Debarkation
Before boarding ships to leave the island for good,
many of us walked back through our former camp, 'home', with mixed emotions,
but were pleased and proud to see the beautiful area had been restored
to its original view of palm trees in neat rows with the ocean wavelets
lapping the rocky shore. In summation, I repeat, I'm proud to be an American.
In March of 1945 we were all deeply concerned about
the terrible loss of fellow Marines on the killing grounds of Iwo Jima
and realizing that Okinawa would probably be even worse. Nearing the
waters of the home islands the fanaticism of our enemy would become
more severe than ever and the island had about one hundred thousand
soldiers....ten times the number slaughtering us on Peleliu.
We boarded LST ships at Guadalcanal and sailed across
Iron Bottom sound to anchor near Tulagi amid many ships of all types.
This was our first indication of the size of the armada going to Okinawa,
which eventually numbered about fifteen hundred.
Our hard nosed hero, Admiral 'Bull' Halsey, had erected
a huge billboard on Tulagi visible for miles around. It wished us well
and then in large black letters it said: KILL THE BASTARDS KILL THE
BASTARDS KILL ALL THE LITTLE BASTARDS
Feelings ran high then and especially when the final
count of five thousand Marines being killed on Iwo Jima. At this time the huge buildup of ships for our navy
had over stepped the manpower available to man the many new ships. The
navy called on its sister service the United States Coast Guard to help
fill the needs in running these new ships.
Our bad luck battalion was loaded onboard one such
ship manned by what we called the 'Hooligan Navy' and we teased them
with relish.
This overloaded LST was three hundred feet long and
had metal floating pontoon docks tied to its sides and a forty foot
landing craft on the deck above. Both above and below decks were crowded
with trucks, jeeps, howitzers and piles of equipment of all sorts.
We humanoids were excess baggage and had to build
tent cities all over the deck and it was only possible to go forward
or aft by walking along one of those docks strapped to the sides. A
handrail, cable, was stretched along as our safety hold but one man
was washed over board in high seas and never found.
Ulithi
We formed up into a convoy and sailed to the huge
lagoon anchorage at Ulithi where every ship in the whole world was,
so it seemed. We had never seen such an armada of battleships, carriers,
cruisers, destroyers and hundreds of troop ships of every description.
The European war had ended and here we saw British
warships for the first time in our theater of operations. We gave up
on trying to count the huge amount of ships and waited for a few stragglers
to round out our number and set sail again in mass.
In late March of 1945 our huge accumulation of seagoing
ships pulled up anchors and slowly formed up in to convoys for the journey
to Okinawa and it was a sight to behold. Troopships in the center were
herded along under the watchful protection of many warships and destroyers
scuttled around constantly as our 'watchdogs'.
Under the close scrutiny of their Marine passengers,
the 'seagoing' coast guardsmen did their job well and as nearing potential
dangerous waters the convoys began maneuvering in a 'zig-zag' course.
To avoid possible submarine torpedo attacks the course
was changed every few minutes with turns of about fifteen degrees from
left to right and back on cue. A very tricky maneuver with so many ships
trying to keep alignment during turns.
One day our Coast Guard helmsman was ordered to make
a turn to port along with all the other ships, and unaware of a power
failure in the steering he blissfully guided us toward many ships crossing
our bow and others behind heading for our fantail.
We had been served hot dogs on buns and I was eating
mine while on the fantail and chomping away while excitedly watching
a mass collision in the making. Whistles blew, horns honked and bells
rang to alert our emergency steering plan to activate. Deep down in
the aft section one man grabbed to metal rods which pulled chains ratcheted
directly to control the rudder. Earphones gave directions and the man,
alone, guided the ship back on its proper course.
Eventually all was back to normal other than my hot
dog stuck half way down my throat. Immediately many Navy ships around
us began to flash signals toward us and I don't know Morse code but
suspect that most messages were not friendly to our crew.
About this time storm warnings were issued and we
tried to steer around a typhoon in the making. The seas became very
rough and just walking on the deck was difficult. Somehow one of the
crewmen tripped over a switch that activated a smoke screen which covered
our poor maligned ship. Finally it was shut off but it had coated our
already wet decks with a film of black slick oil.
We troops had no place to eat but topside and normally
we lined up with metal trays at the port side galley door and ambled
through the 'cafeteria' type line to be served. Simple. But in these
high seas tossing us about on oil slick decks it was a slight problem.
