A Quarterly Publication of the World War II Veterans Committee ISSUE XXXIV, Spring, 2006

World War II

Chronicles

The Pied Piper of

SAIPAN

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 2

World War II Chronicles

A Quarterly Publication of the World War II Veterans Committee

-In This Issue--In This Issue--In This Issue--In This Issue--In This Issue-

WWW.WWIIVETS.COM ISSUE XXXIV, Spring, 2006

Articles

5A Lone-Wolf Marine byGuy GabaldonThe story of how one man, dubbed the “PiedPiper of Saipan,” single-handedly captured1,500 Japanese

14A Dramatic Rescue in the South China Sea byRear Admiral Robert W. McNittAn act of heroism aboard one of the mostlegendary submarines of World War II

Features

World War II Book Club

What I’ve Learned byHunter ScottReflections on the World War II generation froma member of the latest generation

28

3117

A Dangerous and Hazardous MissionAn excerpt from the radio documentary seriesVeterans Chronicles, featuring an interview withYank correspondent Dave Richardson

Committee ActivitiesListen to World War II Chronicles on-the-go

32

The Pied Piper ofSaipan

23

In Their Own WordsHighlighting Soldiering For Freedom: A GI’sAccount of World War II by Herman J.Obermayer

More Chronicles

By July 7, 1944, Japanese hopes to turn back theAmerican invasion of Saipan had been crushed,and defeat was inevitable. Lt. General YoshitsuguSaito, commander of the Japanese forces, orderedhis remaining men to attack the American posi-tions in one final massive Banzai charge. As theJapanese gathered their forces for this suicide mis-sion, little did they know that hidden among themwas a young American Marine, watching their every move…

In this issue of World War II Chronicles, Guy Gabaldon, the “Pied Piper ofSaipan,” recounts his remarkable story…

Still Available from the World War II Veterans Committee

Still available from the World War II Veterans Committee is our 2006commemorative calendar. This glossy oversized calendar featurescolorized reproductions of some of the most famous and legendary

moments of World War II, including the flag-raising at Iwo Jima, GeneralEisenhower addressing the troops prior to D-Day, and General

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Reduced Price!

From the Editor

A Time for Courage

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 3

By Tim G.W. Holbert

World War II Chronicles

World War II Veterans CommitteeDavid Eisenhower - Honorary Chairman

James C. Roberts - PresidentMichael Paradiso - Publisher

Tim G.W. Holbert - Editor/Program Director

World War II Chronicles, Issue XXXIV, Spring 2006.

A quarterly publication of the World War II Veterans Committee, 1030 15th St, NWSuite 856, Washington, DC 20005. Telephone: 202-777-7272. Fax: 202-408-0624.

The World War II Veterans Committee is a project of the American Veterans Center,a 501(c)(3) non-profit public education foundation. World War II Chronicles is mailedto donors to the World War II Veterans Committee who make a contribution of $50or more per-year. Contributions help to fund the Committee’s various speaker con-ferences, student programs, the National Memorial Day Parade, documentary andoral history projects, and this publication. To make a contribution or subscribe, call202-777-7272 or e-mail wwii@wwiivets.com

Visit the Committee’s web site at www.wwiivets.com.

Recently, in my spare time, I have been reading the book, Manlinessby Harvard professor Harvey Mansfield. A combination of his-tory, philosophy, and sociology, Mansfield’s book is a “modest de-fense” of the quality of “manliness,” a trait that can be present inboth men and women (Britain’s Margaret Thatcher is a prime ex-ample of a woman exhibiting these traits), and in its best formsfeatures confidence in risky situations, self-assertion, and an in-tense loyalty to cause and comrades.

It struck me while reading the book that no other time in our nation’shistory embodied the qualities of “manliness” than that of WorldWar II. War is the riskiest of situations, and to prove victorious,confidence in the face of possible destruction is constantly calledupon. In the darkest of days, “manliness” is a quality much indemand, though sometimes hard to find. Fortunately, the Alliednations of World War II had leaders who rose to the challenge.Winston Churchill, who embodied manly confidence, said to hisfighting men upon taking control of the government, “Arm your-selves, and be ye men of valour, and be in readiness for the con-flict; for it is better for us to perish in battle than to look upon theoutrage of our nation and our altar.” Clearly, this was a man whowould never bow to Nazi tyranny.

The half-American Churchill would be joined by millions of hiscountrymen, and his cousins across the Atlantic. These brave he-roes knew their duty, and when faced with two of the most evilforces in history, Nazism and Japanese Imperialism, they did notflinch. Many were willing to sacrifice themselves so that othersmight live in freedom. Theirs is a form of “manliness” that onecannot help but admire.

This issue of World War II Chronicles features several stories fromveterans who typify the best qualities of manliness, and one by aman who had a front row seat to witness some of the worst. GuyGabaldon, a poor but tough kid from the streets of Los Angeles,fought with the 2nd Marines in the battle for Saipan. Throughoutthe battle, he consistently strayed behind enemy lines, where hecould have easily been killed, in order to convince many of thedoomed Japanese defenders to surrender, rather than throw theirlives away in futile suicide charges. Gabaldon’s tremendous couragein the face of danger not only saved the lives of hundreds ofJapanese, but also the Marines they would have otherwise attacked.

The story of the USS Barb is one that every American should know.Led by Medal of Honor recipient Eugene B. Fluckey and his ex-ecutive officer Robert W. McNitt, the Barb sank more enemy ton-nage than any other U.S. ship during the war. “Lucky” Fluckey’sdaring and leadership were invaluable to the Allied war effort in thePacific. Here, Robert W. McNitt tells another story of courage,only this time it is to save Allied prisoners of the Japanese, ma-rooned in the water when the freighter carrying them was sunk.Meanwhile, in the jungles of Burma, Dave Richardson, a corre-spondent for Yank magazine, insisted that he stand alongside themen of Merrill’s Marauders in order to personally tell their story,when he could have easily taken an assignment in much less brutalconditions.

While each of these men embodied the characteristics of “manli-ness” at its best, Hermann J. Obermayer saw them at its worst.Obermayer, in his book Soldiering for Freedom, recounts being in thecourtroom at Nuremberg when the first evidence was presented ofthe Nazis liquidating six million Jews. While “manliness” at its bestfeatures courage and self-sacrifice, at its worst it consists of a lustfor power, and to dominate all in its path. It can be overly obsessedwith honor, and cannot tolerate shame. The Nazis rise to power ispartly attributable to the collective sense of shame felt by the Ger-man people following World War I. Channeling their aggression ledGermany to lash out, with disastrous consequences. Meanwhile,Japanese fanatics, bent on preserving their honor, died needlessdeaths in suicide attacks rather than suffer the shame of defeat.Today, in some parts of the world, these same symptoms of collec-tive shame have led some people to lash out in similar ways. Howdisastrous their consequences may be have yet to be fully seen.

All of this shows exactly why it is imperative that the history ofWorld War II, and the legacy of its veterans, be preserved forfuture generations. The era of the Second World War saw the verybest in mankind, the courage and character necessary to make theworld a better and safer place. It also demonstrated the potentialfor human evil, how and why it can take hold of a people, and whatmust be done to stop it. The lessons of World War II are ones thatshould never be forgotten. It is up to us to make sure that they arenot.

WWII

Over sixty years ago, the Allied armies in the West stormed across Eu-rope, into the heart of Hitler’s Third Reich. This September, you havethe opportunity to follow in their footsteps. In the wake of the WorldWar II Veterans Committee’s successful 2005 tour, we are once againproud to sponsor an exclusive tour of all of the major war sites on theWestern Front. This year, we welcome special guest tour guide DonaldBurgett, who with the legendary 101st Airborne Division, traveled asimilar route six decades ago. A celebrated author, Burgett’s bookCurrahee!, which recounts his parachute jump into Normandy, is one ofthe great stories of World War II, and the only book on the war per-sonally endorsed by Dwight D. Eisenhower. For veterans and historybuffs alike, this one of a kind tour will take you from London to Berlin,and all the points in between, on “The Road to Victory: 2006.”

guest tour guide

Donald BurgettVeteran of A Company, 506th PIR, 101st

Airborne DivisionAuthor of Currahee! A Screaming

Eagle in Normandy,Road to Arnhem, Seven Roads to Hell,

and Beyond the Rhine

London - Portsmouth - Normandy - Paris - Bastogne - Munich - Nuremberg - Berlin

September 17 - October 1, 2006

The Road to VictorY: 2006An Exclusive Tour of the Western Front of the

European Theater in World War II

Only from the World War II Veterans Committee

--Tour of Blenheim Palace,birthplace of Sir WinstonChurchill and lecture by Hon.Celia Sandys, noted author andgranddaughter of Churchill

--Visit to Bletchley Park, cen-ter of the British efforts tobreak the German EnigmaSystem

--Visit to Southwick House,SHAEF Headquarters forGeneral Eisenhower

--Tour of the Normandybeaches and the AmericanCemetery, Pointe du Hoc, andSt. Mere Eglise

--Stops at the Surrender Mu-seum in Reims, GeneralPatton’s gave in Luxembourg,and the Battle of the BulgeMuseum at Bastogne

--Visit to the concentrationcamp museum at Dachau

--Tour of Hitler’s mountain-top retreat, the “Eagle’s Nest”

--Stops at the Brown Houseand the Feldherrnhalle, sitesof early Nazi rallies

--Tour of Nuremberg, site ofthe Nazi war crimes trials

--Visits to the WannseeHouse, infamous birthplaceof “The Final Solution;” theMuseum Berlin Karlshorst,site of the surrender of theWehrmacht to the Red Army;and the site of the bunkerwhere Hitler met his demise

--Tours of London, Ports-mouth, Paris, Munich, andBerlin

Highlights Include:

Full-Tour Price: $5850(London-Berlin, September 17 - October 1)

Price includes airfare from Washington, DC, 4 hotels, 2 meals daily,private bus, knowledgeable English-speaking guides throughout,all entrance fees, many extras. Land-only and single-supplementsare available. Based on 26 registrants. Air taxes not included.Land Only: $5255 Single Supplement: $750Partial Tour from Paris-Berlin Available

For a full itinerary and registration form, contactVicki Doyle at:Vicki Doyle Tours Phone:703-418-09391300 Crystal Drive Cell: 703-298-9044#502S E-mail: vtourz@starpower.netArlington, VA 22202 Website: vickidoyletours.com And Much More!

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 5

A Lone-Wolf Marine

By Guy Gabaldon

How One Man Captured 1,500 Japanese on Saipan

Guy Gabaldon served with the 2nd Marine Division in the battlefor Saipan. Prior to joining the military, he had grown up on therough streets of East Los Angeles. Gabaldon, an American His-panic, was raised by a Japanese American foster family, who hadtaught him the Japanese language. On Saipan, he put this skill towork. Going out on “lone-wolf ” patrols, Gabaldon would approacha cave where Japanese soldiers or civilians were hidden, shoot anyguards, then yell in Japanese that any insideshould surrender, and that he would not harmany who did. Using his fluent “street” Japa-nese, Gabaldon developed an incredibly effec-tive technique, which resulted in the surrenderof about 1,500 Japanese—a remarkable featconsidering that in the seizure of Tarawa onlya few months earlier, only 146 prisoners weretaken out of a garrison of 5,000. His ex-traordinary story was made into the 1960movie, Hell to Eternity, and earned himthe nickname “The Pied Piper of Saipan.”Here, Gabaldon recounts how he single-handedly secured the surrender of nearly 800Japanese in a single day…

On the afternoon of 6 July I sneakedinto the hottest and most dangerous Japanese area of theCampaign – Marpi Point. Again I say, “Ignorance is bliss.”If I’d known of the thousands of Japanese in that areareadying for the Banzai attack on the next day, I would nothave attempted the incursion into their “impenetrable” area.

I went behind their lines before they attacked the Marineand Army units in San Roque and Tanapag. My positiongave me a grandstand view of the formation of the biggest“Gyokusai Banzai” attack on Saipan. Once behind the linesthere was absolutely no way that I could rejoin my unit. Iwas caught behind the lines, and my future looked verybleak. The yells of “Dai Tenoheika Banzai” (Long live theEmperor) could be heard as the enemy made their finalfanatical preparations. I saw many Japanese troops comingup from the seaside cliffs. They had been hiding in the cavesbelow what is now known as “Banzai Cliffs,” and the “LastCommand Post” area. They were determined to die in theirlast ditch efforts to kill “seven to one.” It was easy to dis-tinguish the civilians from the military, but even the civil-

ians had the fanatical spirit of the Bushido Code of War. Itwas do or die, for the vast majority it was going to be “die.”

During the night of 6 July it was fever pitch all over theMarpi Point area, now called “The Last Command Post.” Iremained hidden in my little niche. No one was about tosearch for an American in this last bastion of Japs on Saipan.

I’m sure that they could not imagine aMarine hiding among them. It was agreat vantage point for me.

How do I get out of this jam? How willI ever get past thousands of armed fa-natics? I don’t dare try to take any pris-oners under these circumstances. Itseemed deserted when I came into thearea, but that was because the Japs werein the caves below the cliff line.

The following is the last entry in a diarytaken from the body of a Japanesemedic. The entry was being written as Iwas in hiding in the same area as thisJap soldier. It will serve to illustrate the

desperate mentality of do or die of the suicide bent Japs,both civilians and military. They had sworn, for the gloryof the Emperor, to kill seven Marines to one Jap:

6 July, 1944 – Received an artillery barrage during the night andtook refuge among the rocks, as each round approached nearer andnearer I closed my eyes and waited for it. Rifle reports and tanksseemed nearer and everyone took cover within the forest and waitedfor the enemy to approach.

