Here is the listing - it's been on for a few weeks https://www.usmilitariaforum.com/forums/index.php?/forum/86-real-or-what/&do=add   I like everything about it but the fact there are no markings   I'm not thrilled about the price either.  What do you you think?   Steve  

Looks like you’re stencil was spray painted?   And is the red on top of the blue?

Here it is: 

Randy, Not to be pedantic but I think that is just embroidery on wool and not a chenille patch. I was gonna say something Navy. Dave l

I just stumbled upon an obituary for Chaplain E. Gage Hotaling, who served with the 4th Marine Division during WWII. He joined the Chaplain Corps in 1944 because he felt that he could not preach to the WWII generation if he did not know what they endured. He was with the 4th MAR DIV on Iwo Jima and officiated at approx. 1,800 burials of Marines.     -----------   LAST IWO JIMA CHAPLAIN DIES By Benjamin Bell The Boston Herald     In the bloodiest days of Iwo Jima, Marine Chaplain LT. E. Gage Hotaling spoke the last words over fallen Marines and Navy corpsmen as they were buried in the island’s black sand. On 20 May 2010, Marines, Sailors and Soldiers returned the favor to the late Reverend E. Gage Hotaling of Agawam Massachusetts, sending the old Navy chaplain on to join his comrades with military honors. Reverend Hotaling was the last surviving chaplain who served ashore with the Marines at Iwo. He joined the Chaplain Corps at age 28 in 1944 because he didn't feel he could preach to the WW II generation unless he knew what they had endured, so he found himself with the 4th Marine Division on Iwo Jima. Some of his experiences on Iwo Jima are included in the book, “Flags of Our Fathers,” which tells the stories of the men who raised the American flag during the battle of February 1945. Rev. Hotaling's first sermon was delivered at a Manton, Rhode Island church on November 19, 1933. At that time the country was in the depths of the Great Depression. Rev. Hotaling was 17 years old and had promised his father, who was dying of cancer, that he would carry on the work of ministry. Hotaling, 94, died Sunday 16 May 2010 in a Springfield hospital, 65 years after the iconic battle for the Pacific island. In a 2007 documentary, he talked about the grim task he faced as Marines fell in bitter combat against the dug-in Japanese enemy. Of the 6,821 Americans killed, Hotaling believed he buried about 1,800. “We would have four Marines with a flag over each grave. And while they were kneeling with the flag, I would stand up and I would give the committal words for each one,” he told the filmmakers. He said he took up smoking to overcome the stench of decay. “I did it not as a Protestant, Catholic or a Jew, but as a Marine,” the Baptist minister said. “Every man was buried as a Marine. And so I gave the same committal to each one.” A Marine Corps honor guard stood by as family members and other veterans paid their respects yesterday at Massachusetts Veterans’ Memorial Cemetery in Agawam. “He was a man of God, a man who comforted people and a shepard to his flock,” said son Kerry, 57, of Ludlow. “He brought comfort to the fighting Marines who were on the island.” Thanks should go to Massachusetts State Trooper Mike Cutone, an Army vet, who was on a prisoner watch at Mercy Hospital when he learned from an old Marine that Hotaling was dying down the hall. Cutone made some calls and saw to it Hotaling was attended at his bedside by Marines in dress blues in his last days, just as he had tended to them in theirs in dirty, bloodstained dungarees.   ------------   Chaplain Hotaling kept a diary during his time with the Marines, and an entry from 4 Feb 1945, aboard ship bound for Iwo Jima, shows how much the Chaplains were depended upon by the servicemen:   My sermon today had some unexpected results. I received a large number of compliments for it, and one boy spoke to me afterwards to tell me that a small group had started to meet each night at 8:00 on deck for a hymn sing and prayer together. He asked me if I would come, and I said I’d be glad to, so I attended my first meeting tonight.   There were about 20 there and they sang everything from memory. Can you imagine 20 Marines going into battle sitting on the deck of a warship and singing “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam”? Well, that actually happened tonight, for that was one of the songs that the boys sang. It was an hour of real inspiring fellowship. Now I’m looking forward to meeting with them each night. It will do me a lot of good, and help me during the lonely evenings.   After landing on Iwo Jima, he officiated his first burials on February 24th:   We buried the first row (50 men) in the cemetery today. Ever since we came ashore the men of our outfit have been collecting the bodies, the engineers went over the cemetery area with mine detectors, and the bulldozer has been scooping out a large trench.   