In a long line we struggled along holding tight to
rails and reached the galley door. There, still holding on, we had to
wait for the apex of our rolling deck and then release our hold. Gravity
propelled us by the servers in a flash while each one threw servings
at our extended trays. Many globs of carrots
and mashed potatoes missed and mixed with the oil and water greasing
our passage demanding more speed.
Some trays were missed completely and those poor slobs
had to hold on to the starboard rail until its rise, release and fling
themselves back to be served again. Mass confusion! We miserable, hungry
peasants could only laugh at this amazing slapstick comedy of mealtime
aboard ship.
The Coast Guard boys had one more stunt to entertain
us as we neared our destination. Docking! As we neared a designated
landing spot on Okinawa we approached a long row of similar LSTs already
there with bow doors open and ramps down. Troops were moving quickly
on to a strangely quiet beach. Undefended? It was April first, 1945
which was Easter Sunday and April Fools day and it appeared a joke might
be in the making with the beaches being so easy to reach and cross.
The harbormaster directed our ship into a slot between
two others and we angled in with a broad turn and it appeared that we
might hit the ship on our port side with a grazing brush. The sailors
on that ship saw it too and began waving their arms and shouting, "Hard
to starboard"!
Our helmsman turned sharply and we didn't actually
hit their old ship, just dragged our out rigging across theirs and knocked
off a few old running lights and stuff. No big deal! I had always admired
the colorful invectives in Navy profanity and as the air turned blue
around us I learned several new words.
This voyage was my first lengthily exposure to Coast
Guard personnel and they won a place in my heart. Their antics served
to brighten many long tedious days at sea. They did their job well and
got us to our destination as they were asked to do.
Okinawa Campaign
The Okinawa campaign was very strange to us at the
onset. Standing on our deck we were amazed to see our infantry standing
upright on the beach and walking on inland with ease. In the distance
we saw our tanks leading lines of men and nothing was slowing or stopping
them.
This was much different than the horrible slaughter
on the beach at Peleliu and Tarawa. Soon we unloaded our big guns and
put them ashore with ease and it was very easy to follow right along
behind the infantry who met very little resistance.
On the main airfield, Yontan, we had expected enormous
amounts of casualties before capturing the important spot. We found
one dead enemy soldier there who was chained to his machine
gun. He had been ordered to stay at his gun till death and they weren't
taking any chances of his not doing as told. Probably a reluctant volunteer!
We began to encounter the pathetic civilians of Okinawa
and these poor victims were so sad to see. We tried to soothe them as
best we could and gave first aid to those injured in the shellings.
They had been told that we were barbaric savages and dined on babies
roasted over a spit. Rapine and torture was our daily fare.
One poor old man knelt before us and asked to be shot
out right. Someone pulled him gently to his feet and gave him food and
a smile. He told an interpreter that he had just cut his daughters throat!
Dear God!
The invasion force numbered about one hundred and
eighty thousand to be landed and uncounted numbers on over fifteen hundred
seagoing ships offshore. It rivaled the Normandy landing in ship count
but many of theirs were not sea going vessels as the short channel crossing
could be made in smaller boats.
Our battle plan called for a complete Marine Division
to maneuver off the southern tip of Okinawa and make a feigned landing
in that area to draw Japanese troops into that area. After making phony
landing passes the whole group got back out of the landing craft and
reboarded transports to wait in reserve
offshore.
As many troops moved south our carrier aircraft strafed
them and then bombed bridges to thwart their return north.
On hitting the beaches the army divisions turned south
and Marine divisions turned north while some went straight ahead and
crossed the island completely. By the end of the first day we were at
points that were to be reached on day three. Then it became a race to
cover real estate quickly with little or no resistance.
The First Marine Division gradually encountered stiffer
resistance moving north and got into a heavy concentration of enemy
troops on the Motobu peninsula. The ensuing battle lasted several days
and then secured the northern segment in less than three weeks.
Our artillery battalion moved along rapidly in trucks
behind the infantry and we saw quaint villages in rural areas virtually
untouched by devastating bombardments as along the coastal areas. One
sight stuck in my memory for all these years. A small village square
had an execution gallows on a grassy park area where one might expect
to see a bandstand.
It may have been more appropriate to see a sign saying
'Teahouse of the August Moon' than that gruesome death structure.
