For much of the previous year, the Rev. Joe Porpiglia had a grueling routine— and he wasn’t even running his parish of St. Benedict’s in Eggertsville. The native of Dunkirk was in Afghanistan as a U. S. chaplain, racing across a rugged and war-torn landscape in massive helicopters and transport planes, celebrating Mass and bringing the sacraments to thousands of soldiers, but also offering counsel and comfort to anyone who sought him out.

What makes Porpiglia’s tour stand out is he was just one of eight to 10 Catholic chaplains in Afghanistan during the last 18 months.

That hardly meets the needs of the huge population of Catholics serving in the U. S. military. According to CatholicMil.org, a Web site for chaplains and military personnel, 375,000 of 1.2 million active-duty soldiers are Catholic. And don’t forget to add their 800,000 dependents.

Yet just 300 priests are currently ministering to them. During World War II, there were 3,200 Catholic chaplains—one out of every 10 American priests at the time. Today’s Chaplain Corps is mostly Protestant.

Today’s numbers have led the Pentagon to initiate an aggressive campaign to recruit Catholic priests to serve as chaplains. The Pentagon continues to buy up large amounts of ad space in Catholic publications. High-level officers are speaking with bishops and visiting seminaries, claiming the Army alone needs 400 priests. In 2007, the Air Force sent out invitations to thousands of priests asking them to spend several days at Peterson and Schriever Air Force bases in Colorado and fly in military aircraft. They had success during that first year, when six priests decided on the Air Force Reserve, while 11 joined up on active duty.

The U. S. military’s recruitment of priests has not gone unnoticed by civilian Catholics, however. Several Catholic publications, such as the Chicago-based U. S. Catholic, have seen a backlash from a significant number of readers. Some have questioned whether Catholic clergy should be participating in war, period. Others have criticized the fact that taxpayer dollars are being spent on recruiting priests when many archdioceses nationwide are shuttering parishes due to their own lack of clergy. They argue many parishes could use some federally subsidized advertising dollars for their own recruiting efforts.

Capt. Rev. Gregory Caiazzo is a recruitment officer and spokesman for the U. S. Navy’s Chief of Chaplains office, which oversees all chaplains for the Navy, Marines and Coast Guard. U. S. Catholic chaplains, he said, believe in the same principles as the warriors they serve,

principles the Catholic Church always has embraced: Protect freedoms, stand up for the underdog and fend off those who have nothing to offer but oppression, struggle and violence.

“Because of all this, they [U. S. service members] deserve the best we can give them,” he said. “They need as much spiritual care as medical care. We’re not toting a gun — we’re administering to the people of God.”

Caiazzo served on the aircraft carrier USS America during the first Gulf War. On Sundays he would celebrate his first Mass on the USS America, then tend to the rest of the convoy. He traveled ship to ship via helicopter. If a ship didn’t have a landing pad, he was lowered to the deck by wire and harness, and raised back in the same contraption — a normal Sunday for a Navy chaplain.

But not all share Caiazzo’s view that the church and the U. S. military share the same principles. Indeed, Pope John Paul II said the invasion of Iraq did not meet the criteria of a just war, and U. S. bishops made similar statements. This rift raises complex questions for chaplains and the church. How do Catholic chaplains do their job while acknowledging the enormous moral complications of serving in a war condemned by their own church? What’s more, how do you model a loving, merciful God in a combat theater in the first place?

The Rev. John Barkemeyer, an Army chaplain preparing for his third deployment, left his Chicago parish in 2003 to serve U. S. troops as they invaded Iraq. It was a war he didn’t believe in, yet he heeded the call because he knew there was a need. And he partially agrees with Caiazzo: “We largely share the same values of the soldiers we serve, but it is much more than that.

“We need to be able to link our belief that life is a sacred gift from God, and, sometimes rarely, war is a moral necessity,” said Barkemeyer, 45. “Our servicemen and women are focused on accomplishing the mission, whatever mission they are given. We need to view the military mission in light of our faith and be able to translate what this means to those we serve.”

When their own church condemns the war they are fighting, Catholic troops “face a terrible paradox. They try to hold onto a faith that says God is good and loving while they are surrounded by evil, suffering, extreme violence and death.”

Serving is not an issue for Barkemeyer: “For me, as a Catholic priest and chaplain in the U. S. Army, my mission is to serve soldiers,” he said. “The moral question of ‘should we be fighting this particular war’ isn’t at the heart of what I do. Soldiers don’t get to pick and choose the wars they fight in, politicians do.

“I do end up teaching the ‘just-war tradition’ to soldiers and we have powerful discussions about which criteria seem to apply. [But] my job is not to convince soldiers of any particular position but to explain our faith and help them digest the implications.”

Like many soldiers, there are many Catholic priests who have been deployed multiple times. “It is really inspiring to see the [priests who] do it over and over again,” said Caiazzo.

One of those priests is Porpiglia. The lieutenant commander has been a reservist with the Coast Guard for 17 years and returned this summer from his second tour, one that was extended several weeks. Six years ago he took part in Operation Iraqi Freedom.

His most challenging missions involved moving from one Forward Operating Base (FOB) to another so he could serve Mass and hear confessions. Some of these FOBs are small outposts where there’s no running water or kitchen; others are huge complexes complete with gyms and a Pizza Hut. Some FOBs take days to get to.

“I don’t like focusing on me,” he wrote one morning at an air hub while waiting for a plane back to his home base in Kandahar, a plane that never showed. “I like to focus on what our men and women are doing and the great job they are doing.” Some close to Porpiglia said he doesn’t prefer to speak much about his time “down range,” military parlance for Afghanistan and Iraq. Nevertheless, Porpiglia, who is physically unassuming, quips, “Did I tell you the flak jacket with plates weighs 70 pounds?”