Soon the voices of the enemy could be heard and machine gun bulletswould be heard over our heads. Then the Captain ordered us to takecover. When I looked from around the side of the rock, I could seethe hateful bearded faces of the enemy shining in the sunlight.

With a terrific report the rock in front of me exploded and theSergeant who joined us last night was killed, and also the Corporalreceived wounds in his left thigh, however, I could not treat thewounded even though I wanted to do so. Everyone hugged the groundand was quiet, waiting for an opening in the enemy.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 6

As I stood up to take a rifle from one of the dead a bullet hitbetween my legs and I thought I was hit.

I looked back, it was my friend Corporal Ito laying on his back witha rifle in his arms. A Corporal who had been in my section sinceNagoya, had been killed after fierce counter-fire from the enemy. Iapproached Ito’s body. He had a bullet through his right templewith his eyes half open and his lips tightly clenched. I’ll take Ito’srevenge.

Corporal Yasuhiro also had wounds in both legs. Pathetically, hesaid, “Please cut (my head off) skillfully.” Lieutenant Matsumai,with sweat pouring down his head took one stroke, two strokes, andfinally, with the third stroke, he cut the Corporal’s head off.

The rifle reports subsided. However, the reports commenced roaringin the frontal area. I pocketed the scroll written by Corporal Ono’shand. He stated that he will commit sui-cide tomorrow. Soon a terrific squall be-gan to get everyone drenched.

7 July 1944 (no entry) –

(Another fanatical enemy gone.)

The biggest and last Banzai attacklaunched by the Japs was on 7 Julyat San Roque. This fanatical thrustcontinued for 15 hours.

The 3rd Battalion of the 10th Marines,an artillery unit, fought as an Infan-try unit, and although outnumbered, held off the large en-emy fighting force and eventually defeated the suicidal at-tackers. The soldiers of the 27th Army Division fought inthis battle like they had never fought before. They did abeautiful job in repulsing the fanatical Japs. Marines andsoldiers died fighting back-to-back.

While the Banzai attack was taking place I was hundredsof yards ahead of our units. Two days prior to the attack Icaptured one hundred thirty-two of the enemy near MarpiPoint.

I turned these prisoners over to Captain Schwabe and Lt.High, and was accredited officially with that amount, andit was entered into the Intelligence report. I was about themake my biggest haul, 800 Japanese military and civilians,all armed to the teeth and ready to commit suicide.

On 7 July, early in the morning the Japanese launched theirmost ferocious Banzai attack. It was to be their last orga-nized Banzai attack – several thousand Japs would die inthis one. It was nothing less than a mass suicide attack.They knew that their forces could not, under any circum-stances, defeat the Americans. This fanatical suicide at-tack had as many civilians participating as there were mili-tary. Lt. General Saito had ordered the “Gyokusai” attack,which means “Die in Honor.”

He told his men to kill no less than seven Americans each.He hyped everyone with the lie that the Emperor had per-sonally ordered the Gyokusai attack by means of a mes-sage that was dropped by an aircraft the night before. Thehatred for Americans harbored by the soldiers and civiliansmade them susceptible to the General’s lies.

They agreed to commit suicide intheir efforts to kill Americans. Theirbattle cry during that attack was“Seven lives for the Emperor.” A fif-teen-hour Banzai attack is a long,drawn out battle. The Jap civiliansfought as tenaciously as the military– they were all bent on “seven forone.”

To illustrate the ferocity with whichthe civilians fought in this“Gyokusai” attack I submit the fol-lowing farewell address by Lt. Gen-eral Saito:

I am addressing the Officers and men of the Imperial Army onSaipan. For more than twenty days since the American devils at-tacked, the officers, men, and civilian employees of the ImperialArmy and Navy on this island have fought well and bravely.

Everywhere they have demonstrated the honor and glory of the Im-perial forces. I expected that every man would do his duty. Heavenhas not given us the opportunity: we have not been able to utilizefully the terrain. We have fought in unison up to the present time,but now we have no material with which to fight, and our artilleryfor attack is completely destroyed. Our comrades have fallen oneafter the other.

Despite the bitterness of defeat we pledge seven lives to repay ourcountry. The barbarous attack of the enemy is being continued. Eventhough the enemy has occupied only a corner of Saipan, we are dyingwithout avail under the violent bombing and shelling. Whether weattack or stay where we are, there is only death. But, in death there

Marines on Saipan flush out the enemy withdemolition charges, then pick them off as they

scramble from their holes.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 7

is life. We must use this opportunity to exalt true Japanese man-hood. I will advance with those who remain to deliver another blowto the American devils. And leave my bones on Saipan as a bul-wark of the Pacific. I will never suffer the disgrace of being takenalive, and I will offer up the courage of my soul.

I calmly rejoice in living by the Eternal Principal. I pray with youfor the Eternal life of the Emperor and the welfare of our country.I advance to seek out the enemy. Follow me!

I resent General Saito using thoselast two words, “Follow me!” Thatis the 2nd Marine Division’s motto.

What a con job. General Saitosoft-shoed thousands of militaryand civilians to attack us, but heand Admiral Nagumo did not havethe guts to face the Marines. Theyretired to their quarters and or-dered their aides to shoot them intheir heads after they cut theirstomachs open.

The Japanese civilian laborersjoined the attacking forces andfought with great determinationto kill seven “American devils” toone Jap. That shows the extremedanger when taking Jap civilian prisoners. The women aswell as the men harbored a hatred that drove them to de-sire death in exchange for an “American devil.” All Japa-nese, civilians as well as military, were committed to thefinal destruction of the “American devils.” General Saitoordered that any survivors of the Gyokusai Banzai attackmust commit suicide. Their desperation made them all themore dangerous.

I saw the Japanese begin to assemble around dusk. Thepreparations were at a fever pitch; the Nips were eager tokill the enemy. The civilians seemed especially proud to beconsidered members of the military even though they knewthat they would die on the following day. Many seemed tobe high on Sake. They had drunk more on this occasionthan they do during the ceremonial suicide toast.

When marching to their death they formed a column offour that stretched out more than two miles.

The official figure for enemy killed in this final attack is4,500, but many wounded Japs threw themselves into the

ocean which would have brought the count up consider-ably.

Most of the Banzai survivors took refuge in the caves alongthe cliffs. I saw many of them retreat to the bottom of“Banzai Cliffs” near my hiding place. I didn’t realize it thenbut these fanatics were to become my prisoners. The “im-possible” was about to take place.

It was in the morning of 8 July that I took two prisoners ontop of the Banzai Cliffs. I talkedwith them at length trying to con-vince them that to continue fight-ing would amount to sure deathfor them. I told them that if theycontinued fighting our flamethrowers would roast them alive.

I pointed to the many ships wehad lying off shore waiting to blastthem in their caves. “Why diewhen you have a chance to sur-render under honorable condi-tions? You are taking civilians totheir death which is not part ofyour Bushido military code.”

The big job was going to be in con-vincing them that we would not

torture and kill them – that they would be well treated andwould be returned to Japan after the war. I understood thattheir Bushido Code called for death before surrender, andthat to surrender was to be considered a coward. This wasgoing to be a tough nut to crack.

It was either convincing them that I was a good guy or Iwould be a dead Marine within a few minutes. I knew thatthere were hundreds of die-hard enemy at the bottom ofthe cliffs and if they rushed me I would probably kill twoor three before they ate me alive. This was the final show-down. Can I pull this off ? I had to beat the odds so far, butnow the odds are almost insurmountable against being ableto get these suicidal Nips into surrendering.

I finally talked one of my two prisoners to return to thebottom of the cliffs and to try to convince his fellowGyokusai Banzai survivors that they would be treated withdignity if they surrendered.

I kept the other one with me, not as a hostage, but becausehe said that if he went to the caves with my message and

A Japanese soldier lies dead after a futile attack againstAmerican forces on Saipan. Casualties on Saipan were

tremendous, with the United States losing 3,500 killed andover 13,000 wounded. Of about 31,000 Japanese defend-

ers, 29,000 were killed or committed suicide.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 8

they did not buy it, off with the head. I couldn’t help agree-ing with him. The one that descended the cliff either hadlots of guts or he was going to double-cross me and comeback with his troops firing away. Who was the prisoner, meor the Japs? This was the first time that I was caught in thistype of predicament. I had many close calls in shoot-outsand forays into enemy territory, but this was mixing it withthose bent on killing seven Ma-rines to one Jap.

Here he comes with twelve moremilitary personnel, each with arifle. This is it! This time I can’ttell them to drop their weapons,I can’t tell them they are sur-rounded. I am now a prisoner ofthe fanatical Manchurian Cam-paign veterans.

They don’t say a word. They juststand there in front of me wait-ing for the next move. They’renot pointing their weapons at me,but on the other hand, they don’thave to. If I go to fire they wouldhave the drop on me. They’d chopme down before I fire a round. Imust keep my cool or my head will roll.

“Dozo o suwari nasai! (Please sit down.)” I must make themfeel that I have everything under control. This is the firsttime that I think of being too young to demonstrate au-thority, but what else can I do?

“Tabako hoshi desu ka? (I offer them cigarettes.)” Okay,let’s get down to serious business. I’m building up couragewithin myself. “Heitai san! (Fellow soldiers!) I am here tobring you a message from General Holland ‘Mad’ Smith,the Shogun in charge of the Marianas Operation.

“General Smith admires your valor and has ordered ourtroops to offer a safe haven to all the survivors of yourintrepid Gyokusai attack yesterday. Such a glorious and cou-rageous military action will go down in history. The Gen-eral assures you that you will be taken to Hawaii whereyou will be kept together in comfortable quarters until theend of the war. The General’s word is honorable. It is hisdesire that there be no more useless bloodshed.”

The Japs didn’t know General Smith from General PanchoVilla. But they respected the word “Shogun.” “Heitai san,

Amerika no Kaigun no Kampo de anata tachi minna korusukoto ga dekimas. (The American Navy with its firepowercan kill all of you.)” I point to the hundreds of ships offshore. I am making headway. They mumble among them-selves, but the very fact that they came to talk with meshows a breakthrough. They could have easily shot me frombehind the rocks on the edge of the cliffs.

I believe that at this very momentmany hidden Japanese eyes areconcentrated on me. This Gen-eral Smith thing might work. Itwould be logical for them to thinkthat I’ve been sent here by thehighest authority rather than com-ing on my own.

And you cannot go much higherthan the Chief Shogun. I knowthe Japanese mind. I know howimpressed they are with names ofpeople in authority.

This scam has to work or AdiosMother. The one in charge is aChuii (First Looey). He reachesover and accepts a cigarette. A

break. They’re coming around. I try something else, the Japa-nese adage I learned in East L.A.

“Warera Nihonjin toshite hazukashii koto o shitaraikemasen.” They smile, probably at my poor pronuncia-tion. They know I am not Japanese. I look like a typicalChicano.

The Chuii asks me if we have a well-equipped hospital atour headquarters. Madre mia, they are going to buy my propo-sition. I tell him, “Tabemono, nomimono, chiryo oagemasho, Amerika Oisha takusan orimasu. Anata no heitaiga kegashita ka? (We have fine, well equipped doctors – doyou have many wounded?)”

The Chuii gazes at the ships just a few hundred feet off thecliffs. He has to know that to resist is sure death for all, meincluded. I can see that this guy does not want to die or hewould have done himself in last night during the Gyokusaiattack.

“So da yo! Horyo ni naru! (So be it! I become your pris-oner!)” My thought was, “Guy, you short-ass bastard, youdid it!”

A family of Japanese civilians is discovered hiding in a caveby United States Marines. The civilians had been bom-

barded with propaganda by the Japanese military, convinc-ing them that they would be subjected to inhuman

treatment if captured by the Americans.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 9

The Chuii leaves four men with me and takes the rest ofhis troops over the cliffs. It looks good, but until I see it Iwon’t believe it.

If I can pull this off it will be the first time in World War IIthat a lone Marine Private captures half a Japanese regi-ment by himself. We wait and wait. In the meantime I carryon a conversation with “my prisoners.”

We talk of their families, where they are from, and so on. Itell them about having lived with Japanese Americans inCalifornia and my love for my foster family. I tell them mybelief that we, the common soldiers, obey orders and inreality have nothing to do with starting wars. They agree.They like my American cigarettes and the chow in my K-rations.

In less than an hour we havevisitors. The Chuii and overfifty men come up over thecliffs. My heart is in mythroat. This is the first timein the campaign that I do nothave the drop on the enemy.They all sit in front of me.They do not look like de-feated men. They are proudand serious – as if theyhaven’t really made up theirminds.

The best thing for me to do is to show self-assurance in mydemeanor. The Chuii tells me that there are many hundredsof people down below, some wounded, some are civilians.He wants medicine for the wounded. It looks like I’m notout of the woods yet. I show him my sulfa powder and tellhim that there is much more medicine at our CommandPost. I remember that “a wounded Jap is a dangerous Jap.”

I tell him to bring everyone up to the flat area and we willbegin moving back to Garapan, then to Chalan Kanoa. Hewants water and medicine, right now, for those in dire need.“Be patient, I give you my word that once you have allyour people here I will make contact with my troops.”

They start coming up. The lines up the trails seem endless.My God, how many are there? I might as well throw mycarbine and sidearm away. If they rush me, sayonara!