We had our battle strategy and so did the Japanese.
Their plan was to fortify the southern rugged ridge line with thousands
of soldiers dug in and very difficult to even see, while killing many
Americans to delay for the master plan to materialize.
Mass formations of suicide bombers would coordinate
attacks with the Japanese Navy bent on some suicide missions of their
own. This would be the final battle to annihilate the enemy on the door
step of Japan itself.
About April twenty first the Marines were ordered
south to join up with Army divisions who had discovered, devastatingly,
the near impregnable 'Shuri Line'. An ancient castle amid ragged ridges
was slow and costly to conquer.
As the fighting moved on beyond we were within shooting
range of all areas south and established permanent positions at Shuri
Castle, rubble! Eventually the battle ended in our favor but lets review
the lighter side.
Since our position was stationary I felt the need
for a home away from home and gathered up some scrap lumber and roof
materials and built my abode. It had a luxurious wooden deck, metal
roof and cheese cloth screening to repel swarms of flies and mosquitoes.
My envious buddies tried to rent it but were refused. I'd just have
to build another, then another, no!
Mail had begun to arrive regularly again and I was
again the most popular dude in the outfit. One day passing out mail
I saw Lieutenant Englebert sitting in his jeep in deep thought while
studiously picking his nose.
I handed him some mail and sat in the other seat to
read my own mail. He handed back three official looking envelopes with
a bank of Boston logo and grinned, "If they want that Ford back
they're gonna' have to find it in San Diego!"
Opening his package he said, "Hay, look, Mom
sent me a camera...and its loaded...see?" Diaries and cameras were
not allowed for some ridiculous reason and I have always regretted not
having kept a diary and photographic record of those times.
The Lieutenant sat upright and said, "Got an
idea! Lets go up to the front and try to get some pictures of action!"
I agreed, "Great idea, lets go!"
He drove us south through much rubble and many burned
out vehicles with many corpses rotting in the summer sun. Leaning out
his side he cocked an ear to follow sounds of gunfire which would direct
us to the fighting front.
As mortar and machine gun fire became louder he stopped
below a ragged ridge line and we got out to listen. We climbed up and
looked over the crest and sure enough, Marines on our left were firing
across a ravine to Japs on our right.
A fifty-caliber machine gun blazed away from the left
and sent tracers across the ravine and Englebert raised his camera and
tried to get those bright tracers on film. Then, inspired, he handed
me the camera and said, "When that fifty opens up again I'm gonna'
stand up and you try to snap me with those tracers in the background.
Mom would like that!"
This game went on for a few minutes as we each took
turns standing to be photographed with a real battle going on behind
us. Some Japanese wise guy evidently saw us and rudely sprayed a burst
of Nambu machine gun burst our way, scattering gravel at our feet, we
tumbled back down the ridge and hurried away."Wow, that was close...ha..ha...ha!"
Englebert evidently had influential connections, he
really wasn't bright enough to be an officer directing Marines in bat
and as I walked back to the jeep something caught his eye. He went and
bent over a decaying corpse and said, "Hay, this gook has been
boobytrapped!" I moved around to put the jeep between us as he
picked up a wire from the shirt and slowly pulled it out following it
down to the explosive. I glanced at the keys still in the ignition,
didn't want to go search for them in the bloody meat of a former Marine
officer. Pulling out the wire very slowly he saw that it was attached
to the firing pin of a Japanese hand grenade. He stood up, pulled the
pin out and hurled the grenade off into a ravine where it popped loudly.
Climbing back in the jeep he said, "Those dumb gooks got a lot
to learn about setting booby traps."
Driving back down to our area we were just in time
to see the start of another Kamikaze raid with many planes heading for
the ships massed off shore.
Watching this horrible sight was an emotional roller
coaster ride as a plane exploded before impact we cheered just as when
a football crosses the goal line. Then as we see a plane hit a ship
and burst into flame incinerating many sailors our mood immediately
sinks back down to reality...this is no game! They are playing for keeps!
We had set up a fifty-caliber machine gun on a high
tripod to stand below and shoot at low flying aircraft. One Corporal
Sam Dolan was on the gun this day and a Zero suicide plane camp in from
behind us flying low over us to hit the beach where many LSTs were unloading.
Dolan heard the plane and swung the gun around and began firing at the
target only a hundred feet over head.
