In the middle of World War II, while much of the world was in flames, American troops still found time to celebrate Easter — even if it looked a little different from back home.
On muddy hillsides and battered beaches, far from family and church steeples, they gathered with their comrades.
Helmets off, heads bowed, no stained glass or ornate pipe organs. Just the steady voice of a chaplain, a makeshift cross, and a few minutes of peace.
On Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945, U.S. Marines initiated the assault on Okinawa, marking the beginning of one of the fiercest battles in the Pacific Theater.
Amidst the chaos and bloodshed, U.S. forces paused their duties to pray and sing hymns before the battle resumed.
Over in Europe, GIs worshipped in bombed-out churches, even as the final push toward victory was underway.
Some sat on overturned crates, others stood at attention as a chaplain read from a small, pocket-worn Bible.
Former Army Captain Charles Roland recalled an Easter message from their battalion chaplain, 1st Lt. Edwin Hampton, spoken as the ship carrying men from the 394th Infantry regiment sailed through the English channel towards France:
“The chaplain spoke briefly and quietly, but with deep emotion, of the mighty crusade on which we were engaged. He called it a worthy cause, blessed by heaven. Then, elevating his right hand in a gesture of beatitude, he said, ‘The Lord be with you and keep you. The Lord give you strength in the day of battle.’”
One of many Easter services held on Appenine mountainsides by the Tenth Mountain Division April 1, 1945; conducted by Caplain William H. Bell for the 605th Artillery Battalion at Rocca Pitigliano.
All of them — weary, brave, hopeful — found strength in something greater than themselves.
It wasn’t just about religion.
It was about unity. Finding purpose in the chaos. Remembering what they were fighting for — not just who they were fighting against.
It’s easy to think of Easter as a holiday filled with eggs and chocolate (and hey, no shame in that).
But for those men, especially at that time, it was an important moment to gain clarity, comfort, and courage.
America has always been a country of quiet courage. Of people who step forward in hard times — not for applause, but because it’s the right thing to do.
Those Easter services remind us of something else, too: even in the darkest days, light still shines.
Faith endures. Traditions carry on.
Easter services 339th Fighter Group April 1945
That spirit is still alive today.
We see it in military families who celebrate Easter with an empty chair at the table — holding tight to the same strength those soldiers once leaned on.
We see it in small-town parades, sunrise services in local parks, and families who gather, year after year, to honor faith and freedom with simple, heartfelt traditions.
So this Easter, as we hide eggs and gather with loved ones, let’s also take a moment to remember those who once celebrated in the mud and rain, under gray skies, with danger all around — and still found time to be reverent.
They didn’t have much. Just a few minutes to pray a word of hope and sing a quiet hymn carried by wind and memory.
That’s the kind of courage Easter inspires — then and now.
This article was written with the assistance of AI. Please verify information and consult additional sources as needed.