But they seem to know that they are surrendering. They alllook for someone in authority. Perhaps they thought thatthere would be hundreds of American troops here. I begingiving orders, separating the civilians from the military andgetting the wounded in one area.

I’m all over the place. There are so many wounded, someseriously, but they have a lot of fight left in them. Some ofthe younger military want to continue fighting, but the ma-jority would like to give me a chance to come through withmy promises. I need help right now or we will have to fightthis group, ending up with hundreds dead on each side.

The situation is getting somewhat shaky. The enemy is get-ting nervous. They want food and water and medical care.If it is not forthcoming it is a sure thing that they will killme and go back to their caves.

One of the Japanese soldierscalls me, “Heitai-san,Minasai. Asoko ni Amerikaheitai ga imasu. (Marine-San, look at the Americansoldiers!)” A few Marines ona hill have seen us.

They seem to be bewilderedat this scenario. I have oneof my “prisoners” wave askivie shirt on a stick. Theysee it and I can see them get-

ting in their Jeep. Other Marines on foot come running downthe hill.

I tell them: “Get some of the seriously wounded, take tosick-bay, and get me some help immediately, or we’re gonnahave these guys rebelling.”

I was so damn busy trying to get a semblance of order Ican’t remember how long it took help to arrive, but I re-member hundreds of Marines arriving on the scene.

“My God, it’s over. I did it!” It was 2200 hours before wehad the last prisoner back to the stockade. They didn’t haveroom for such a large number all at once. I remember themshuffling the POW’s around.

I grabbed a K-ration, devoured it, laid down on a blanketand passed out. Man, did I ever sleep what was left of thatnight.

Guy Gabaldon (left) with Japanese POWs at a camp on Saipan

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 10

Up and at em bright and early the next morning. It seemedlike a dream – did I really get all those prisoners? It ap-peared to be a whole division of Japs. Well, it looks like wewon this battle.

Lt. High says, “Guy you did it! Over 800, and there arehundreds of Marine witnesses! Can you imagine the intelli-gence info we’ll get from this bunch? It will certainly helpus in the coming Tinian Campaign.” Lt. High was elated atthe number of prisoners I had taken. He had a lot of workcut out for him with this bunch. I am grateful that Lt. Highappeared on the TV program, “This Is Your Life,” with memany years later.

“We all saw, and were amazed beyond belief, when Guybrought in over 800 prisoners. It madeus mighty proud of him. Yes, I was awitness to this exploit of Gabby’s.”These statements made by so many of-ficers and men have given me a greatdeal for which to be thankful.

At times during the campaign someonewould mention that I’d get some kindof medal for one caper or another, butthis was the first time that the “BigOne” was mentioned. Hurley had heardthat Captain Schwabe and Lt. High wererecommending me for the Medal ofHonor. I told Hurley I’ll believe it whenI see it.

He said, “Guy, you got over 800 yes-terday. More prisoners than have beentaken in all the previous battles in thePacific, 800 mean bastards who were ready to fight. Someof them had killed a lot of Americans the night before.These are fighting sonsabitches you captured. God onlyknows how many Marines you have kept from getting killed.Tell me Guy, just how did you do it – ‘surround’ themagain?”

“Enough of this stuff. Let’s ask Captain Schwabe to get usa jeep and get our asses back to Marpi Point. There are stilla lot of Japs hidden in the caves. We can make our last bighaul.”

At Marpi Point we see a bunch of Marines off to the right,near the Banadero Trail side, but we take off towards theocean cliffs. We park the jeep and walk about a half-mile tothe edge of the cliffs. “Hey, look at what’s coming up the

cliff. Two gals. What do you make of it, Guy?” The womensee us and begin waving. I tell them to continue coming up.

“Watch these gals, Hurley. I don’t trust any of these people!You know what those women did at Tanapag a couple ofdays ago. These gals are just as dangerous as the men. Keepyour seeing eyeballs on them. If you spot any grenades tiedto their belts, shoot them.” As they reach the edge of thecliffs one of them shouts, “Chosen saram! Chosen saram!”

“They are speaking in Korean. They’ll do that to impressyou that they are not Japanese. Grab one and I’ll get theother. Lets pull them over the cliff, but be ready for a fastmove.” I know that all the Koreans speak Japanese so Iask, “Anata wa Chosenjin ka? (Are you Korean?)”

“Hai, hai. So desu.”

She says: “Tasukete kudasia. Nihonjinja nai desu. Futari Chosenjin.” I tellHurley: “She says that they’re both Ko-rean. Yeah, they look it.” We get themover the edge and take them about fiftyfeet from the cliff.

I immediately commence interrogatingthem. Her name is Cheuni and friendis Pokushini. Korean names, and verypretty gals.

“How many more are there down there?Are there any military personnel?” Shetells us that there are about one hun-dred people in two caves. Military andcivilian mixed.

“Please help the Koreans. Help us,” she begs. I tell her:“Sure, you are Korean, but how about the soldiers downthere? Are they going to come out fighting? You go backand tell ‘em that the prisoners I took yesterday are nowsafe and sound. Tell ‘em we don’t mistreat prisoners.”

Pokushini stays with me and Hurley while Cheuni goes backdown the cliff. Either she’s got guts or it’s a ruse to get usoff guard.

“C’mon Hurley, let’s get behind these rocks till they comeover the cliff.” We wait about twenty minutes when herethey come.

Guy Gabaldon in a civilian POW camp onSaipan

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 11

“See those young guys. They’re military. You can tell bytheir demeanor. They stand out among the civilians. Yougo around behind the group and I’ll be at a right angle toyou.” I call Cheuni-san, “Cheuni-san, koko ni kinasai.” Icall Cheuni and tell her that I want the Koreans and Japa-nese in two groups. She’s real gung-ho, running all aroundthe place telling the people what to do, as if she is my as-sistant. There are forty-three in all. She stays near the olderguy I had pegged as a soldier. He seems to be in his earlythirties. She tells me that he is her husband and that he isalso Korean. I smile. She is obviously afraid that I will killhim if I know that he is a soldier. I tell him, “Anata waChosenjin ja nai, ne? Nippon heitai desho! (You’re notKorean. You’re a Japanese soldier!)”

“Hai, Nippon heitai desu!(Yes I’m a Japanese sol-dier)” he said, proudly.“No problem. Never fear!You will be treated withdignity.” Cheuni wasscared to death that I wasgoing to shoot her stud.

It was about one hourlater that help arrived.“Ok men, get these peopleto the stockade. Turnthem over to Lt. JamesHigh at R-2 for interroga-tion.”

“C’mon Hurley let’s try thecliffs a little north of here.” We can see quite a few Japa-nese below. An old man and woman are trying to hide be-hind some coral. “Ojii-san, dozo, koko ni kinasai. Shimpaishinade. Tabemono chiryo mo agemasho.”

I try talking them into coming up the cliff. The spot theypicked as a hiding place is completely exposed to us. Oneblast from my carbine and they’re history.

I see the old man’s hand reach out from behind the rocks.He’s about to get a grenade. He’s about to commit murder-suicide.

“Don’t do it. I assure you that you will not be harmed. Wewill not mistreat you or your wife. Please do not do any-thing rash!” He pulls his arm back behind the rock and Ihear the “click” peculiar to the Japanese grenades, whenthey hit the detonators against a rock. “Damn, he’s done it.

Too late to help him now.” The grenade goes off right be-tween the old man and his wife and blows their guts allover the coral rocks. Blood and tripe everywhere. “Whywouldn’t he listen to me? Why do they believe the b.s. pro-paganda they’re fed? Two old people who probably didn’teven know who started the war, nor why.”

We join a group of Marines firing down at some die-hardsoldiers where the cliffs round out and give a view of theentrance to the caves. Suddenly a woman jumps up fromthe high grass and starts to run for the cliff. I shout at her,begging her not to kill herself and the baby in her arms.

I’m pleading, trying to assure her, but she is determined.She does not slow down one iota so I lift my carbine and

aim for her legs. “Don’t doit, Guy,” shouts MajorOwens. “We can’t kill adefenseless woman.”

“Sir, please let me shoother in the legs. She’s gonnakill that baby.” Too late!She tosses the baby off,then she looks at me andjumps down to the rocks.

The sorry part of all this isthat they do not die imme-diately. They lay there,bodies broken, moaning inthe hot tropical sun. Whata waste!

Today a monument stands at “Banzai Cliff.” But that isnot where the Japanese committed suicide. The monumentwas built one hundred yards north of the cliff from whichthey jumped. To jump off at the monument site is like div-ing into a swimming hole.

Here’s another case of the fickle finger of fate – a combatcameraman was shooting my way while I was yelling atthat woman. Millions of Americans have seen this shot inthe official Navy documentaries, Battle of The Marianas, Vic-tory at Sea, and The Pacific War. It is always amazing to me tosee myself as an eighteen-year-old Marine actually killingthe enemy in combat, under fire. The scene shows me toss-ing a grenade into a Jap infested cave. It shows me pullingthe pin and tossing the grenade. When looking close at thisfilm you can see my watch fly off my left wrist as I pull thepin. Good thing I had more Jap watches.

Korean women were pressed into prostitution by the Japanese military. Someestimates put the number of “comfort women” forced to service Japanese

soldiers at up to 20,000. These women consisted of Koreans, Chinese,Vietnamese, Taiwanese, and native Japanese. Here, liberated women entertain

U.S. troops following the battle.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 12

Many Japs, both military and civilians, committed suicidein the next few days. It was sad to see children strugglingwith their parents pleading not to be thrown off the cliffs –“Please father, do not kill me! I do not want to die!”

These parents were dangerous, desperate people whowanted nothing more than to kill the “American savages”who they thought would roast and eat their children.

“Hurley, look at all those people lined up at the edge of thecliff ! They’re jumping off by the numbers. My God, man,we’ve got to stop them. Let’s go.” This particular groupwas about two hundred yards away from us. I shouted atthem as we ran.

“Tomare, tomare – seppuku shinade.Komodo korosanaide. Dozo,korosanaide!” I’m begging them tostop killing their children. But I cansee that as we approach they jumpoff in greater numbers. “Hurley stop.If we get any closer they’ll all jumpoff. I’ll try talking to them again.”

As we stop we can see four childrenthrown off. They were pleading withtheir parents not to kill them. It seemsthat the children had more faith inus than did their parents.

There were about fifty in that group– it seems that there are about tenleft. One who apparently is a leaderis yelling at the rest. I can’t make out what he’s saying butit is obvious that he’s telling them not to surrender. Thepeople look down at the rocks below and see their friendsmoaning down there. Just about then one of them grabs aninfant and tosses him off. That seems to have been a signalbecause they all start jumping off. In a couple of minutesit’s all over. The whole bunch lies down below either deador dying.

The Marine medics are called “Corpsmen.” These are someof the most courageous men in the history of the MarineCorps. Many, many times, while under intense fire thesemen have gone after wounded Marines, often losing theirown lives trying to save another. One such Corpsman is aguy named Waters, I believe he won the Navy Cross inTarawa – one of the bloodiest and most intense battles inMarine Corps history.

It was at Marpi Point one day that Waters said, “Hey Guy,how about going with you on one of your lone wolf pa-trols?”

“You crazy man? You’ve proven yourself not only atTarawa, but also here. Why do you want to expose your-self unnecessarily? I’d rather work alone, anyway.”

“C’mon Guy, I want to see how you operate.”

“Alright let’s go. I’m going to the bottom of the cliffs justnorth of where the Japs have been committing suicide. Ihave no idea what I’m going to bump into down there.

You’d better think twice before go-ing.”

Waters and I go to a place that is nearwhat is known today at “The Grotto”– a famous tourist diving spot.

We cautiously go down this cliff andwhen we reach bottom we see freshgarbage. “They are here,” I tell Wa-ters. “Be extremely quiet.”

Just then we see an indentation in theface of the bottom of the cliff. Thereare three people there – a Jap soldierand two elderly people who seem tobe Koreans. Waters and I hit thedeck, but fast. “Ano ne, te o agete,kokoni kinasai Haiyaku.”

“Hey Waters, that son of a bitch is holding that old coupleas hostages. Did you see him duck behind them? They seemto be scared to death. I’ll roll over to the right a few feetand you go to the left. That way the soldier will be exposedto you. Shoot the bastard as soon as you get a clear shot athim. If he moves to the right I’ll shoot him.”

Waters gets a clear view of the soldier, but he does notshoot. “Hey Waters, shoot the son of a bitch – hurry upand shoot him.”

Waters says, “I can’t, Guy, all he’s got is a saber.”

I tell him, “Waters, we’re in Jap territory. We can’t wastetime with this joker. He’s holding the old couple and wecan’t help them unless we do this guy in.” I can see thatWaters finds it very difficult to kill someone who can’t fire

An American soldier saves a tiny Japanese baby afterits family committed suicide. The infant, found

covered in dirt, was rushed to a hospital in a jeep. Itwas too late for the rest of the family, who believing

Japanese propaganda, needlessly died.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 13

back, even though the Jap will kill this old couple and thenext unsuspecting Marine who comes along.

I roll over to where Waters is lying and tell him to get overto our right. I level off at the Jap soldier and put a round inhis left ear. Waters gets the old couple and heads for therabbit trail up the cliff.

“Get them up there fast beforewe’re picked off from the othercaves.”