Blasting away as it flew over he actually hit it and
smoke began to blow out behind as it fell short of the beach. Unknown
to any of us who were cheering was the fact that Dolan's last shot had
misfired and blown the gun apart sending metal hunks into his right
leg.
Jumping around on one leg while the other spurted
blood Dolan cheered right along with the rest of u~ "I got it!
I got it!" Then fell in a laughing heap, holding his leg.
These Kamikaze attacks went on for many days and it
was always an exciting show, especially when our own fighters came in
on the tail of an enemy bomber firing away. Then prudently pulling away
before entering the zone of massive antiaircraft fire from the hundreds
of ships around us.
This show after dark was even more impressive illuminated
all around with the sky covered with spider webs of tracers all over
the spectrum. An occasional midair brilliant explosion indicated a hit
and premature death for one wanting to end his day gloriously in the
inferno of a burning ship.
The many hits we did see were very depressing to watch
as helpless sailors died under fanatical circumstances. Much different
than watching men fall where opponents are shooting it out face to face.
That is war as it should be fought. Equal opportunities for survival
on either side.
The one sidedness of suiciders was incomprehensible
to us and only served to remind us of what lay in store for us when
we finally did invade the Japanese homeland.
We heard that Japanese arsenals were producing no
more rifles or machine-guns but only handguns! Supposedly they were
going to try to arm every man, woman and child to kill as many hated
Americans as possible before dying for the Emperor.
After several miserable months surviving in the many
caves around a few pathetic Okinawans began to appear at entrances and
look down from the ridge line at us below. Evidently they were hungry
enough to risk death seeking food.
One of our group saw them up there about two hundred
feet from our camp. We climbed up the ragged hill and made motions for
them to come on down. The terror in their eyes was pathetic and we decided
to send one of us up alone to appear less fearsome and when I walked
slowly toward them holding hands wide to show that I carried no weapons.
It had been a fairly difficult climb over the rough
terrain and when I knelt down at the cave mouth I smiled in friendly
fashion to calm their fears a bit. Just inside the entry I saw an amazing
sight....a full size upright piano that had been carried up that steep
incline. Why?
The people were desperately hungry and thirsty and
had no recourse other than follow us and come down. As the numbers increased
to twenty, than thirty and more, other Marines came up and assisted
them on the difficult path to the valley floor below.
I gently held the arm of a very old lady and it was
almost void of muscle or flesh. Felt like a broom handle and I spoke
softly in a friendly tone in a language she didn't understand but calmed
her fears somewhat.
Marines are sentimental old fools when it comes to
children and helpless elderly people. They try to dispel the 'killer'
image fostered by their training and vocation by setting up 'Toys for
Tots' collection points at all Marine Reserve Units and frequently establish
orphanages where badly needed in such places as Korea and Viet Nam.
Here compassion was sorely needed and we set out to
try to help these poor victims of a terrible war. They had sickly pale
grayish complexions after months out of the sun, and the children all
had shaved heads to help keep lice away. None had bathed in months and
when we arrived at the little creek on the floor of our valley we stopped
to wash some of the filth from the little babies.
Others continued to appear and seeing no slaughter
below they followed on down to where we had fifty or sixty among us.
It was obvious that the~ were still very frightened even after we gave
them much needed water and some fruit bar rations.
We summoned an interpreter from the Army who came
to tell them that they would be treated properly and housed in a camp
set up especially for refugees. The man was a Japanese-American from
Hawaii where many families speak the language at home and his accent
was pure Japanese.
The heretofore look of fear changed to hatred on the
faces of the Okinawans who glared at him. thinking he was a traitor
to their country. He sensed the hostility, probably used to it and he
explained who was, American, not a traitor. Trucks came from the camp
and carried the folks back there.
Later I drove by the refugee camp and was pleased
to see children at play and women washing clothes inside a clean and
neat tent city compound. They looked healthy and as happy as could be
under the circumstances.
Our bivouac at that time was in a large courtyard
of some sort with an old stone well in the middle. Our motor pool was
set up there and when Marine or Army infantry began to find many Okinawans
coming out of caves they brought them back to us to be trucked back
to the camp.
