Mulcahy smiles brightly. "Oh, of course! Yes, of course--forgive me. I've been on that ship and that Village for far too long, and even before then, I was a chaplain to a combat hospital. I believe I've spoken more funerary rites than any other prayer. It would have been more efficient if I started anointing people with formaldehyde instead of oil, but it's not very good for the hands."

Father Mulcahy has a moment to think. Then raises a hand, palm out.

“O Lord, Your Name be praised, we thank you for the miracle of our new freedom in our pilgrimage home. Long was the night, and now we bear witness to a new dawn. Through the merits and intercession of St. Anthony of Padua, patron of the lost and of travelers, we ask that You might guide the rest of this young Lieutenant’s safe passage; and through the merits and intercession of St. Expedite, patron of urgency and of revolutionaries, that You might ensure a swift and bright return. Guide her feet and her hands; let her not be led astray. As You led the Hebrews out of the desert, Lord, we keep faith that one day, however long our odysseys, we will return to where we’re meant to be.”

He raises a hand to sign the cross. “Thus I speak this prayer in the Name of the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”