I must say that Waters is oneof the most valiant Marines Ihave met, and he certainly hadgreat compassion for an un-armed enemy. I admire him forhis guts and for his consider-ation of an enemy soldier with-out a rifle.

As we get to the top there are about five Marines therewith two Jap prisoners. “Hey Guy check these two Japsout.” They are sitting there looking very glum. I start toquestion them when a Marine hollers, “Hit the deck!”

A lone Jap had just climbed upover the cliff. He obviously hadbeen right behind Waters and me.If we had not killed that Jap sol-dier we would be laying downthere full of holes.

The Jap stands there near the edgeof the cliff. He has thrown his rifledown but has several grenades onhis belt. He reaches down for agrenade and I yell: “Te o agete!(Get your hands up!)” He raiseshis hands then suddenly reachesdown again. I let go a few roundsand the Jap blows up. I must havehit one of his grenades.

Everyone is surprised, including me – this guy’s guts fly allover the place and a piece of his frag grenade hits me in theright hand across my index finger. I can consider myselfextremely fortunate in as much the Jap grenades usuallycome apart in large pieces.

When you get hit by a Jap frag you usually end up with a bighole somewhere in your body. This one just grazed me.Bleeding like a stuck pig, but I bled more from taking oneon the nose in the ghetto. My Purple Heart will come frommore serious wounds later.

The two prisoners who been sitting suddenly start runningfor the edge of the cliff – I order them to halt: “Tomare,

korosanaida! (Halt, I don’twant to have to kill you! Stop,you’ll never make it!”

Just before they get to the edgeI shoot them – fifteen roundsinto both of these stupid bas-tards. They would have beenok. No one was about to harmthem – they would have goneto the stockade in Susupe Vil-lage, and sit out the rest of thewar. Now they are in Valhalla

with the others I had dispatched.

I’m glad that we’re at the north end of the island. In a coupleof days we’ll have the place secured. That will not mean

the end of all hostilities here onSaipan. We know that there willbe Jap stragglers for some time tocome, but at least we can take ourtime hunting them down.

However, Tinian is still to come.Who knows what waits for usthere? Even with the daily shell-ing from Saipan there are boundto be many Jap troops waiting todie for their Emperor.

Guy Gabaldon was awarded the NavyCross for his service on Saipan. Therecord is currently being reviewed by theDepartment of Defense for possible up-grading to the Medal of Honor. He was

the recipient of the World War II Veterans Committee’s Lewis B.“Chesty” Puller Award for 2005.

This article was adapted from Guy Gabaldon’smemoir, Saipan: Suicide Island.

WWII

Jeffrey Hunter, Guy Gabaldon, and David Janssen on the set ofHell to Eternity. Hunter starred in the role of Gabaldon.

Guy Gabaldon is presented with the World War IIVeterans Committee’s Lewis B. “Chesty” Puller Award in

2005 for his amazing feats on the island of Saipan.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 14

Often the most momentous events start in the wee hourswhen every one but the watch standers are asleep. So itwas aboard the United States Submarine Barb, at 0300 on16 September 1944 when ourradioman decoded an urgent messageordering us to proceed immediately atour best speed to the scene of a majortragedy 450 miles away.

Thirteen-hundred and fifty Allied pris-oners of war, crowded into the hold ofa torpedoed Japanese freighter, theRakuyo Maru, were suddenly in the wa-ter struggling to stay afloat after aban-doning their sinking ship. These men,survivors of the hellish brutality ofworking on the Burma railroad, werebeing transported from Singapore to Ja-pan as prison laborers, and had been inthe water for four days when they werediscovered, and a rescue attempted.

This was a sudden change in mission for the USS Barb. Shehad left Pearl Harbor six weeks earlier with two other sub-marines, Queenfish and Tunny, as a wolf-pack commandedby Captain Edward Swinburne, USN, assigned to sink Japa-nese shipping in the South China sea. Barb was at the peakof her fighting efficiency. Only two years old, she still hadmany of her hand-picked commissioning crew on board,and was on her 9th war patrol. Her aggressive and skillfulcaptain, red-headed Lieutenant Commander EugeneFluckey, was already called by the crew on the mess deck“Lucky Fluckey” after only five months in command.

The past three weeks had been a blur of attack and escape.Barb had torpedoed and sunk a freighter and damaged atanker so badly that she was eventually run ashore to avoidsinking and did not survive the war. Unsuccessfully at-tacking two destroyers, Barb was lucky to escape after asevere depth charging. She sank a trawler by gunfire. Sight-

ing what appeared to be a small freighter with two escorts,Barb took a chance on making a submerged periscope at-tack with nearly depleted batteries, sank it with a well aimed

torpedo amidships, and then discov-ered it was a heavily armed anti-sub-marine decoy ship with five sub-chaserescorts hiding nearby. Diving to herabsolutely maximum safe depth, Barbwas able to creep out from under a bar-rage of over two hundred depthcharges, surface about five miles away,and escape on two engines while des-perately charging batteries with theother two.

Forced to dive by enemy aircraft, Barbwatched helplessly while Tunny, nearbyon the surface, was bombed as she at-tempted to escape by diving. Tunnybarely survived this attack, and had to

return to port with serious hull and torpedo tube damage.It was obvious by now that Japanese bombers were using anew tactic. Equipped with radar, they could attack by dayor night, and Barb’s preferred method of searching for tar-gets while running on the surface was becoming very dan-gerous.

Anticipating this likelihood on the way to our patrol area,we had practiced the risky procedure of diving fast by driv-ing the ship under at high speed with full dive set on thebow diving planes. On one of these drills, the bow planesjammed on full dive. “Blow main ballast, all stop, all backemergency!” ordered the diving officer as the boat headedfor the bottom with a 30 degree down angle. The pettyofficer at the main ballast manifold slipped on the steepdeck, and fell to the end of the control room before hecould empty the ballast tanks with high-pressure air. RussellElliman, our quick thinking baker, saw this happen, jumpedout of the galley into the control room, grabbed the valve

A Dramatic Rescue in theSouth China Sea

By RADM Robert W. McNitt, USN-Ret

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 15

handles, spun open the ballast tank blow valves, and savedthe ship.

A day after the Tunny episode, we were surprised by abomber that flew over, circled, and dropped four bombs onthe next pass, as we set a new record for diving fast. Thiswas a very close escape for us. The tail fins of one bombwere found wrapped around the mooring bitts on the for-ward deck. If it had hit a few feet further aft, that bombwould haveblown a hole inthe pressure hulland sunk the ship.

The next night wewere bombedagain. I was onthe bridge and fol-lowed the twolookouts and theofficer of thedeck in the dashto the conningtower hatch. Zip-ping up myjacket, I caughtmy beard in thezipper, holdingmy head in abowed positionas I rode the railsof the ladder,dropping downinto the conningtower without us-ing the steps, butbanging my headon each step on the way down. The explosions came as wepassed 200 feet in a hard evasive turn, resulting in cablegland leaks and a lot of shattered glass, but no serious dam-age. It was the last time I wore a beard for a long, longtime.

Now with these new orders, Barb and Queenfish were off ona different mission. The first decision needed was whatcourse to take. By the time we could arrive, the survivorswould have been drifting in the water for six days. Wherewould we find them? Fortunately, we had at hand a set ofguidelines written by a Coast Guard officer for estimatingthe cumulative effect of wind, waves, current, and coriolis

(Earth’s rotation) forces on a drifting object. Plotting thesevectors, we set off on the surface at our best four-enginespeed of almost 20 knots.

There was an interruption, however, the night before ourarrival. Queenfish, well ahead, reported a radar contact on aconvoy, and took position to attack from the port side asBarb worked into position for attack from starboard.Queenfish fired her last four torpedoes, getting one hit that

damaged a shipand alerted theconvoy.

Barb, making herapproach on thesurface betweentwo escorts,aimed at the lasttanker in the star-board column.Suddenly recog-nizing that thelarge ship in thecenter columnwas an aircraftcarrier, GeneFluckey spreadhis six bow tubetorpedoes tocover both ships,and fired all six,while diving toescape a frigateheading for us athigh speed, only700 yards away.The tanker Azura

Maru with a cargo of 100,000 barrels of aviation gasoline,blew up and sank. The aircraft carrier Unyo with 48 planesand 1,000 crew and passengers was hit by three torpedoesand sank six hours later. Barb and Queenfish both enduredheavy depth charging, escaped, and surfaced after an hourto continue on their mission of mercy.

By mid-morning we arrived in the area where we hoped tofind survivors. Our two submarines formed a scouting lineabout four miles apart. The weather was rapidly turningnasty with a falling barometer and gusts of gale force winds.The ship was organized for rescue by our Chief of the Boat,Chief Gunner’s Mate Paul (Swish) Saunders. Lookouts were

The USS Barb—one of the most legendary subs of World War II. Its crew was responsible forthe only ground attack on mainland Japan during entire war, when a landing party snuck ashore

to destroy a troop-train by planting charges under the tracks. On an earlier patrol, the Barb locateda Japanese convoy of over 30 ships seeking shelter in Namkwan Harbor, along the coast of

China. The sub’s skipper, Eugene B. Fluckey, gave the order to attack, and the Barb unloaded tentubes on the enemy ships, scoring eight direct hits. The Barb then raced through heavily mined

waters back to the open sea, and safety.

The USS Barb sank more enemy tonnage than any other U.S. submarine during World War II.For his action at Namkwan Harbor, Eugene B. Fluckey was awarded the Medal of Honor. He

also received four Navy Crosses—a feat unequaled by any other living American. Robert W.McNitt was decorated with two Silver Stars and the Navy and Marine Corps Medal. Theirexceptional service aboard the USS Barb is unequaled in all of United States Navy history.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 16

scanning the horizon with binoculars. Crewmen trained byChief Pharmacist’s Mate William Donnelly as nurses wereready to receive patients in the crew’s mess. The emptytorpedo skids in both torpedo rooms had been convertedinto bunks, and the cooks and bakers were prepared to feeddouble the number of crew.

At first, all we saw werehorribly bloated bodiesfloating face down in therising seas. Shortly afternoon, alert lookoutTorpedoman First ClassCharles Tomczyk spottedthe first of two rafts thatappeared to have survi-vors hanging on as thewaves tossed them about.I was out on the foredeckwith a rescue party madeup of our strongest volun-teers, ready to hoist theseterribly debilitated menout of the sea. Lt. EverettP. (Tuck) Weaver, the Of-ficer of the Deck, skillfullybrought Barb alongside thefirst raft and lines weretossed with bowlines tiedinto the ends, but thesemen, like those we foundlater, were too far gone to understand what we wanted themto do. The only way to get them aboard was to swim outand get them.

This four of us did, each with a couple of lines to tow usback, carrying a weak and nearly unconscious man in a crosschest carry, with eager shipmates on deck and in the wateralongside to lift them up over the rough rounded hull ofthe submarine onto the deck grating where most faintedand collapsed. A line of sailors carried them down the gunplatform, handed them through the access door, and gentlylowered them down the hatch to be carried to the messtables. There, the oil soaked bodies were cleaned, woundsdressed, and a few teaspoons of sugar water administered.Over the next four hours we found and rescued fourteenAustralian and British men, and Queenfish eighteen. By lateafternoon a typhoon was upon us with torrents of rain, galeforce winds, and huge seas.

Hoping against hope to find another one or two survivors,we remained on the surface searching in the dark with apowerful light, rolling and pitching violently as twenty-footseas washed over the bridge. The search continued mostof the next day in 60-knot winds and gale driven high seaswith no success. No one could have survived this storm.Sadly we gave up the search and headed for Saipan to off-

load grateful survivorswho were rapidly recover-ing from their horrible or-deal with the help of sleep,food, and the cheerful at-tention of the Barb crew.

The irrepressible spirit ofthese men was expressedby Jack Flynn, an Austra-lian soldier who had heardstories about the hospi-table welcome Americanservicemen had found inAustralia. When he cameto while being treateddown below, he lookedup, smiled, and said, “I’mgoing to write the old lady,and tell her to kick theYank out. I’m cominghome!” This commentfrom a man who wouldhave been dead in a few

hours if we had not found him, endeared him to our crew.It also made every moment, every risk, and every sacrificeof this dramatic rescue in the South China Sea seem sovery worthwhile.

This story was written by Rear Admiral Robert W. McNitt USN(RET) in 2006. It is based on his own recollection of these eventswhile he was serving as executive officer (second in command) andnavigator of the USS Barb, cross-checked for accuracy with RearAdmiral Eugene B. Fluckey USN (RET) Thunder Below Ur-bana and Chicago, University of Illinois Press, 1992, and TheodoreRoscoe, United States Submarine Operations in World WarII, Annapolis, MD, Naval Institute Press 1949.

Eugene B. Fluckey and Robert W. McNitt were awarded the 2005Chester Nimitz Award by the World War II Veterans Committee.

