The Meandering Mind

Making a Difference: A series of thoughts and reflections on living a life of purpose.

Lest you accuse me of delusions of grandeur, I did not save the lives of hundreds of people. Well, not directly. But I was involved.

This is another story of chaplain confidentiality. I was stationed at McGuire Air Force Base, New Jersey, 40 miles east of Philadelphia.

Chaplains were assigned various units around the base. One of my units was the Communications Squardron. They handled the air traffic control for the base and coordinated with civilian airports from Boston to D.C., the busiest air space in the United States. At any time, there could be hundreds of airplanes, carrying thousands of passengers in this air space.

A fellow chaplain, Bill, came to me with a problem. He was new and still adjusting to Air Force life and the confidentiality issues faced by chaplains.

He was talking to the wife of an airman who was being trained as an air traffic controller at the base. This was the early 1980s when civilian controllers had gone on strike and AF controllers were filling in. A real staff shortage, not unlike what is happening across our country now.

The wife said her husband was using hard drugs and she feared he could make a mistake that would crash an airplane full of people. She told Bill he had to keep this confidential, because she worried about her marriage being hurt.

Bill asked if he could consult with another chaplain, who would keep her confidence. She agreed. Bill came to me and we worked to solve the problem of keeping the confidence of the woman while trying to avoid a disaster in the air.

The Communications Squadron Commander, Frank, was my neighbor. Over the time I had known him, we established a good relationship. He trusted me. I knew him to be a good man.

Chaplain Bill and I visited the commander at his home one evening. Frank knew something was up, but waited as I began. “Tell me about airman soand-so.” Frank explained that he was being trained on the scope used to control airplanes and would be certified to operate on his own soon.

I asked if there was any way that the airman could be put on desk duty for a while. Frank gave me a serious look and said, “You’re not gonna tell me why are you?” “Nope!” I responded. Frank smiled knowingly and said, “Chaplain confidentiality, and you just want me to trust you, right?” “Yep,” I said.

Frank opined that he was short-staffed and was filling in for the striking civilian controllers. I was putting him in a tough spot. I remained quiet, letting Frank process. Chaplain Bill never said a word during this interchange.

Finally, Frank grudgingly said, “Okay Chaplain. I trust you and I’ll take your word for it. I’ll take him off the scope tomorrow.” I thanked him and we left.

Two weeks later, that airman was pulled over for a routine traffic stop. He had a trunk full of illegal drugs. Out of the AF and off to jail. Commander Frank thanked me and said he’d not hesitate to trust me in the future. Chaplain Bill was relieved. We all learned an important lesson.

The airman and his wife divorced and Chaplain Bill lost track of her after she moved back home with her folks.

More Making a Difference in future columns.