One day they brought back a young lady in a surprisingly
neat and clean blue kimono with a wide sash binding her waist. They
left her with us and several guys crowded around the doll who brought
to mind Madam Butterfly. One sleazy mechanic was private O. B. Noxious
who put his arm around her and tried to place his other hand inside
her kimoma bosom. She pushed him away and glared defiantly up at the
greasy moron.
Lieutenant Englebert stepped up tapped Noxious and
then pointed to the truck under repair. Then he looked at the little
lady and pointed to the back seat of a nearby jeep She climbed in and
sat quietly and the Lieutenant called out two names of men to escort
the lady to the camp.
Both men, Lynch and Carter were married and Englebert
thought that they may be a bit more respectful to the lady. About an
hour later Lynch came back and joined our group to tell us what had
happened.
When they arrived and stopped at the camp gate the
lady got out and stepped over several mud puddles and on to a grassy
mound near the fence line. There she knelt down on the grass and spoke
to Lynch.
The gate guard started laughing, he said, "She
wants you to shoot her over on the grass so she won't fall in the mud!"
The guard summoned another Okinawan woman who convinced the little lady
that she will not be shot and to come on in.
Our next encounter with refugees was not so amusing but very traumatic
to many of us who witnessed a very disturbing event.
Infantrymen brought back about a dozen emaciated,
frightened people for us to transport back to the camp. With wide eyes
they stood around the old well and waited for whatever was to be their
fate. As we stood around deciding who was to drive the truck we heard
a baby scream and turned to see a woman toss her two small children
into the well and then followed them going in head first.
Several of our guys ran over and saw the children
thrashing around in the water. Two men hurried down finding footing
on protruding rocks in the wall of the well. One handed the baby up
and then grabbed the toddler and passed him up to those above looking
on in horror. The woman was dead weight in every way and very difficult
to pull back out of the well. She was put face down on the ground and
'Bert' began giving artificial respiration.
Later I drove by the refugee camp and was pleased
to see children at play and women washing clothes inside a clean and
neat tent city compound. They looked healthy and as happy as could be
under the circumstances.
Our bivouac at that time was in a large courtyard
of some sort with an old stone well in the middle. Our motor pool was
set up there and when Marine or Army infantry began to find many Okinawans
coming out of caves they brought them back to us to be trucked back
to the camp.
After several miserable months surviving in the many
caves around a few pathetic Okinawans began to appear at entrances and
look down from the ridge line at us below. Evidently they were hungry
enough to risk death seeking food.
One of our group saw them up there about two hundred
feet from our camp. We climbed up the ragged hill and made motions for
them to come on down. The terror in their eyes was pathetic and we decided
to send one of us up alone to appear less fearsome and when I walked
slowly toward them holding hands wide to show that I carried no weapons.
It had been a fairly difficult climb over the rough
terrain and when I knelt down at the cave mouth I smiled in friendly
fashion to calm their fears a bit. Just inside the entry I saw an amazing
sight....a full size upright piano that had been carried up that steep
incline. Why?
The people were desperately hungry and thirsty and
had no recourse other than follow us and come down. As the numbers increased
to twenty, than thirty and more, other Marines came up and assisted
them on the difficult path to the valley floor below.
I gently held the arm of a very old lady and it was
almost void of muscle or flesh. Felt like a broom handle and I spoke
softly in a friendly tone in a language she didn't understand but calmed
her fears somewhat.
Marines are sentimental old fools when it comes to
children and helpless elderly people. They try to dispel the 'killer'
image fostered by their training and vocation by setting up 'Toys for
Tots' collection points at all Marine Reserve Units and frequently establish
orphanages where badly needed in such places as Korea and Viet Nam.
Here compassion was sorely needed and we set out to
try to help these poor victims of a terrible war. They had sickly pale
grayish complexions after months out of the sun, and the children all
had shaved heads to help keep lice away. None had bathed in months and
when we arrived at the little creek on the floor of our valley we stopped
to wash some of the filth from the little babies.
Others continued to appear and seeing no slaughter
below they followed on down to where we had fifty or sixty among us.
It was obvious that the~ were still very frightened even after we gave
them much needed water and some fruit bar rations.
We summoned an interpreter from the Army who came
to tell them that they would be treated properly and housed in a camp
set up especially for refugees. The man was a Japanese-American from
Hawaii where many families speak the language at home and his accent
was pure Japanese.