WWII

The crew of the USS Barb rescues Allied survivors of the sinking ofJapanese freighter Rakuyo Maru, who had been drifting for six days. Therescue party, led by LCDR R.W. McNitt (facing camera), is rigging lines torescue men in the water. Back to camera is Motor Machinist Mate Second

Class Traville Houston, a strong swimmer and diver. These two, along withLt. James G. Lanier USNR and Chief Gunners Mate Paul G. Saunders, swam

out to rafts to bring back terribly debilitated survivors.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 17

In Their Own WordsBooks Authored by World War II Veterans

Books written about World War II are becoming more and more popular, as the public seeks to learn more of the heroismdisplayed by our men and women who served. While the works of authors and historians are valuable and entertaining, agreat untapped source of history resides in the stories of the veterans themselves. A large number of veterans have writtenbooks on their own experiences, with many being published. World War II Chronicles is proud to showcase excerpts ofbooks written by veterans of World War II. To submit a book to be highlighted in “In Their Own Words,” please mail to:

World War II ChroniclesAttn: Editor

1030 15th St., NW Suite 856Washington, DC 20005

“Someday years from now, when a dinner partner of mine looks at me withthat stop-boring-me look, I’ll pull the rabbit out of my hat. I will tell herhow I watched Goering, Hess, and Jodl squirm and make faces during theNuremberg trials,” wrote Herman J. Obermayer on the day he watched pros-ecutors present the first documentary evidence that the Nazis had killed sixmillion Jews. This first hand account, written by one ofthe last remaining eyewitnesses to the Nuremberg trials,along with hundreds of letters Mr. Obermayer sent hometo his parents during World War II, can be found in hisnew book, Soldiering for Freedom.

A retired journalist, editor-publisher, and former PulitzerPrize juror, Herman J. Obermayer’s Soldiering forFreedom contains letters and recollections from the timehe was drafted as a young student at Dartmouth Col-lege through basic training and his eventual experiencein the European campaign. Each chapter begins withpresent day commentary on the lessons America learnedsix decades ago, offering a unique perspective on today’sgreat political and social questions. In this issue, wefeature a segment from “Chapter 6: Waging War Against theFrench,” in which Mr. Obermayer provides a glimpseinto the internal conflict between the U.S. soldiers, whosaw themselves as liberators in a just cause, and the French citizens, whooftentimes resented the American presence.

Soldiering for FreedomBy Herman J. Obermayer

From Chapter 6: Waging War Against the French

Petroleum products represented roughly half of the tonnage car-ried to Europe to supply American troops in World War II. Shortlyafter D-Day, military engineers begin constructing an above-ground gasoline pipeline to guarantee a reliable, steady flow toAllied armies. Tankers offloaded at a floating dock at the AtlanticOcean port of Cherbourg. The pipeline’s final decanting termi-nal constantly moved eastward as American and British forcesadvanced toward Hitler’s Third Reich. It crossed the Rhine River

on the first pontoon bridge shortly after the Corps of Engineerscompleted its construction. The U.S. Army’s gasoline pipelinewas one of its most vital war facilities—and it was regularly sabo-taged by the French.

As a member of a pipeline pumping-stationcrew, I observed firsthand how effectivelyFrench saboteurs, both amateur and profes-sional, slowed the forward progress ofAmerica’s armies. My comrades and I watchedthe Meuse-Argonne region’s peasant farmershamper the operations of one of the mightiestfighting machines ever assembled. From ourperspective, they were “the enemy.”

The pipeline’s above-ground construction madeit a tempting target for both Nazi agents andpetty crooks. Stealing gasoline was easy. Theonly tools required were a small monkey wrenchand a butter knife. Breaks happened almost daily,sometimes several times a day. Almost all ofthe major ruptures occurred after a Frenchman

failed to properly close a coupling he had loosened to steal “alittle essence.” (“Essence” is the French word for “gasoline.”)Crooks and saboteurs had the same ruse; they needed a few gal-lons for an essential tractor. Still, virtually all of the soldiers whowere assigned to pipeline duty believed most of the French peas-ants were Nazi sympathizers, or, at best, black marketers whodid not care that their stealing hurt America’s war effort. Wedespised them. And the dislike was mutual. Most of the pipeline’sneighbors appeared to prefer the Germans to us.

Pipeline breaks were a serious problem. Several times in the courseof the war gasoline shortages halted major troop movements. Atotal rupture often meant a loss of ten thousand gallons and theshutdown of pumping operations for at least an hour. Many ofthe breaks created gasoline geysers. A lighted cigarette near ageyser could (and did) set homes ablaze and kill innocent people.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 18

Medics, like me, were assigned to pipeline companies because ofthe fire danger. There were many serious fires along the pipeline’sroute, but to my knowledge, none of them was ever reported inthe American press.

The importance of petroleum distribution in World War II isdiscussed in more than a dozen official Department of Defensedocuments available at the Library of Congress, National Ar-chives, and the Center for Military History in Washington. How-ever, gasoline is usually treated as just another commodity—albeita very important one—in a vast, complex, worldwide militarysupply system. While military historians agree that pipelines laidon top of the ground are vulnerable to sabotage, there is almostno literature on control procedures other thansurveillance.

Extensive research over several years confirmsthat this is probably the first published com-mentary on how French sabotage curtailedthe U.S. Army’s efforts to get gasoline to itscombat troops in a timely manner. The factthat this important story has remained un-told for six decades is partially attributable toWorld War II military censorship and par-tially to the dynamics of journalism. Pipelinesoldiers were not allowed to reveal in lettershome their location, their work routines, orthe names of their comrades. Since disman-tling began a few days after V-E Day, thedetails of pipeline operations were “ancienthistory” by the time censorship restrictions were lifted.

War correspondents considered supply services stories dull. Atbest, coverage was superficial and irregular. The only EuropeanTheater pipeline story that received extensive newspaper cover-age was the disclosure shortly after V-E Day that the United Stateshad placed a flexible pipeline under the English Channel. Al-though we did not know it, some of the gasoline we movedacross central France was off-loaded from tankers in England.Oil-industry trade journals, particularly the weekly National Petro-leum News, assigned reporters to cover petroleum’s role in win-ning the war. However, they covered the entire industry fromdomestic finance, drilling, and refining to the availability of shipdockage, tanker airplanes, rail depots, decanting centers, storagefacilities, and construction operations in Europe. The Cherbourg-to-the-Rhine pipeline was only a part of the oil-industry story.

When it was running at full capacity, more than half a milliongallons a day moved through the pipeline. Pumping stations wereset up ten to thirty miles apart, depending on the terrain and theproximity of population centers. I worked at a pumping stationin the Meuse-Argonne region near Verdun, France, a city of twentythousand, made famous as the site of World War I’s costliest

battle, in which seven hundred thousand soldiers were killed orwounded. Most of the pipeline was laid a few feet from the RedBall Highway, the main supply route connecting France’s Atlanticports to General Patton’s Third Army. This made most of thepipeline’s route easy to construct and patrol.

Almost all of the sabotage occurred along detours away fromthe Red Ball Highway. The line was rerouted in the Meuse-Argonne region to avoid both the city of Verdun and the majorammunition depot located nearby. Pipelines do not rupture natu-rally. Only human hands can loosen steel couplings and moverubber gaskets. Often when we patrolled the pipeline we wouldnotice a local peasant tinkering with a coupling. When our patrol

came along, he usually fled but almost alwaysleft behind a partially closed coupling, whichour station crew promptly closed. If he fledbefore we saw where he was working, some-time within the next few hours or days an“unexplained” break would occur.

The pipeline crew’s frustration extended be-yond anger with our French neighbors whowere helping the Nazis. We also resented thefact that we could do nothing about their sub-version. We knew who the regular culpritswere. Certain peasants in nearby villages bra-zenly sold pilfered gasoline. Black marketsoperated openly. French locals knew that noone was ever arrested or punished for pipe-line tampering or trafficking in petroleum

products. We thought saboteurs should be arrested and jailed atthe very least. However, we had orders to try to get along withthe French peasants, regardless of their hostile activities. The head-quarters brass wanted it to appear that everything was goingsmoothly between the liberating U.S. Army and the French citi-zenry. The public trial of a few bigtime pipeline saboteurs whoclaimed to be simple farmers might have had serious interna-tional-relations repercussions. We, of course, did not see the bigpicture. Allowing saboteurs to operate with impunity made nosense to us.

The soldier-roustabouts at Pumping Station 53 did not knowthat France’s rampant—and unofficially sanctioned—black mar-kets were a big-time problem for Allied commanders. Gasolinewas only a small part of a vast problem involving U.S. militarysupplies and French ethics. The trouble was rarely, if ever, cov-ered in our only news source, the irregularly delivered Stars andStripes. On the home front, the New York Times in March, 1945(while I was working on the pipeline), ran a major war-zone storyheadlined “Black Markets Strong in Liberated Countries.” Thearticle points out that a democratically elected government hadcollapsed in nearby Belgium because it tried to crack down onblack-market activities. It further reports that in Paris “illegal

The author in France, 1945

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 19

markets have gained such standing that they flourish under theeyes of bored gendarmes.”

The pipeline crew’s dislike of their French neighbors was exacer-bated by what they viewed as a double standard of justice. If anAmerican GI was caught stealing from a local shop, he was rou-tinely disciplined or even court-martialed, if an item of great valuewas involved (though the latter rarely occurred). At the sametime, when the French stole large amounts of vital war matérielof strategic, as well as monetary value, it was “policy” to pretendthe stealing did not happen. Although the geography and culturesare different, the problems of controlling theft and looting inAfghanistan and Iraq are similar. The U.S. Army has no difficultydisciplining its own troops, but it has big problems stopping thiev-ery by “liberated” peoples.

The bitter, tense relationship be-tween the local peasants and theAmerican GIs at a small outpost inrural France reflected ambivalenceat the apex of political power.France’s last elected government fledin June, 1940, and the provisionaladministration that goverened thecountry was headed by an obscure,lower-echelon general namedCharles de Gaulle. That governmentgot its limited legitimacy from theAllied High Command, not fromthe French electorate. On the otherhand, the U.S. Army represented it-self as a friendly force sent to Franceto liberate an enslaved people fromtyranny. In reality, our Army conducted itself like a hostile occu-pying force. We randomly killed thousands of civilians throughartillery barrages and aerial bombings. We expropriated for ourexclusive use France’s railroads, highways, harbors, warehouses,farms, and, very importantly, hospitals.

In middle-sized cities such as Verdun, Metz, and Chalons-sur-Marne, the U.S. Army took over the only local hospital to carefor its wounded soldiers. I regularly picked up medical supplies,including substantial quantities of morphine, at the 193rd GeneralHosptial, a fully staffed military hospital that occupied the build-ings that had been Verdun’s municipal hospital. When Verdunbecame part of a U.S. combat zone, all of the French patients(except those in extremis) were summarily displaced to make wayfor battlefield casualties. As long as the war went on, virtually nohospital service was available for the region’s civilian population.As an Army medic who had access to drugs and supplies, I wasoften asked to deal with the Meuse-Argonne peasantry’s medicalproblems. Although I was embarrassed that, after four monthsof superficial, first-aid type training, truly sick people thought I

could help with their health issues—including some that were gy-necological—I freely dispensed drugs and bandages, which I couldrequisition (without limit) at the 193rd General Hospital. I helpedthe farm families who lived near Pumping Station 53, but formost of the area residents, the loss of their hospital just meantstill more pain and suffering attributable to the Americans.

In an environment without service stations, a novel petroleum-distribution system was required to transfer more than half amillion gallons of gasoline daily to individual vehicles. All of theautomotive gasoline that small trucks and jeeps used in Franceduring the war (actually, 97 percent according to National Petro-leum News) was poured by hand into the vehicles’ gas tanks fromfive-gallon jerry cans (box-shaped cans with grab handles and a

small spout). The ubiquitous jerrycans were filled at decanting stationsthat the Quartermaster Corps op-erated at regular intervals along thepipeline. In combat zones, thou-sands of jerry cans were lined upalong the roads or at special dumps.Every jeep had at least one canstrapped to its rear end so that itcould fill up when it ran low on gas.Trucks and ambulances routinelycarried several. We kept severaldozen fulls at our pumping station,so vehicles were always ready totravel long distances. In the elevenmonths between D-Day and V-Eday, more than fifteen million jerrycans arrived in France.

Most farmers’ barns contained at least half a dozen jerry cans.Since they were not for sale, they could have been obtained inonly one way. GIs routinely accepted petty stealing as part of thewar. However, interrupting the flow of vital fuel to our combattroops was different. It was not petty. It was important. Andboth the American soldiers and the French farmers knew it.

Even though the top-level brass did virtually nothing to discour-age or impede the black market in gasoline, its position on am-munition, guns, and explosives was quite different. If Nazi sym-pathizers in the area—and there were many—had gotten theirhands on a cache of ammunition or explosives, the results mighthave been disastrous. Only well-credentialed American soldierswith proper requisition documents could get inside an ammuni-tion depot. I periodically went with our truck to Verdun’sDouamont Depot. (Pumps, valves, welding equipment, and grind-ing tools were classified as the type of war materiel that shouldbe stored at an ammunition depot.) Douamont Depot operatedwith several levels of security checks, similar to today’s metro-politan airports. Located in a French military cemetery where

What remained of the famed cathedral of Rouen followingAllied bombing. Another source of the friction between

French citizens and the invading Allies was the massive, butnecessary, bombing campaign against German positions and

supply lines in France. Lacking the precision of today’ssmart-bombs, thousands of French citizens were killed in

these raids.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 20

130,000 World War I soldiers remain buried, Douamont was oneof the largest ammunition depots in Europe. Tightly fenced, itwas vast and hilly with lots of statuary and chapels, but no livinginhabitants. It was an ideal site for ammunition storage. Modernarmies do not store ammunition in urban areas, where a singlegreat explosion can start an uncontrollable fire or destroy othermilitary facilities in a chain reaction. In piles the size of railroadcars, war materiel—shells, grenades, rifles, gas masks, and carparts—were segregated by size and special features. Each itemwas at a marked location on a cemetery road.

