I first met Curt at the Naval Air Station, Pt. Mugu, in 1975. He was trim and fit in his dress khakis and full of energy and enthusiasm. Curt was a Lieutenant Commander and a Navy Chaplain, but—as I soon learned—no ordinary man.

Curt began his Naval career as an enlisted man. Just after basic training, he married his sweetheart, Shirl. While overseas, God called him to become a minister of the Gospel. He left the Navy and went to college and seminary while serving in churches, driving a school bus, and working night shift in a factory. Curt had no idea when he slept. After graduation from seminary, he was ordained as a minister of the Gospel and rejoined the Navy, this time as an officer. He was told there were no more billets available in the Chaplain Corps, but he persisted. And his persistence was rewarded.

Curt was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines, and began training with them at Camp Pendleton. He went to war in Viet Nam. He was with the battalion in combat. He served in the rice paddies with those young men. Curt held some as they died. He preached the Gospel to the living.

Curt did not have to go into combat. It would have been easier and safer back home or in Saigon. But he chose the hardest duty of all. His family worried. So did Curt.

After Viet Nam, Curt returned stateside to his family and was seldom parted from them. But it was not long before they lived around the world, in the Philippines and Japan. Curt and Shirl raised three magnificent children, two daughters and a son.

Curt was a man who chose the most difficult road. Like the Marines he served, he ran toward the sound of gunfire, not away from it. Curt was a good man. A man’s man.

Semper Fi!

Image from the Alban Psalter