The heretofore look of fear changed to hatred on the
faces of the Okinawans who glared at him. thinking he was a traitor
to their country. He sensed the hostility, probably used to it and he
explained who was, American, not a traitor. Trucks came from the camp
and carried the folks back there.
The shout, "Corpsman!" always draws a crowd
and the crying babies also attracted lots of attention. The motor pool
area was soon filled with many of us watching the drama unfold. The
remaining refugees soon lost their frightened expressions and their
looks became incredulous as to what these 'barbarians' were doing trying
desperately to succor the 'enemy', Okinawans.
Eventually they melded into the crowd and became ordinary
bystanders. The medic came and took a quick look at the babies and then
knelt beside the woman and felt her wrist for pulse beat. Then he looked
over at 'Bert' and shook his head. They then turned her back face up
and he felt again around the throat but found no life beat.
He then tried to help the two small children who were
still crying hysterically. Both were in the arms of oversized Marines
who were try to soothe them rocking from side to side. The medic finally
cooled their abrasions and cuts and they calmed a bit.
Someone said, "Lets bury her." and several
men went back to get shovels and a blanket to wrap the body in. Corporal
Tom DeMarco dug a grave near a wall in soft red soil while others placed
the woman on a blanket and folded it over her.
The forgotten refugees began to mingle with their
recent 'enemies' and a nursing mother came to take the tiny infant to
feed and calm it. Others came and took the other child with a simple
look of gratitude for the scene just witnessed.
One elderly lady knelt beside the blanket wrapped
corpse and looked up a plea. She then unwrapped the blanket and we saw
those dead eyes wide with fright and the lady gently closed them and
brushed sand from the cheek while pushing hair back over the head. She
then folded the hands over the dead bosom and recovered the body with
the United States Marine Corps blanket.
Two men carried it over to the grave and placed it
down gently, then stood back. DeMarco kissed his crucifix then made
the sign of the cross and began shoveling dirt into the grave.
To all of us this was a very very traumatic experience,
mainly to think that a mother would kill her children rather than have
them fall into our hands. We all felt ashamed that such an image of
us had been perpetrated. To a man we loved children and wouldn't consider
anything harmful to be allowed on their persons.
Several of the Okinawans went over and said their
prayers at the grave and then we helped all of them up into the truck.
In less than an hour their countenance had changed from horror to calm
witnesses to a dramatic event.
As the truck pulled away some of us waved at them
and some of them waved back. We did feel better! Humanity is divinity, divided without, united within!
As the enemy was compressed into the southern tip
of the island we began to see a very strange phenomenon, live Japanese
soldiers! Throughout the south Pacific war we had seen many deceased
enemy and very few live ones, much to our chagrin; no targets!
The U.S. had scattered thousands of surrender leaflets
on them, guaranteeing safe passage for the bearer. Printed in two languages
it advised us to treat bearers with the terms of the Geneva convention,
although Japan was not a signatory.
A few came forth cautiously, holding the leaflet high
and showing no arms in hand. As these were allowed to enter our ranks
safely, others observed and followed suit. First they came in dozen
lots and then hundreds. As I remember the final count was over ten thousand.
An amazing sight.
We had no facilities to keep that large amount under
guard so they were funneled into a location of several acres and then
a large white stripe was painted on the ground in a square around them.
They were advised that this was the 'fence' and not to cross it. Then
we painted another larger white square about twenty feet outside the
first and they were advised that crossing the outer square meant sudden
death by machine gun squads set up around the line.
I drove by this 'POW camp' and saw the very strange
sight of many thousands of defeated Japanese troops looking belligerent
still as they glowered at us.
As the battle for Okinawa slowly wound down we began
to hear)rumors of our relief from this tedious adventure and we thought
we saw 'light at the end of this miserable tunnel'.
At long last, our 'parole' came and word was spread
that we would board homeward bound ships Wednesday, two days hence.
We were ecstatic and laughed like loons while packing for that long
dreamed of trip back home.
Colonel Hyatt called my name and I went over to him
and he handed me an envelope, saying, "These are your travel orders!
You are not going to ride our slow boat back, you fly! This is your
triple A air priority and you will be there to greet us when we finally
do get there."
I knew that this was too good to be true and I said,
"Why can't I go with the guys?" He said that I was to stay
behind for just two more weeks and forward all the battalions mail and
then fly home! My tears had no effect on him and he said that he had
arranged for me to stay with an antiaircraft unit on a nearby hill.