When the whole row was buried, 2 of the boys went with me and placed a flag on each individual grave while I said the committal service over it. Here is what I said: “You have gallantly given your life on foreign soil in order that others might live. Now we commit your body to the ground, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. May your soul rest in eternal peace. Amen.”       On 15 March 1945, the cemetery was finished and the dedication service took place:   Today was a solemn day here. There were at least 4,000 4th Division Marines lined up around the cemetery long before the hour of dedication. They stood for many minutes in the hot sun without a sign of emotion and without saying a word to their buddies. It was as though they were in some great cathedral where every stone and every pew was sacred.   Nearly a half hour before the ceremony the general [Maj. Gen. Clifton B. Cates] arrived, and all stood at attention as he came into the cemetery. Then at last it was time for the dedication ceremony to start. It was short, far too short to pay the tribute the dead deserved.   There were the Marine Corps hymn and “Rock of Ages” played by the band, invocation by the Jewish chaplain, a few remarks by the division chaplain, the general’s remarks, and the benediction by the Catholic chaplain. Then came the solemn moment, however, when the 3-volley salute was fired, followed by the playing of “Taps.”   Then we all snapped to attention as the flag was raised above the cemetery and the National Anthem was played. It stirred all the emotions in me that had been suppressed during the strain of the last 3½ weeks, and I felt the tears trickle down my cheeks….   The cemetery looks beautiful now. 3 weeks ago it looked hopeless. We were attempting to set it up on a hillside above the beach where the soil was nothing but shifting volcanic silt. It took a bulldozer nearly 3 days to scoop out a level trench in order that the men might be laid in there. Meanwhile, the bodies piled up outside until at one time there were nearly 400 lying within 50 yards of my foxhole.   Still, life had to go on, and we ate 3 meals a day and slept at night in the midst of that stench. Eventually we got them all buried and then the bulldozers scooped the earth back into the trench and the trucks brought in real dirt and packed it down on top of the volcanic sand. Then the markers were put up, the graves were mounded, a stone fence was placed around the cemetery and painted white, and a flagpole raised at one end with the Marine Corps emblem in white stones around the flagpole. On this side of the cemetery is a small plot where the war dogs are buried. The 3rd Division cemetery is right next to ours, but the 5th Division set theirs up on the other side of the island.     Two days later, the final burials took place:   We had our final committal services today, making a total of 1,800 men buried in the 4th Division cemetery. Of the officers who were on the same ship with me on the way out, we have buried at least 10. One of the men in our small fellowship group is also lying in the cemetery. It was as though he were one of the boys from my own parish, for I had grown to look upon the boys of that fellowship group as my very own.       Here is a 1945 letter written home to his wife after Iwo Jima:   March 16, 1945.   My Dearest Sweetheart: Yesterday was a solemn day. There were at least 4,000 Marines of the 4th Division lined up around the cemetery long before the hour of dedication. They stood for many minutes in the hot sun without a sign of emotion and without saying a word to their buddies. It was as though they were in some great cathedral where every stone and every pew was sacred.    Nearly a half hour before the ceremony the general arrived, and all stood at attention as he came into the cemetery. They saw him take in the whole cemetery with a long, swift glance.    They said to themselves, “These are your men, General, your men who died for you. Yes, but these are also our buddies who died for us. We knew them back in camp. We went through P.I. with them. We saw them molded into fighting Marines at Lejeune. Then we followed them overseas and watched them climb the cliffs and storm the pillboxes and man the guns. And we saw them die as mortar after mortar crashed with that sickening, crunching sound among them. Yes, general, they are your men, but they are our men too.”   Then at last it was time for the dedication ceremony to start. It was short, far too short to pay the tribute the dead deserved. We all snapped to attention as the flag was raised above the cemetery and the national anthem was played. It stirred up all the emotions in me that had been suppressed during the strain of the last three and a half weeks, and I felt the tears trickle down my cheeks.   