Not far from St. Benedict’s, at Buffalo’s VA Medical Center on Bailey Avenue, the Rev. Marian Gardocki is pushing close to 60 years of age. Like Porpiglia, he also has donned the flak jacket, in 120 degrees of stifling Afghanistan heat — weapons free, as all chaplains do. He’s still in the Naval Reserve, trains with Marines on weekends in Baltimore and works during the week as a counselor at the VA.

Gardocki was born and ordained in Poland, and while he has a good grasp of English, his accent still rings of his birth country. Looking back on two tours, the last coming in 2008 in Afghanistan, he is most satisfied that he had become to the troops a shield of sorts from the demons of a war zone; a source of energy for their morale and spirits; a confidant who helped them deal with being on the edge of mortality.

In May of 2008, he went out on a patrol searching for Taliban. It is something he doesn’t prefer to do, but it’s not easy turning down your fellow soldiers when they ask, “Padre, come with us on patrol, because we will be safe then.”

“Most of them, the soldiers, are so very young,” said Gardocki. “When they came to me, they tell me they missed home. They tell me they are scared to die. They are just 18, 19 years old. And it is their first deployment. Their first experience away from home.”

Deeply philosophical answers to a soldier’s questions of death aren’t suited for the battlefield, said Gardocki. “I tell them, you have to open your eyes. Listen to your staff sergeant and follow orders. Take the orders seriously and you will be safe. Follow orders and don’t ignore anything.”

Perhaps his most vivid experience occurred last May, in an isolated province called Farah, in western Afghanistan. Early one morning intelligence identified Taliban not far from the base. Marines were dispatched to set up an ambush.

A few hours later, radios at the base began to crackle with action — medevacs with numerous injured were inbound. Even before the helicopters’ familiar thump, thump, thump could be heard, anxiety began to spread, hearts began to pound. Gardocki had been here before — in Iraq.

“I was very familiar” with dealing with the injured, he said. He began telling anyone he could to “calm down, calm down, do your job.” Seven wounded Marines were soon rushed in. Gardocki began to pray. “The surgeon comes to where I am. The surgeon told me to come quick. He tells me, ‘I have to do my job, now you have to do yours.’ He wanted me to pray [near the Marines]. I went where he was doing the surgery and prayed. For three hours.”

The harsh reality of the day ended better than expected. The Marines were stabilized and transferred to better facilities. All survived. Many at the base told Gardocki his presence had helped all involved make it through.

“I was happy to be able to serve these people. Enrich their lives. That I was able to bring them the Catholic sacraments. I also told them that I was one of them. That I can be injured just like them and I can be cured just like them.”

Tom Cornell, a deacon from Marlsboro, was one of the first draft-resisters of the Vietnam War to publicly burn his draft card and defy a war he did not believe in. He served six months in prison for his crime. Forty years later, he finds himself again promoting peace the best he can. The antiwar activist is a veteran of the Catholic Worker Movement and co-founder of the Catholic Peace Fellowship, which supports conscientious objectors through education and advocacy.

Cornell is not surprised about the military’s immediate need for priests. If you include their dependents, he said, the numbers of those in the U. S. military dealing with poverty, post-deployment stress and substance abuse is tremendous.

“They need Catholic priests. I am not against this,” said Cornell, who mentions he lives in a state hit hard by its own shortage. He is a stout believer in absolute pacifism, but admits that military force may be just as police action if absolutely necessary to protect the innocent.

He believes priests should serve the military, but not join as chaplains who automatically are awarded officer status when they finish training. He wishes priests could serve as civilians, trained and paid for by the church. He believes many priests-turned-officers are “socialized” to discourage conscientious objectors who seek counsel.

But Judy McCloskey, director of Catholic- Mil.org, said, “it would be a logistical nightmare to reduce Catholic chaplaincy to civilian priests only.” She believes the U. S. military would not allow any civilian priest military clearance, thus denying sacraments to those on the front lines.

“Which untrained civilian priest is going to minister to military personnel in Qatar, Kuwait, Afghanistan or Iraq — or the next military hot spots?” she asked. “Military personnel in general will find the priest less approachable if he’s not wearing a uniform, less identifiable, especially if Catholics are singled out while every other denomination in the chaplain corps is in uniform.”

Several Catholic chaplains said one of the most important aspects of the soldier-chaplain relationship is the chaplain’s confidentiality.

“More often than not, what the soldier wants to talk about is confidential. Regardless of the religion, a soldier has confidentiality when talking to a chaplain,” said Lt. Col. Rev. Lee Yoakam, spokesman for the U. S. Air Force’s Chief of Chaplain’s office.

Cornell believes historically, the U. S. military has exploited this pact of confidentiality — and the vocation of chaplaincy itself. Expressing fear or any psychological issue to a commanding officer could mean retribution for a soldier — in ways not sanctioned by any chain of command.

“The chaplain’s purpose is to maintain a high level of morale,” he said. “The U. S. military is not interested in their spiritual or sacramental responsibilities. They are only interested in military effectiveness [and to] make sure their unit is psychologically prepared for war.”

A U. S. Navy chaplain serving overseas scoffs at such an argument. Religion and religious ministers will always have their place in war, said the Rev. David Daigle, a lieutenant colonel who blogs for CatholicMil.org. “There’s a lot more to being a chaplain than just counseling and guidance, I can assure you,” he said. “Religious ministers will not and cannot be replaced by a Psych Corps or Guidance Corps or whatever. I’m here to take care of people who otherwise won’t be taken care of or receive help with irregular marriages, and being confirmed, receiving First Holy Communion, confessions, etc. So there is a definite and huge need for priests in the military, no doubt.”

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John Lasker is a freelance journalist in Ohio. A version of this story appears in this month’s issue of U. S. Catholic magazine.