The Lights in the Chapel: Remembering Hillcrest Alumni This Memorial Day

On December 9, 1941, Hillcrest senior Charles Sheppard stood overlooking Fergus Falls and tried to make sense of a world that had suddenly changed. Just two days earlier, Pearl Harbor had been attacked. Now America was at war.

“Once again, our country is at battle, for today Congress declared war on Japan,” he wrote in his diary. “What will the conclusion of this world chaos bring? Only God knows.”

For students at Hillcrest, the war was never just a headline in a newspaper. It became personal. In the school chapel, a map was placed on display with lights marking the locations of alumni serving around the world. Night after night, those small bulbs glowed in the darkness—Sergeant Vernon Blikstad in England, Thor Bugge in China, Herman Engebretson at the Anzio beachhead in Italy. Each light represented someone who had once sat in Hillcrest classrooms, worshiped in chapel, laughed in the dorm halls, and now carried the weight of war on foreign soil.

Those lights became more than markers on a map. They became reminders of a truth that continues to shape Hillcrest generations later: education is not simply about knowledge, achievement, or preparation for a career. At its best, it forms people of conviction—individuals willing to serve something greater than themselves.

That same idea sits at the heart of Memorial Day.

Originally established after the Civil War as “Decoration Day,” Memorial Day began as a time for Americans to decorate the graves of fallen soldiers and remember the cost of preserving the nation. Over time, the observance grew into a national day of remembrance for all military personnel who gave their lives in service to the United States.

Yet Memorial Day has always asked for more than remembrance alone. It calls us to reflection. It asks us to consider the kind of character that compels ordinary men and women to place duty, sacrifice, and love of neighbor above their own safety and future.

For Hillcrest, those questions are not abstract. They are tied to names and stories woven into the school’s history.

One of those stories belongs to Herman Engebretson. Raised in Antler, North Dakota, Herman’s faith deepened during his years at Hillcrest through worship, mentorship, and the rhythms of Christian community life. Friends and teachers helped shape in him a steady faith that would later be tested under the harsh realities of war.

Serving as a chaplain’s assistant in Sicily and Anzio during World War II, Herman ministered to wounded soldiers in makeshift aid stations and prayed with men facing the end of their lives. Mortar fire shook the ground around him, but those who encountered Herman discovered something stronger than fear: the quiet confidence of someone whose hope rested in Christ.

His story reflects something deeply important about the Hillcrest legacy. Alumni have not only supported and strengthened the school through generations of leadership, generosity, and faithfulness—they have also carried those same values into service far beyond campus, including service to their country during moments of global crisis.

Memorial Day reminds us that freedom has always come at a cost paid by real people with real families, dreams, and futures. Many of them once walked the same halls, sat in the same chapel pews, and looked out across the same Fergus Falls horizon as today’s students.

As Hillcrest pauses to recognize Memorial Day, we do so with gratitude for every alumnus and service member who answered the call to serve others sacrificially. We remember the parents who raised them, the teachers who shaped them, and the families who continue to carry both pride and loss.

And perhaps most importantly, we remember the lights.

Those glowing bulbs in the Hillcrest chapel during World War II symbolized more than locations on a wartime map. They represented faith in the middle of uncertainty, hope in the face of fear, and a community committed to remembering its own.

Today, Memorial Day calls us to keep those lights burning—not only in memory of the fallen, but in the way we choose to live. May their courage inspire our own. May their sacrifice deepen our gratitude. And may we remain faithful to lives marked by service, conviction, and love of neighbor.