Our peasant neighbors madeno secret of the fact that theyliked their German “occupi-ers” better than us. InJubecourt-en-Argonne, ahamlet of twenty to thirtyhomes near our pumping sta-tion, several farmers enthusi-astically explained to me howthe village had benefited fromNazi occupation. On anearby hillside the Germangovernment had built forthem prefabricated chickencoops and metal silos. Thesebare-metal farm buildingswere part of the Nazis’ plan to make Europe agriculturally self-sufficient.

In World War I, the Kaiser’s legions were primarily interested inmilitary objectives, and they ended up having to ship foodstuffsto occupied lands at great cost. Hitler’s farm-finance plannersdid not intend to repeat that mistake. Their agriculture programfor occupied lands was designed to keep conquered countrieshappy, while adding to workers’ food baskets in the “Father-land.” In the long run, French farm production was expected toplay a major role in the “Thousand Year Reich.” In the short run,the program had great propaganda value. Nazi broadcastersexplained in French that the Allies were trying to starve the peoplesof occupied Europe by harassing ships carrying food suppliesfrom neutral countries. Notwithstanding the “heartless Ameri-cans,” German largesse and ingenuity were allowing them to eatwell. The Germans envisioned France as part of a pan-Euro-pean Reich. Nazi agricultural advisors in the pipeline’s area spokefluent French and lived with the local people. They fled eastwardas the Allied armies advanced toward the Rhine, but they leftbehind friends and lovers who saw us as hostile occupiers.

The Meuse-Argonne agricultural “dictator” supplied the peasantswith seed and fertilizer. He told them when to furrow and plant,how much land to use for each crop, and when to harvest. Thepeasants thus lost their freedom of choice. However, for

Jubecourt’s humble villagers, “freedom of choice” was an irrel-evant abstraction. They admired the authoritarian system thatmade them more productive, better farmers. We Americans, onthe other hand, ruined their fields with spilled gasoline. We com-pensated them handsomely for the damage done to their land,but they had little use for money. Their lives were their farms.

On May 8, 1945, V-E Day, I contrived to pick up supplies atVerdun’s Army hospital so that I could see—and participate in—the celebration. It was a frustrating day. V-E Day meant peacefor the French, but it signified little to us. Most GIs believed that

within a few months wewould find ourselves shippedto the Pacific Theater, wherethere had been few impor-tant American victories—andenormous casualties. On V-E Day, American forces werestruggling against an en-trenched Japanese army onOkinawa. In that siege, thir-teen thousand U.S. soldiersand Marines were killed, andforty thousand werewounded. The war againstthe Japanese was “our war,”not theirs. Even the French

seemed unenthusiastic about V-E Day. There were few Frenchbattlefield victories to celebrate. The American soldiers I talkedwith at the Verdun Red Cross resented the fact that the high com-mand ordered them to participate in provincial V-E Day pa-rades. We knew that notwithstanding the heroism of a few FreeFrench Army units, France’s military contribution to Hitler’s de-feat was insignificant. We also knew that our Jubecourt neigh-bors would be happy to see the U.S. Army leave France. Rela-tions were so strained, they did not care if we went to Germany,Burma, an unknown Pacific island, or home to the UnitedStates—just so long as we left.

It is not surprising that hostility still lurks deep in the psyches ofboth young French citizens and young Americans. The successof the gasoline-pipeline system in Europe, of which GeneralEisenhower was so proud, was achieved despite constant Frenchsabotage. Every soldier who worked on the pipeline knew whythere were regular breaks, and he detested the people who wereresponsible. On the other hand, the Verdun region’s peasants didnot like their American “liberators” whom they viewed as insen-sitive foreign occupiers who befouled their farms with spilledgasoline and forced their sick relatives to leave hospital wardsprematurely.

France, March 18, 1945Dear Folks:

French citizens celebrate V-E Day. It was a bittersweet day for the AmericanGIs, however, who knew that while France’s war was over, they still had

another war to fight.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 21

It looks like I have finally gotten a permanent assignment (subject to immedi-ate change without notice). Although hardly the kind of job I expected to bedoing when I left the States, it is much more pleasant and safe than the onethat I looked forward to a few months ago. I am now living with a dozen menat a lonely gasoline pumping station on our pipeline. Although there is a littlevillage of about one hundred inhabitants near us, we are seven miles from themain road.

Not only does my job call for traveling to two of the nearby pumping stationsevery day or so and dispensing iodine, cough medicine, aspirin, etc., but I havealso been asked to give some of the same services to a few civilians in thenearby village. When some of the civilians firstcame up to our tents to try to sells us fresh eggsand beg for our garbage and leftovers, the menintroduced me as “le docteur.”

Immediately I was shown a few cuts and bruises,on which I put iodine. Today a young womancame up and asked my advice about a rash on herthigh, which she showed to about half the person-nel of this station. I am glad to help them with alittle iodine, etc., but I want them to understand(and with my limited knowledge of French, this isdifficult) that I am only a first-aid man and not adoctor before they think I ought to know some-thing about obstetrics and assist the local midwife.

France, March 30, 1945Dear Folks:What was originally page #2 of this letter mustbe left out. My censor and I do not exactly agreeon “the spirit of the law.”

A few nights past I spoke with some local French-men. Whenever they asked me where I came fromin America, I told them that I came from Phila-delphia. Not a single one had ever heard of it.(That is almost as bad as the Camp Pickett tele-phone operator who asked me, “Philadelphia,where?”) They seem to know the names of only three cities in America: NewYork, Hollywood, and Reno. (Reno was notorious in the 1930s asa quickie divorce center.)

The last one is the direct result of the very smooth propaganda that theNazis fed to the populace, which is predominantly Catholic. All of thestories that the OWI (Office of War Information, America’s pro-paganda and information agency) has produced about the sexualdepravity of the Germans have been more than matched by Dr. Goebbelsand his assistants. In the popular magazines published here during theoccupation, articles appeared regularly about the “victory girls” in the States.The Nazis wanted the French to think they are the rule, not the exception(“Victory girls” were American teenagers, usually high schoolgirls, who made a public display of seeking out GIs for sex.They urged others to join them in doing their patriotic duty.)

Somewhere in France, March 31, 1945Dear Folks:The way our officers are interpreting the censorship rules today, it is next toimpossible for me to tell you anything about myself except that I am healthyand more or less happy.

Recently a very interesting article appeared in the Saturday Evening Post,which discusses the ways in which Germany tried to make Europe self-sup-porting in agriculture. The author says that our Army is not the only onethat has a battery of economic and agricultural advisors who follow rightbehind the combat troops; the “Boches” (the name the French gave

the Nazis) did it first. You do not notice thesethings if you are hurrying or are near a largetown where there are plenty of cafés to haunt.But we are living near a very small farm village,and all you see is dilapidated old homes andbarns—not to mention the manure piles next tothe front doorstep. However, when you look outon two nearby hills you can see several barns andchicken coops that look very modern and well kept.After a little questioning you always get the sameanswer—Boches. I have walked up close to thesemodern barns. They are all made of prefabri-cated stuff. It’s a funny war.

France, April 10, 1945Dear Folks:

One of the interesting things I’ve noticed in theselittle country villages of France is the popularityof the letter V for “victory” sign made with thefore and second fingers of the right hand. Whileat home, I saw Churchill do it in the movies, butthat’s about all. When our truck rides throughthese little villages, we wave to people, and a largepercentage of them (particularly children) standin their doorways and give us the V sign. I don’tknow what the explanation is. My guess is that

it is a holdover from the days when they raised their right arms and said,“Heil Hitler” every time an Army vehicle passed.

France, April 17, 1945Dear Folks,Yesterday two items in the Stars and Stripes caused more argument anddiscussion here than crossing the Rhine or President Roosevelt’s death. Prob-ably neither item merited more than a squib or a small picture on a backpage. The first item was a picture of an emaciated and starved Americansoldier in a Nazi prison camp. The second was the story that two U.S.soldiers were being hung for raping two German girls. The lines on which wetook sides are obvious.

The Nazis starve our prisoners, shoot Polish officers, and rape and pillageFrance and Russia, and then some poor GI Joe is hung for raping a localwoman. I tried to say that the two should not be thought of together. Ifsomething was a crime in the States, it was also one in Germany. Still, death

Probably the most effective way to hurt a soldier’smorale was to exploit his anxiety about the

steadfastness of his wife or girlfriend. This leafletwas found planted in Verdun’s Red Cross center,

most likely by a French Nazi sympathizer,perhaps working as a cook or janitor.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 22

is a stiff sentence for rape. But I was alone. Members of a “liberating” or“conquering” Army get a lot of new ideas about justice.

France, May 9, 1945Dear Folks:V-E Day—the day we’ve waited for and hoped for for years has come andgone. It brought relief to the GIs who were dodging bullets in foxholes deepin Germany. It brought on drunken celebrations in New York, London,and Chicago. But, for the men like me who are not stationed in Paris but arestill a safe distance from the shell fire in the ETO, there was nothing but a fewfutile attempts to get drunk on “bière.” There were lots of bitter remarksabout ourselves and the war still to be fought on the other side of the world.Yesterday I was forced to make a trip to the hospital and stayed in town allday. I watched the French and GI population try tocelebrate. What a hollow celebration! I’ve seen moreenthusiastic crowds celebrating New Year’s Eve, ahigh-school victory, or a World Series in which theydidn’t have any personal interest. When the finalwhistle blows in a football game, it’s over. You useNew Year’s Eve only as an excuse for getting drunkonce a year.

When we heard the announcement over the telephone,the first reaction was not to believe it: “We’ve heardthat sort of stuff too often before.” Then, when wefinally heard the news, the statements varied, but thesentiment was always the same: “So what? We stillhave another son of a bitch to sweat out,” or “Nowthat we’ve won the French and English war, we stillhave our own war to fight.” This has been the senti-ment of the soldiers over here for a long time. You canhardly expect it to change with V-E day. You prob-ably remember the newspaper publicity given to thesign the engineers hung in front of the western end ofthe first pontoon bridge at Remagen, “The ShortestRoute to CBI.” (CBI signifies the China-Burma-In-dia Theater. The U.S. Army first crossed the RhineRiver at Remagen.)

Now, to tell you what actually happened to me when the news of the victoryarrived. When the first news came over the phone, we paid very little atten-tion to it. Most people just weren’t willing to believe it until they saw it inprint. Ironically, everybody was working very hard. On Monday eveninggasoline reached this station on the new line that is being laid to the no-longer-existent western front. There was plenty of brass hanging around (i.e. aboutthree lieutenants). There just wasn’t any excitement about the peace. Nobodyseemed to give a damn. Finally, I heard church bells ringing and went downto the little village a few hundred yards away hoping to find some excitementor at least a free drink. In the village I found the dozen French soldiers whowork in the area firing their rifles into the air while their sergeant was yellingorders and tearing his hair out. Three young girls offered to kiss me. Ofcourse, I didn’t kick too much. I let them kiss me three times, once on eachcheek and once on the forehead. There were no other American soldiers there,and no other civilians showed up. After a half hour I decided that the nine

dispassionate kisses were going to be the gross total of the excitement. Backin the tents I found everybody deeply engrossed in a much more exciting gameof stud poker.

On Tuesday I went into town (Verdun) and found the place bedecked withflags and filled with lots of GIs, both black and white, wandering aimlesslyand looking for cognac and someone to kiss them Paris-liberation style. Atthree o’clock they had a formal celebration with a speech by the mayor, aparade by the Boy Scouts and some kids from a church school, a speech fromParis over an amplifying system, and a little music (“La Marseillaise” fivetimes, “God Save the King,” and “The Star-Spangled Banner” once). Itwas hardly what you would call impressive. However, there were a fewlaughs.

The only times the crowd really roared and hooted andhollered was when an ash truck or some MPs woulddrive by with dejected-looking Jerries (German pris-oners of war) in the back of the truck. The crowdloved that. If there had not been some gendarmes andMPs around, they probably would have pelted themwith stones. I think the French were more or lessinsulted about the ignorance of the U.S. soldiers whenthey played “La Marseillaise” for the first time. Thefirst time they played it, all the gendarmes and BoyScouts snapped to attention, but the American sol-diers, colonels and privates alike, just didn’t know whatto do. Some stuck their hands in their pockets. Somestood at attention. A few saluted. But most, like me,just stared at a group of officers who in turn stared ateach other. Finally, everything was settled when twoMPs in a jeep came abruptly to a stop, jumped out,and saluted. As you know, the MPs are supposed tobe both the Emily Posts and the Beau Brummels ofthe Army. Their pants always have a knife-edge crease,and their hats always the correct tilt. It is they whodecide when you’re too drunk to be on the streets orwhat areas ought to be off limits to all U.S. militarypersonnel. (“All” refers to the fact that most of

the upscale, clean bars in Verdun were off limits only toenlisted men.)

After the parade I went to the Red Cross, where in the spirit of victory thedoughnuts and coffee were free, and read the papers. The Red Cross wascrowded but dead. Try as you might, you could not instill enthusiasm in thatcrowd. The fellows just drank their coffee and read their papers as usual. Ascould be expected on the big day, the radio didn’t work. Most of the Ameri-can soldiers stationed in the area were thoroughly annoyed at V-E Day, asthey have been ordered by the commanding general of this section to give a V-E Day parade for the French. Although our unit did not have to parade, Iknow there is not much fun or spontaneity in parading or standing at atten-tion with your rifle at “right-shoulder-arms” for a lot of people you don’t givea damn about.

