THE HALL OF HEROES

By the author who prefers to remain unknown.The following is a copy of the speech Dr. Chable gave each year at one of the chapel services in the gym while KMI was in Venice.  I don't know when he started doing this but he did it each of my years (59-62). I remember him as being somewhat of a large man wearing a black robe. I believe he was the minister at the local Methodist church.  I think many of the KMI cadets remember this and not much else from Chapel unless it was the times the Choir sang off key, that stopped when I left the choir.  Enjoy Sid Eline, KMI '62

"THE HALL OF HEROES"

“Suddenly I found myself standing before a great building, there was a wide entrance, approached by a long flight of broad steps, at the top of which in the shadow of a great doorway stood a man.  When I went up to him and asked, “Will you please tell me what this building is?”  He answered very graciously:

“This is the Hall of Heroes.  Would you like to go through it?”  “Thank you very much,” I said and followed him in.

When we entered I found myself in the center of a magnificent hall, around the inside of which ran marble staircases leading to the different floors.  All was silent, and when my guide spoke to me, his voice was echoed along the high walls and balconies like the soft deep notes of a cathedral organ.  “Here we enshrine, said he, the memories of all heroes from the least unto the greatest.  Let us go in.”

Turning, I saw opposite me an open door; and over the door was written, “Heroes of Battle”. I think that you would be able to tell the names of a great many which I saw there as I walked slowly down the long aisles of that great chamber.  Men who had fought and won great victories, men whose defeat had been glorious because they had all of their wounds in front.  Leonidas, who fell at Thermoplate; Horatius, who kept the bridge; Nelson, with his armless sleeve; Gordon, without a weapon.  There, I saw, too, heroes of the World War, many of whom I had know, and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of sadness as I thought of the sacrifice of so many young lives lost in battle.  I saw that the face of the guide was shadowed with sorrow, too, as we came to the end of the room and passed out into the great hall.

“Let us go to the next floor,” he said.  “Someday the nations of the world will learn to love each other and then “Men will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks, and nations shall not lift up sword against nations, neither shall they learn war anymore.”

“I wish that were true today, I said.”

“It will surely be true someday,” he answered. “And you can help to bring it to pass if you will.”

“I will do all I can.” I promised, and my guide’s face brightened as he turned to me and smiled.

“When we reached the landing at the top of the stairs, I saw before me a door over which was inscribed ‘Heroes of the Lonely Way’.  Here were the pioneers – men who had cut their way through the jungles of dark continents, who had scaled unconquered mountains, crossed waterless deserts, discovered the source of rivers, sailed over the un-know oceans, and pushed their way along the very rim of the earth. I felt ashamed that I knew so few out of the brave multitude; but I knew Columbus and a few others, and my guide stopped me every now and then, and told me stories of deeds of courage and faith and endurance which have done more for the world than all the conquests of the sword.

As we ascended the second flight of steps, my guide pointed to an open door before us, over which was written ‘Heroes of Truth’.  Then he spoke as I had never heard man speak before of the glory and beauty of truth; of the conflict that is waging between truth and error, and of the certainty that truth will triumph in the end.  With my heart aflame at his words, I entered the room, and saw the hosts who had stood bravely for the truth in places where error was powerful and had many followers.  Socrates was there, with the cup of hemlock in his hand, and Luther was there who defied the Pope as he nailed his thesis to the door; and all the noble array of martyrs were there from Stephen and Margaret Wilson, who were tied to the stake in Solway Firth and drowned by the rushing tide because they refused to deny what they believed to be true.

I could have stayed a long time in that glorious chamber by my guide led me on, and we came to the last staircase of all.  It was broader than all the others, and was made of something, which hushed every footstep into silence.  On the steps were written the words;  “Greater love hath no man than this, That a man lay down his life for his friends.”  Over the door which opened for us into this gallery was inscribed, “Heroes of Love’.  My guide did not enter this room in front of me as he had done each time before, but standing off to one side, motioned with his hand that I should pass in.

I found this room was the great dome crowning the building, which I had seen from the outside; but it was bigger and higher than I could have every thought.  At first I imagined it was empty, but it was the marvelous light that blinded my eyes.  Then, in the very center, I saw a cross, with a man crucified upon it. A moan escaped from my lips, “Jesus,” I whispered to myself.  As I grew accustomed to the light, I found that the room was not empty, indeed, it was the fullest of all; for the walls seemed to stretch away in the distance, and the dome seemed to rise into the mist.  I saw David Livingston, who gave his life for the people of Africa.  I saw James Chalmers, who gave his life for the savages of New Guineas; I began to see quite plainly the multitude that cannot be numbered of the ‘Heroes of the Cross.’ Then I caught the sound of music.  It came up from the bottom of the huge building, as if every kind of hero, from the least to the greatest, was joining in one might chorus.  It filled the room in which I stood. I heard the words at last; “Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, and honor and power, and might be unto our God forever and ever, Amen.
I felt I could endure it no longer. I turned and left the room, and ran down the staircase with the music ringing in my ear and a great throbbing in my heart.  In the hall at the foot of the staircase my guide was waiting for me.  He walked with me to the great entrance, and said in the kindliest voice, “You will be here someday.’ I stopped in astonishment.

“I”? I answered, “I, a hero.”

“Why not?” he answered smiling. I looked into his face. He seemed to know the great longing in my heart and with loving tenderness, read and answered my unspoken questions.

“How can you”, “Ask, and it shall be given unto you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you; for everyone that asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh; findeth; and to him that knocheth it shall be opened.” “I am sure you will be with us someday.”

We stood out side the door. He held out his hand to me to say good-bye, I thought it had the print of a nail in it. He said, “On which floor would you like us to prepare a place for you?” and through me, he asks it again of “OF YOU - OF YOU - OF YOU - AND OF YOU!!”