Eat and sleep there for only two weeks and then fly back to greet us
at the dock in San Francisco.
Colonel Hyatt was a big guy and while I whined and
moaned in grief he patted my head, saying "You'll be fine, see
you when we get back."
At about the lowest ebb of my life I stood and waved
at all those happy friends pulling away in trucks to go board a ship
that would take them back to the promised land, minus me!
I never saw them again!
Okinawa is situated on about the same latitude as
south Texas where it does get cold and sometimes freezes. We had been
'living' in the tropical heat for several years and were not physically
acclimatized to cool weather and as I remember, in April when we landed
the temperature at night was in the forties.
We were issued lightweight Windbreaker type jackets
and an extra blanket but having to sleep on cold wet ground caused many
of us to develop severe head colds which lasted for weeks.
Smitten with self pity my physical condition deteriorated
and my cold settled into my chest causing much coughing, misery and
yellow phlegm. I moped around hardly speaking to the fresh recruit army
boys manning the antiaircraft gun and they avoided me. I heard one use
the term 'spooky' talking about me.
As my two weeks in purgatory finally ended my cold
had worsened and I was a bit feverish as I presented my travel papers
to a dispatcher at Yonnd. We were all superstitious about one thing,
getting 'knocked off' the last day before going home, and stories abounded
about guys being zapped by air raids here at Yontan. Bombers dropped
a few most every night here and as I found a bunk under canvas I noticed
that there were no foxholes in sight. We never slept well with out the
comforting nearness of a hole in the ground.
Sleeping in fitful snatches while coughing and wheezing
we did have several air raid alerts and I was protected by a double
layer of canvas, the tent and the cot that I hid under.
Day two at Yontan found me still sitting on a bench
under a sullen funk while watching droves of officers respond to their
name called and go board aircraft.
Late in the afternoon I heard my name called and raced
out to get aboard a four engine DC4 transport plane. Climbing aboard
I saw that it was packed with uniformed passengers, on the metal deck,
mostly.
This was designed for freight, not people, and it
had a long metal rod with an canvas cover, pulled down to make one long
'bucket' seat. That was 'first class' and we peons were 'tourist' class
and flopped on the floor in close proximity.
As we became airborne I stood up and looked out a
window and saw the southern tip of the island fade away in the mist.
My last view of the place and the war, as it were. My backpack was my
pillow and I sank into exhausted, feverish sleep lulled by the drone
of engines vibrating through the deck.
Sometime later I was rudely awakened by bouncing up
and down several inches off the deck, holding my pack pillow close to
my bumping head. I noticed that it was very dark with bright flashes
of lightening revealing the sight of many men crowded up to the small
windows. Crawling up and peering between them I saw a very scary sight
of wings flapping in the heavy winds and turbulence.
We non-flyers were amazed to see the wing tips actually
bobbing up and down about six feet as the deck below us fell and rose.....frightening
to us earthlings!
Accepting my fate, whatever, I returned to resume
sleeping on the hard, bumpy deck. When I regained consciousness it was
quiet again and I expected to see Angels and harps and stuff, but again
the fellows were at the windows staring out at a very strange site,
lights of a city ahead!
In war zones blackouts become a way of life and very
few electric lights are ever seen, other than on vehicles where they
dimmed squinting through 'blinders'. We accepted darkness as normal
for several years and were thrilled to see brilliant lights of Agana,
Guam come into view.
We shouted to one another excitedly as neon signs
pointed out BAR! Wow, liquor, cafe and so forth. Traffic lights glowed
red and green with auto lights lined up. Thrilling, then the runway
lights inviting us to come on in and set a spell.
It was midnight when we were trucked over to a transit
camp and directed to beds to relieve our aching backs but we had difficulty
sleeping in our excited state of mind. I had slept soundly on that bouncing
deck but only fitful naps here on a cot with even a mattress pad on
it.
My first morning on Guam found me asking directions
to the sick bay since my cough and fever seemed worse than before. I
felt miserable and I told the doctor so as he listened to my breathing
through a stethoscope, frowning. He pulled it out of his ears and said,
"You have good reason to feel lousy, you have lobar pneumonia!"
He called a medic and said "Lets get this man
in the hospital right away!" I stood up and walked toward the door
and said, "No way! I'm going home if its on a stretcher. We argued
a while and he reluctantly released me with a few pills to help ease
the situation a bit, advising that I rest as much as possible.