Soldiering for Freedom is available from Texas A&M Press, and can be found atbookstores, as well as online at Amazon.com.

WWII

“Vive la Victorie,” reads a sign onVerdun’s main street on V-E Day. For theAmerican GIs expecting to be shipped tothe Pacific of CBI theaters, victory had yet

to be achieved.

The World War II Veterans Committee began with the productionof the award-winning radio documentary series, World War IIChronicles, commemorating the 50th anniversary of World War II.This program, hosted by the late, great “Voice of World War II,”Edward J. Herlihy, aired on over 500 stations nationwide between1991 and 1995 on the Radio America network. In the years since,the World War II Veterans Committee has produced dozens ofradio documentaries and series, in an effort to bring the history ofthe Second World War to the American pub-lic.

The Committee’s tradition of quality radioprogramming continues with the new series,Veterans Chronicles, hosted by Gene Pell,former NBC Pentagon Correspondent andhead of Voice of America and Radio FreeEurope/Radio Liberty. With VeteransChronicles, listeners are taken back in his-tory, and told the story of World War II bythe men and women who fought, and won,the war. The series is broadcast on the Ra-dio America network. In this issue, we printthe partial transcripts of a recent episode.

Only a letter from home was more welcome to a battle-weary GI thanan issue of Yank Magazine, The World War II Army weekly. Itwas a unique publication in that it was produced entirely by enlistedmen with officers limited to purely administrative functions. Yankwas printed in simultaneous editions in every theater of war and itboasted a readership in all armed services estimated at 10,000,000.Similar in appearance to Look magazine, Yank contained pictures,cartoons, poems, pin-ups, news and first-hand eyewitness stories fromall battlefronts.

Perhaps no Yank correspondent in the south Pacific was better knownor respected than Dave Richardson. Determined to write his storiesfrom first-hand experiences, sergeant Richardson joined dozens ofcombat missions conducted by various allied armies in the air, at seaand on the ground – including a three-month, 1,200 mile marchwith the famed Merrill’s Marauders in Burma. Richardson is be-lieved to be the most highly decorated correspondent in uniform dur-

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 23

A Dangerous andHazardous Mission

An Excerpt From Veterans Chronicles

ing World War II, having received the Legion of Merit, two BronzeStars, two Presidential Unit Citations, and a Purple Heart.

After the war, Mr. Richardson continued to travel the world forTime magazine and US News & World Report. Prior to hispassing in 2005, Richardson sat down for an interview and told ofhis experiences in some of the toughest combat conditions of theSecond World War.

When the war started I was drafted al-most immediately. I was sent to theCoast Guard auxiliary in Virginia Beachand showed them the need to start acamp newspaper there, which I be-came editor of. Then I heard that Yankmagazine was going to be formed as aglobal weekly for enlisted men of allservices in all theaters the of war. Iwrangled my way into that and jumpedfrom Corporal to Tech Sergeant, fivestripes immediately because theyneeded rank for what they were goingto do with me. I was sent with the firstgroup to go to the Pacific, to Brisbane,Australia, where I was to set up the

“Down Under” edition of Yank magazine. We had to go into see General MacArthur when we got there, and I carriedorders from General Marshall, Chief of the United StatesArmy, giving us incredible freedom. We sergeants had free-dom to write our own travel orders anywhere in the theaterof war, to recruit men for the Yank staff, to have prioritieson newspaper and print facilities, even to live between as-signments in hotels along with the top officers – as long aswe didn’t wear our stripes. So MacArthur, we had to go inand stand at attention before him, and we were scared ashell facing him in this big office of his, and he was sittingthere regally at a bare table. We saluted, gave him our or-ders, and he put on his glasses and started reading the or-ders. I could see his face. Finally he said, “Well men, all Ican say is you’re going to have more freedom than anybodyin this theater except me.”

sent to Burma, stopping in New Delhi along the way. ThereI met a fellow named James Warnabellow who had been agreat short story writer for the Saturday Evening Post, butwas then in the Army as a PR man. He asked me to drop byheadquarters, that he wanted to talk to me about some-thing. I went over there and he said, “Richardson, we’vegot the story of the war for you.” There was an outfit thatwas going in behind Japanese lines. An elite outfit, it wasgoing to stay there for some time. No one had ever donethis in the war. This was something special. Then he ex-plained what had happened. Merrill’s Marauders was con-ceived in the brain of Roosevelt. There was a meeting in

Quebec of Churchill andRoosevelt, early 1943, todiscuss the strategy of thewar. And when they got toChina-Burma-India, thesituation there was the Brit-ish, with their Indian troops,were on the border ofBurma fighting to stop theJapanese from furtheringtheir advance. The Japanesehad come right throughSingapore, Malaya, sweptup to Burma and Thailand,sweeping up to the very tipof Burma. The Britishfeared they were going tohead for India next, thecrown jewel of the empire.So the British preoccupa-tion, then, was to protect

India, whereas the Americans had a different goal, and thatwas to help China because China was alone in the Far Eastin fighting the Japanese. The Japanese had taken over all ofthe coastal areas of China and come up and blocked theold Burma road, so the Chinese were effectively cut off. Sowe had started an airlift, the “hump” over the HimalayanMountains with dozens of planes every day crossing the“hump” with supplies for China. But they weren’t suffi-cient obviously, and what we wanted was to push a roadthrough to the Burma Road, connect with the old BurmaRoad so that we could ship supplies from India by road toChina.

This was going to be a major engineering enterprise, butyou first of all had to clear the Japanese away from the areathey wanted to put the road through. Unfortunately it wasvery mountainous territory, and very thick jungles. Churchill

So once we recruited a staff, we got things going, I said Iwanted to be a combat correspondent. I didn’t want to runthe thing. I went up to New Guinea, where the toughestjungle fighting in the world was then going on, with theAustralians doing most of the fighting but two Americandivisions coming in. And I plunged into that fighting. It wasa rough one because New Guinea was the sole island northof Australia. If the Japanese ever got New Guinea theywould have been sitting right above Australia. But the Aus-tralians thrust them back, and the Americans took over onthe coast. Buna was a terrible battle. The Japs had the highground, while we fought through swamps. I came out ofthat battle with malaria, vas-cular dysentery and yellowjaundice all at the sametime. Had to be fed throughthe arm for about a week torecover. Lost a lot of weight.That was my first touch ofjungle combat.

By the end of May 1942, Ja-pan had conquered nearly all ofBurma. China’s lifeline, theBurma Road was cut off.

Dr. Wellington Chu, Chineseambassador to London, declaredthat the British must recaptureBurma to keep China in thefighting and win the war.

United States General JosephStilwell said the last word on the campaign. “We got one hell of abeating. We got run out of Burma and it’s as humiliating as hell. Ithink we ought to find out what caused it and go back and retake theplace.”

Stilwell had led the unsuccessful campaign to hold on to Burma. AJapanese counterattack over seemingly impassable mountains hadrouted his troops and forced them to retreat into India. But theAmerican army was learning the lessons of jungle fighting and itsoon had a force ready to try to retake Burma. This was to be aswashbuckling adventure that Yank correspondent Dave Richardsonwould find irresistible.

Whether they thought I should go to China-Burma-Indiabecause I had been in operation against the Japanese al-ready or whether they thought for some other reason I wouldbe better there, I don’t know. But anyway I was going to be

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 24

Merrill’s Marauders cross a tributary of the Chidwin River in NorthernBurma in February, 1944. Pfc. Philip Morrissey (right), was Lead Scoutfor B Battalion when the enemy was encountered along a trail throughelephant grass. He fired first, killing two Japanese. He is credited with

drawing first blood for B Battalion. Photo by Dave Richardson.

pointed out that the British fighting in Burma alone made itappear as if it was merely an attempt to get back Burma,their colonial possession. He asked Roosevelt to at leastjust send in one elite unit, which would garner a lot of pub-licity, that could join the Chindits, the British force usedbehind the lines led by the General Orde Wingate. It wasthen that President Roosevelt issued a call for 3,000 volun-teers for a “dangerous and hazardous mission” in Asia—dangerous referring to the Japanese, and hazardous refer-ring to the rampant disease.

In a base in India, Brigadier (later Major) General Frank Merrillwas training the Marauders, a force of experienced American junglefighters sent to CBI by GeneralMarshall.

Over at the Marauders’ campthey got their final instructionsand headed south through thejungle. They were all handpicked, all veterans. Most ofthem had already fought theJapanese in the jungle and theyknew that no two days of fight-ing would be the same.

Their code name was“Galahad” – their official titlewas the awkward-sounding USArmy’s 5307th Composite Unit– but they are forever known tohistory as Merrill’s Marauders.These 2,900 Army Rangerswere the first United States ground combat forces to meet the enemyin World War II in the China-Burma-India theater in 1944.Theirdeeds were inspiring, just as their sacrifices were sobering. Maraudercausalities were projected to reach 85 percent – a staggeringly-accu-rate figure when the fighting stopped.

Yank correspondent Dave Richardson was no stranger to difficultassignments in very hostile conditions. In the southwest Pacific hehad already earned the Legion of Merit. Joining up with the Ma-rauders offered the toughest story yet. Sergeant Richardson couldn’twait.

So this group was put together. Unlike today’s Green Be-rets, this was not hand-picked group. These were not physi-cal and mental specimens. These were just ordinary guyswho volunteered, some of them because they thought they’dget a home leave before going into action, some because

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 25

they didn’t like their commander, some because the com-mander didn’t like him and pushed him into it. So it was arag-tag bunch but it had amazing depth of all sorts of peoplein it. It had Harvard eggheads and convicts off the streetsof New York, tough East Side guys. It had Sioux Indianswho became our best snipers. It had Nisei interpreters, theywere Japanese-American whose families were behind barbedwire in California, put there by Roosevelt when the warstarted and yet they were willing to fight and go behindJapanese lines. You can imagine what would happen if theywere ever caught by the Japanese. It’s one thing to be caughtbehind the lines in Germany for a Japanese-American, butbehind the Japanese lines! They became some of our most

valuable soldiers.

So they went over underStilwell and the idea wasthat Burma is like corduroy– mountains and valleysnorth and south. And therewas only one supply road –and it was a dirt road – go-ing up from Mandalaynorth. So the Japanese hadto send all their supplies onthis one road, and one rail-road. All on this narrowthing. So the idea was theMarauders would make endruns around the edges ofthe valley, come in behindthe Japanese, put roadblocks on that road, their

supplies would collapse and the Chinese would get out oftheir foxholes, take their rice and pots and go and march inbehind us. And that’s the way it went along the way.

What we would do is set out over trail that was not the bestof trails and walk part of each hour and then have a restbreak. Much of the rest break was spent not only having asmoke—everybody smoked then—but with leeches, they’dget on us from the bushes along the way, blood suckingleeches. You had to take a cigarette and hit them in theback so they’d loosen their grip. And that was a regular partof the rest breaks, take off the leaches as well as take asmoke and then you’d be back on the trail.

We couldn’t stick to main trails in many places because theJapanese had ambushes in place and were ready for us. Sowe’d go off in the jungle. You couldn’t drink the water be-

A Marauder column crosses single file a tributary of the Chidwin Riveron another end run around Japanese strongpoints to the rear of enemy

lines. Photo by Dave Richardson.

cause the Chinese upstream were using it to defecate in, soyou had to purify it with chlorine pills, and it tasted terrible.You’d put this mosquito stuff on at night, you’d take pillsagainst the malaria, your eyeballs would be yellow. And youdid your best to maintain sanitary conditions but there wereno hot showers in the jungle, there were no flush toilets inthe jungle. You’d have to be very careful of indicating alatrine and covering it when you left it because the big worrywas infection in the jungle. Infection is always a menace, inyour food, in your wounds, in what you eat, everything.Also, if we had wounded, they had to clear elephant grassto make a landing strip and fly in a little L5 to fly out onebody at a time. Often we couldn’t get the dead out thatway, we’d just make a little cemeteryand bury them there. We never left anywounded; the Rangers pride them-selves to never leave man behind, ever.If a man was injured you carried himuntil the battle was over. And thenyou’d fall back into a protected areafar enough from the Japanese to fly inL5s and take him out.

The Marauders were entirely suppliedby airdrop parachute. Every bullet wefired, every piece of food we ate cameby air. Which meant if it was three orfour days of rain, we got nothing. You’dgo without food. Each man carried hisown bullets, his own food. And as themarch went on we’d keep throwingthings away. We’d start with a full blan-ket, a full poncho, a full mess kit. Asyou went on you’d find you could dowithout this, you’d cut the blanket inhalf, cut the poncho in half. Throwaway half the mess kit. You’re lightening your load becausewhen there was an airdrop you had to carry several days offood at once in these K rations, and you had to carry bulletsfor your guns. You had to carry it all yourself. And I had theadded thing of carrying my camera and my film and mynotebooks. And here I was 140 pounds; I was underweight,15 to 20 pounds underweight, skinny as a reed. How I car-ried that pack and gun and all this I’ll never know. I thinkwe went on sheer will power, I really do. Most of us werenot these trim specimens you see in the special forces to-day, hand-picked selected and trained. But as I say we didn’thave this. I guess it was pride. We were ignored by the world,but here we were on our own and we had some inspiring

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 26

officers and this father figure Merrill we all loved and wemade it.

By early March 1944, the 5307th had proven its ability to movecross-country supported by long distance radio communication andregular air drops. The Marauders had worked successfully withChinese troops and with the native Kachin people, a critical asset.The Marauders now faced the trial of combat.

