Fr. Roger J. Landry
The Anchor
Putting Into the Deep
May 22, 2009
When I was in Louisiana in March, I made my second pilgrimage to the parish church dedicated to St. Landry in Opelousas. The last time I had been there was ten years ago, ten days after my priestly ordination, when I celebrated Mass in the Church dedicated to my namesake, the saintly seventh-century bishop of Paris.
Returning two months ago, I was blinded pulling into the parking lot by a huge, sparkling Carrara marble statue in the square in front of the Church. “What’s that?,” I asked my friend, Fr. Bryce Sibley. At first glance, I couldn’t make out what the statue was, because it was full of spiraling-vertical movement without clear figures. “That,” Fr. Sibley drawled, “is a new statue dedicated in 2007 to Fr. J. Verbis Lafleur.”
“Who’s he?,” I retorted. That day I would find out — and never forget.
Fr. J. Verbis Lafleur was born in 1912 in Ville Platte, Louisiana. He became an altar boy at 7 and began to express an interest in the priesthood. When he was 14, his family moved to Opelousas. Once his pastor found out of his desire to become a priest, he arranged for him to enter high school seminary. Eleven years later, in 1938, he was ordained and celebrated his first High Mass at St. Landry’s Church.
During what would be his only parish assignment, three years as parochial vicar at St. Mary Magdalen Church in Abbeville, he quickly became beloved, especially among the families that were dirt poor even before the depression. With his amiable personality and good-natured wit, Fr. Lafleur worked to try to give them hope and keep their kids out of trouble. A good athlete himself, he provided the boys with bats, balls and gloves and began to organize baseball games. The boys would find out later that Fr. Lafleur paid for the equipment by pawning his watch.
In 1941, with his bishop’s permission, he joined the Army Air Corps to care spiritually for those who were being drafted. After training in Albuquerque, his unit, the 19th Bombardment Group, was assigned to Clark Field in the Philippines. The crusty senior officers upon seeing him felt sorry for him, because he looked so young and they thought he would have a hard time earning the respect of the men. It would take less than a month, however, for him to prove his fiber and gain the admiration of the entire base.
On December 8, the day after Pearl Harbor was attacked, the Japanese carpet-bombed Clark Field. The wounded were everywhere, exposed and totally vulnerable to continued machine gun fire and bombs. “With absolute disregard to his personal safety,” one colonel wrote after the catastrophe, Fr. Lafleur “went among the wounded soldiers, giving spiritual comfort to those who desired it, assisting the doctors in giving care to the wounded, and helping in their evacuation. Never once did he take cover. Never once did he think of his own safety as he conducted himself in accordance with the highest traditions of his Church and our army.”
This turned out to be just a beginning to his heroic deeds.
After the attack, the brass thought it best to move the 19th Bombardment group to a safer island. While in transit, their ship was attacked by Japanese planes. A wounded officer was lying on deck. Fr. Lafleur crawled, through a storm of bullets, to bring the man to safety. Upon continued attacks, the transport vessel began to sink. Fr. Lafleur remained on the ship until all other men were in lifeboats and then dove into the water to swim behind one of them.
When he was offered the opportunity to fly to safety in Australia, he asked whether the men of his unit would also be evacuated. Since only a few would be given spots, he replied, “My place is with the men,” and chose to stay. The next day all were captured and for the next two and a half years he and they would be prisoners of war.
While in the prison camp, Fr. Lafleur tried to keep the soldiers’ spirits up and hopes alive, bringing Christ into a living hell of disease, brutality and starvation where one-third of detainees would die. He cared for the wounded, blinded and crippled soldiers who had scant medical attention and food. He would feed them, clean them and sit by the bed and read to them. With Cajun friendliness and ingenuity, he bartered with the natives outside the camp, trading his watch, his eyeglasses and anything else of value to try to obtain what the sick needed. He ate only a small amount and gave the rest of his meager rations to needier prisoners. When he discovered that a healthy prisoner was stealing food from the wounded, he confronted the man and ordered him to stop. When the man refused, Fr. Lafleur, without other options, flattened him with two punches and gained compliance the old-fashioned way. He was permitted to build a chapel and did so with his own hands, calling it “St. Peter in Chains.” He celebrated Mass each day for Catholic and non-Catholic POWs, using a medicine dropper for the wine to ensure that it would last.
Eventually the Japanese decided to move 750 soldiers to the jungle to clear cut an airfield. At first they said they would permit one chaplain to accompany the men and Fr. Lafleur, because he was the youngest of 21 POW chaplains, volunteered. He said he had sensed in prayer that something terrible would happen during the jungle detail and he thought a chaplain should be present. When the Japanese changed their minds and said that no chaplain would be allowed, Fr. Lafleur took the place of one of the soldiers selected for work detail and went as a laborer.
In terrible conditions, Fr. Lafleur and the soldiers cleared the jungle for the airfield. He worked hard to console his campanions with his sense of humor and faith. As the war was coming to a close in 1944, the Japanese decided to move the American POWs to Japan to serve as slave labor. They were packed into the hold of a small retired freighter for three weeks at seas. Tragically, the Shiniyo Maru did not fly a white flag as vessels transporting prisoners were supposed to do. On September 7, it was torpedoed by USS Paddlefish, caught fire and began to sink.
The soldiers in the hull needed to escape from the onrushing water on one side, the flames on the other, and the ubiquitous smoke. The hatch to the deck was opened and the men said, “You first, Padre,” but Fr. Lafleur insisted that the other men precede him. He gave general absolution and then held the ladder as soldiers tried to climb to safety, blessing the soldiers as they ascended. The Japanese were throwing grenades into the hold and shooting at the POWs who had jumped into the water. Only 83 of the 750 POWs survived. Fr. Lafleur went down with the ship.
“No one has greater love,” Jesus said, “than to lay down his life for his friends.” For Fr. Verbis Lafleur, these were not just words but a way of life.
Various faithful, priests, Knights of Columbus and others in the Diocese of Lafayette are hoping to begin soon a process of canonization for Fr. Lafleur and are encouraging people to pray through his intercession. The 8-ton, 16 foot white marble statue by Italian sculptor Franco Allessandrini I alluded to at the beginning is one means by which to try to promote knowledge of him. The statue shows Fr. Lafleur in his dramatic final act of love, standing at the foot of the ladder pushing other soldiers to safety. That pose is a fitting summation of his whole priestly life, in which he put others first and labored to help them ascend to salvation.
May Fr. Lafleur’s priestly work continue, God-willing, from the top of the heavenly ladder.