As we inquired about our continuing flight we were
told that there may be some delay with the mass migration of people
going home from the war. Advised to stand by and wait for our names
to be called, they said try to relax and enjoy the rest. If we were
still not airborne by nightfall we could go enjoy a movie at a nearby
open air theater.
The long day ended with us still there and at twilight
we ambled over to sit on logs and wait for dark to see a movie. Loudspeakers
on either side of the screen were blaring music from armed forces radio
and suddenly it stopped for an important announcement.
"Today the United States Air Force dropped an
atomic bomb on Hiroshima, Japan! This one super bomb has the explosive
power of nine zillion tons of T.N.T. and really zapped 'em!"
We cheered at the thought that a bunch of these super
bombs may shorten the war and even negate the need of invading Japan,
which was a constant source of unrest in those of us most likely to
be sent back to do just that.
Seeing the pathetic suffering of the innocent civilians
on Okinawa was foremost in our minds and realizing that it would be
even worse invading the Japanese homeland. Most assuredly we would be
forced to fight men, women and children all bent on killing the intruders
in suicidal fanaticism.
Who to shoot and who not to shoot would have been
uppermost in our minds and we would have been haunted the rest of our
lives about doubts in that endeavor. Horrifying thought!
The frustrating wait at this transit camp lasted three
days and we were disgusted in the fact that our air priorities evidently
were worthless. While grinding our teeth and cursing the fickle finger
of fate we heard an announcement informing us that surface transportation
was available on a ship leaving today heading east and those of us who
chose to could board after noon chow.
Many of us were ready to try to swim home at that
time and decided it might be better to take a ship. A truck was sent
over for us and we asked the driver what kind of a ship it was. He leaned
out of the cab window and said, "Its a carrier!"
We did feel better about it and began to talk of the
many advantages of riding home on a carrier. Lots of deck space for
us to sleep on, good chow and some even have ice cream bars!
As we arrived near the coastline our driver turned
down a beach road where many LSTs stood with gaping mouths. As we stopped
in front of one ugly duckling the driver stepped out of the cab and
said, "I said carrier! I didn't say what it carried, ha, ha, ha!"
as he ran down the beach to avoid an angry lynch mob. We sullenly walked
up the ramp while thinking that the planes may have got there in two
days. It may take two weeks in this slow boat to Chinatown!
L.S.T. meant 'landing ship tank', but to us it was
'large slow target' and this one carried no heavy equipment and rode
high on the water like a child's bathtub toy.,~very little wave caused
it to shudder from fore to aft fostering a queasy feeling to us standing
o~ deck.
Those of us on board were very disgruntled and not
a bunch of 'happy campers' and avoided even eye contact with each other.
I noticed that the majority of them were commissioned officers and high
rated non commissioned officers who had all been bounced down from first
class to steerage.
On the first day out I was standing at the rail spitting
cough ups into the foam of our wake drifting by at nine knots when someone
called out my name. I turned and responded to an officer with a clipboard
in hand.
He said, "Report to the galley, you're on mess
duty!" as he made a check off on his clipboard. I was flabbergasted!
I said, "Sir, I am a noncommissioned officer, we do not do mess
duty!" He glared at me and said, "You are one of the lowest
ranking people on this ship and will do as I order or we will have you
'before the mast' in one minute!"
I walked toward the galley completely whipped. I hadn't
had to serve mess duty since boot camp almost three years ago and after
three 'campaigns' and many many friends I had acquired a modicum of
prestige. I had been hit in the gut with a sledge hammer which added
to my puny physical misery.
Reporting to the navy cook with fire in my eyes he
pointed to the big metal sink and said, "Pot wollaper", and
avoided my eyes for the remainder of the week.
That day, August ninth, was a momentous day with the
second atomic bomb having been dropped on Nagasaki. Then Russia declared
war on dying Japan and raced down toward Manchuria's industrial area.
As dumb as I was about international affairs even I knew that they were
going down to steal all those factories, which they did. I was unaware
of the fact that the Potsdam agreement programmed their declaration
of war on Japan as soon as Germany folded.
Part 1 | Part 2 |
Part 3 | Part 4 |
Part 5 | Part 6 |
Part 7 | Part 8 |
Part 9 | Part 10