The cemetery looks beautiful now. Three weeks ago it looked hopeless. We were attempting to set it up on a hillside above the beach where the soil was nothing but shifting volcanic silt. It took a bulldozer nearly three days to scoop out a level trench in order that the men might be laid in there. Meanwhile, the bodies piled up outside until at one time there were nearly 400 lying within 50 yards of my foxhole. Still, life had to go on, and we ate three meals a day and we slept at night in the midst of that stench.    Eventually, we got them all buried, and then the bulldozers scooped the earth back into the trench, and the trucks brought in real dirt and packed it down on top of the volcanic sand. Then the markers were put up, the graves were mounded, a stone fence was placed around the cemetery and painted white, and a flagpole raised at one end. On this side of the cemetery is a small plot where the war dogs are buried. One of the doctors said the other day that this has been the “healthiest” island that our men have ever fought on in the Pacific, in that no one has been sick and there have been no epidemics of any kind. But in the hospital, they have had at least one major operation to perform every hour of the day and night, as the men have been brought in with every kind of wound in the book, and some that were not in the book.   In the last week or ten days, I have read hundreds of letters written by the wives and sweethearts of the men, for they make up a large part of the personal effects which come to us. Never before have we had as many married men with children killed as we have had this time. It is one of the saddest things I know that war should do this to people, to take the heads of families and send them off to die, leaving thousands of little children to grow up without any daddies. But for the grace of God and the fact that I am a chaplain instead of a fighting man, I, too, might be lying out there right now. One wife wrote to her husband on February 22nd that steady progress was being made, another one wrote that it was reported that this battle was not as tough as Tarawa. It sort of made me wonder how long it was before the true reports started coming in to you folks back home.   Now I guess I’ll knock off for chow. It has been a wonderful hour that I have spent with you, and I send you all my love and all the kisses you can imagine. You are always my constant inspiration, and every hour of the day you’re in my thoughts. So all of my love and prayers go with this letter. Always, your favorite chaplain, Gage   -------------   Rev. E. Gage Hotaling of Cardinal Drive, entered into eternal rest on Sunday, May 16, 2010 in Mercy Medical Center. Born in Wellsville, NY, on January 21, 1916, he was the son of the late Rev. Ira and Albertha (Gage) Hotaling. He grew up in Providence, RI and graduated from Brown University in the class of 1935 and Andover Newton Theological School in 1940. He taught American History while doing graduate work at Brown. He was ordained a Baptist minister in 1940 and held pastorates in Palmer, Hyannis, and Needham, MA before coming to Springfield as pastor of the Church in the Acres from 1972 to 1984. Then he served as part-time pastor of the Wales (MA) Baptist Church until 1990 when he retired. He was also a retired Lieutenant Commander in the Chaplain Corps of the United States Naval Reserve. During World War II he was overseas a year with the 4th Marine Division and conducted burial services for 1800 men at the Division Cemetery in Iwo Jima. He was the last surviving Chaplain of the 4th Division at Iwo Jima. He was recalled to active duty in 1952 and served as the Senior Protestant Chaplain at the Recruit Training Command, Naval Training Center, Bainbridge, MD until 1954. From 1975 to 1984 he was the Protestant Chaplain at the Navaland Marine Reserve Training Center at Westover. He was a lifetime member of the 4th Marine Division Association, the Iwo Jima Survivors Association of Connecticut, and the Military Chaplains Association of the U.S.A.   ---------------   For more entries form his diary about the time before, during, and after Iwo Jima, see this site: https://warfarehistorynetwork.com/article/a-navy-chaplain-on-iwo-jima-doing-gods-work-in-hell/   There are some really moving entries and amazing to hear from someone so close to a time in history that has passed into legend. Just wanted to share this, for anyone like me who had not read about this amazing gent. 

I have a WWII V corps liner that was painted using similar stencil technique.   Pat

Hi Johan,   thanks, that's an amazing offer! 😊   Not sure yet but I don't think I'll make it to Ciney; please let me know what plans you have for Gorinchem. I would love to add it to my collection!    

Without a name it’s a totally different world.

Mess kit by CARROLLTON MFG.CO. dated 1965.

Let it ride, it's a very good learning topic for all concerned.   Glad you received your refund and now you know what to look for.  There are multiple topics on the forum to guide members in their purchasing forays and hopefully point out what is real and what is (fill in the blank).   There ya go, thanks for posting this and good hunting