The Marauders, in our very first engagement at a place calledWalawbum, came in, took them by surprise. Mind you thisone battalion was the only one that had fought atGuadalcanal and New Guinea, so they were uniquely

equipped to fight the Japanese and theyhad fantastic officers who had done thesame thing. So the Japanese cameacross out of the trees, out to his openarea with flags yelling, “Banzai!Banzai!” They had managed to scarethe hell out of Colonial troops all theway down the Malaysian peninsula, butit didn’t scare us. They were just sit-ting ducks. So we sat there and we justmowed them down as they came across,wave after wave after wave. By the endof the day there were 700 bodies onthat field, all Japanese. This was moreor less a greeting card from the Ameri-cans to the Japanese. This 18th Divi-sion prided itself as one of their crackdivisions and here we just stopped themcold. But they weren’t out of it by anymeans. The rest escaped south and weregoing to put up a new defensive line,but when we attacked south of there,a place called Inkangahtawng, the Japa-

nese had readied a counterattack off to the side to try tooutflank us, and it nearly succeeded. It was a very rough go.They chased two battalions all the way up into the hillsagain. Only the brilliant work of our number one soldier,Logan Westin, and his platoon, of holding them off onsawtooth ridges against very superior forces with limitedfood, fatigue, everything, with a skillful series of ambushesslowed down the Japanese and allowed the two battalionsto escape to a redoubt up in the hills. The Japanese sur-rounded that redoubt and held one battalion in there, trap-ping us for 12 days, and it was rough. Sending in shells,terrible things were happening there. And at the hill wherewe had the siege against us, most of our mules were killedand they’re out there stinking, smelling and it was very rough

T/5 George Drugotch of Edwardsville, Pa., amule veterinarian technician, reads a booklet,

“How To Get Along With the Kachins,Shans and Burmans,” to a Kachin scout whoserved as a trail guide for the Marauders looks

on. Photo by Dave Richardson.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 27

for these guys, surrounded for 12 days with the rotting mulesamong them.

Anyway, we finally broke the barrier, and the way we didthis was very unusual. We had no artillery—this is light in-fantry, but the Japanese had artillery and were pounding thehell out of us on that hill. Finally we decided the only wayto break their grip on us is to get at that artillery. Get thatout of the way and then we could do things. So, Merrillordered two howitzers to be dropped in by airplane. We putin heavy fire on their artillery position and within two hourswe were pinpointing it all and wipedthem off that position entirely andfrom then on the spell was broken.We got in there.

Right then we thought that we wereabout finished in Burma, since thiswas supposed to be a quickie opera-tion. But Stilwell asked us to do onemore thing. This new operationcharged the Marauders with takingthe airstrip at Myitkyina, the keyJapanese point in Northern Burma

Myitkyina airstrip was important be-cause it was the refueling point forJapanese fighter planes from the southto come over and refuel during theirmissions to try to shoot down ourplanes flying the “hump.” They weredoing a lot of damage to both ourplanes and also to the Chinese troops.So, if we could take out that airstrip,we could use it to our advantage. But time was runningout; the monsoon season was coming. Stilwell knew theChinese were too slow to take on this mission themselves,so he asked us to go on one more mission.

By that time our 2,900 men were down to about halfstrength, mostly from disease – malaria, dysentery, otherjungle diseases. All while walking with 60 pound packs,eating nothing but K rations – an emergency ration you’renot supposed to live on. So we’re all down 20, 30, 40 pounds.We’re susceptible to all this disease. Fatigue had set in, andit was a very rough go. But Stilwell asked us to go on “onemore mission.” So we did.

We went up over the mountains, losing many mules on theway. When you lost a mule you’d take the equipment off

and carry it yourself, heavy mortars and everything. And itwas slip and slide. The monsoons had already started a littlebit and the jungle was slimy mud. It was a terrible thing. Wefinally came down the other side and went in three col-umns; Marauders headed each column with the Chinese be-hind us. We came upon the Myitkyina airstrip and foundthe Japanese completely surprised. We practically walkedin without a shot fired.

But as soon as we took it, we could hear trucks comingdown from all over bringing in Japanese reinforcements. We

were told to sit tight because our re-inforcements were coming in as well.But the reinforcements did not comein. Finally one green regiment, theChinese 150th, showed up. They weretold to go into the city and take therailroad station. They went in twocolumns, but each column thoughtthe soldiers on the other side of thestation were Japanese. They weretheir own troops. They shot eachother, killing hundreds of their ownpeople. Green troops. They didn’tknow what they were doing.

Then Stilwell was hunting for otherpeople because the Marauders had noreplacements. By that time on the air-strip we were down to about 600 men.They were flying men out on stretch-ers, and people could no longer fight.Many who had malaria once got itvery quickly again. Some to this day

are still getting recurrent malaria, there’s a recurrent dysen-tery too. I was lucky, my type of dysentery was vascillary, itwas very painful, it was bleeding, but it was not recurrent.For some of them, the dysentery was so bad they cut outthe back of their pants. Forty died on the airstrip of scrubtyphus, something we had no inoculations for. We con-tracted it as we came over the mountain at a Japanese camp.And 40 died there at the airstrip, and you’d go to sleep onthe ground beside a guy and the next day he’d be dead.

Episodes of Veterans Chronicles can be heard at the World War II Veter-ans Committee’s web site, www.wwiivets.com. CDs of each program areavailable for $5 (plus $3 shipping) by calling 202-777-7272.

WWII

Marauder column passes bodies of Japanese killedshortly before in attempted ambush of a preced-ing I & R Platoon patrol that was advancing alonga Burma trail through high elephant grass. Photo

by Dave Richardson.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 28

A few years ago I came across free, one-year subscriptionsto Esquire Magazine and Sports Illustrated on the internet.Though I read Sports Illustrated cover-to-cover and only oc-casionally glanced at Esquire, I did find a regular sectionthat typically caught my interest, if not more for the humorthan for the actual learning experience. That section wascalled “What I’ve learned” and it featured insights, humor-ous anecdotes and life experiences from a variety of celeb-rities and political figures.

Dan Rather told Esquire that,“The press is a watchdog. Notan attack dog. Not a lapdog.A watchdog. Now, a watchdogcan’t be right all the time. Hedoesn’t bark only when he seesor smells something that’s dan-gerous. A good watchdogbarks at things that are suspi-cious.”

B.B. King said, “Some peoplesay that blues singers are al-ways cryin’ in their beer. Butyou know what? I don’t drink.”

And Hugh Hefner gloated that his best pick-up line is, “Myname is Hugh Hefner.”

Though I am only 20 years old and have yet to encountermany of life’s greatest experiences, I would still like to sharea little bit of what I’ve learned over the years. Mostly, Iwould like to share my experiences with regard to youthand war, America and veterans, patriotism and the generalattitude of young people towards World War II.

Freedom is a treasure so valued that men and women arewilling to give their lives in its pursuit. This I have learned.

As my junior year at the University of North Carolina iswinding down, I have had some time to reflect on a fewtrends I have seen amongst my peers. The atmosphere oncampus today seems to focus on promoting open-mindedness, a heart for humanities and diversity. Though

there might be nothing wrong with these issues, as we shouldall have a cause that puts the grit in our teeth, I can say assomeone in tune to campus events that, with the exceptionof an ROTC-sponsored Veterans Day Ceremony, there havebeen no publicized events dedicated to America’s troops,veterans or World War II. Why is this? What are collegestudents thinking about? Don’t they know that the time tohonor our WWII heroes is drawing to a bittersweet end?

I would like to think so. Buteveryday thoughts and activi-ties on campus lead me to be-lieve this is not the case. I amsaddened by this, too. Sevenyears of my life I spent work-ing to honor the final crew ofthe USS Indianapolis. This wasmy mission. This was my call-ing and my quest: to try and re-pay the cost that so many paidin pursuit of my freedom.

I have seen first hand what itmeans to be a hero. I have seen,first hand, what it means tosacrifice everything in the pur-

suit of an idea—an idea so powerful that 50 stars and 13stripes can unite a nation. Every college student shouldhear the life story of a man who survived four days with nofood and no water in a shark-infested Pacific with no res-cue party to look for him. That would change a student’slife, as it changed mine.

“Bringing the legacy of the Greatest Generation to the lat-est generation” is the World War II Veterans Committee’smotto. I have been with the organization for four yearsnow and I am still excited to see the efforts made to pre-serve veterans’ stories and share them with today’s youth.And thank goodness for America, the trend I’ve seen oncollege campuses seems to be confined to college campuses.

The Veterans Committee has given me the opportunity totravel the country and give speeches and presentations onthe USS Indianapolis, World War II, honoring veterans and

What I’ve LearnedBy Hunter Scott

World War II Veterans Committee’s National Youth Representative

Hunter Scott with former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of StaffGeneral Richard Myers at the World War II Veterans Committee’s

2004 conference.

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 29

preserving veterans’ legacies. As I travel I have a chance tosee the exigency of preserving WWII stories. Last month Igave a presentation in the Franklin Branch Library in India-napolis. There I witnessed a large crowd of all ages rangingfrom young families with small children to retired veterans.There was excitement in the room as they listened to thestory of how the unjust court-martial of Captain McVaywas overturned and the final crew finally honored. Thefollowing day I gave two presentations in local Indianapo-lis public schools. In each presentation there were over athousand students, facultyand community patronswho had all come to cel-ebrate America’s WorldWar II heroes.

I see excitement on stu-dents’ faces as they studyWorld War II and learn ofthe sacrifices made for theirfreedom. Students are ea-ger to meet the men andwomen who fought so thatthey could have a free edu-cation. More common inschools are history clubsand World War II clubs thatmeet with the sole purpose of studying the Second WorldWar. I even see a great number of local veterans beingfrequently asked into their area schools to tell war stories.There is a nation-wide push to preserve these stories as thetime to do so is drawing to a close.

Summer reading lists for schools all over the country in-clude books like The Good Fight: How World War II Was Wonby Stephen Ambrose, Tell Them We Remember: The Story ofthe Holocaust by Susan Bachrach, Left for Dead by Pete Nelson,Fighting for Honor by Michael Cooper and so many more.World War II has become a major theme in junior high andhigh schools and I am proud to see young people take suchan interest in the Greatest Generation.

I would like to refer to a column worth reading that BenStein wrote for EOnline.com. In his article, “Monday Nightand Morton’s,” Ben Stein writes that he no longer thinksHollywood stars are terribly important. “Real stars,” Steinsays, “are not riding around in the backs of limousines or inPorsches or getting trained in yoga or Pilates and eatingonly raw fruit while they have Vietnamese girls do theirnails. They can be interesting, nice people, but they are not

heroes to me any longer. A real star is the soldier of the 4thInfantry Division who poked his head into a hole on a farmnear Tikrit, Iraq. He could have been met by a bomb or ahail of AK-47 bullets. Instead, he faced an abject SaddamHussein and the gratitude of all of the decent people ofthe world.”

I agree. And it has been my experience that America agreestoo. I have noticed that the real “American Idol” is no longera new pop star but the American war hero. And for that, I

am proud to be an Ameri-can.

Now that I am in the NavyROTC program at UNC Ihave an entirely differentperspective on the military.At times, yes, it would bemuch easier and perhapseven more fun to be a regu-lar college student. Butthe lessons I’ve learned inROTC have helped shapeme for the rest of my life.

Each day ROTC teachesme something new. After

three years in the program I have an even greater apprecia-tion for servicemen—and women. I understand the truemeaning of sacrifice. Honor, courage and commitmenthave become an important part of my daily routine. I lookin the mirror each day and I realize that I am no longer acivilian. In one year I will receive a commission into theUnited States Navy and have the opportunity to serve theUSA, just like my heroes. For this opportunity, I am thank-ful.

Those are just a few things I’ve picked up on over the shortyears I have lived. Who cares what B.B. King or HughHefner has to say about the blues or women? The realstory, the heart of America, lies within our heroes who havefought to make this country the greatest. If I started amagazine, every page would feature a “What I’ve Learned:A War Hero’s Story.” Life’s greatest lessons can be learnedfrom life’s greatest heroes—the Greatest Generation.

Hunter Scott is the World War II Veterans Committee’s National YouthRepresentative. He was influental in the Congressional exoneration of Cap-tain Charles McVay of the USS Indianapolis in 2000. Hunter is cur-rently a junior at the University of North Carolina.

WWII

Twelve-year-old Hunter Scott with Maurice Bell, survivor of the USSIndianapolis. What began as a small history project for Hunter turned intoa major quest to uncover the truth behind the sinking of the Indianapolis,

and the exoneration of its court-martialed captain, Charles McVay.

The American Veterans Center

Ninth Annual Conference

Announcing...

November 9-11, 2006Hyatt Regency Crystal City at

Ronald Reagan Washington National AirportArlington, Virginia

For more information or torequest a registration form,call 202-777-7272.

On Veterans Day weekend, join some of America’s greatest heroes atthe Committee’s Ninth Annual Conference. This year we welcomeveterans from the Greatest Generation through the latest generation,including vets from World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan andIraq, and more. From the Greatest Generation through the latest gen-eration, this will be your chance to meet American heroes, past andpresent.

In addition to three days of speakers and panels featuring some ofAmerica’s most distinguished veterans, the conference will includewreath laying ceremonies at the World War II, Korea, and VietnamWar Memorials, a service honoring America’s veterans at WashingtonNational Cathedral, and two evening events. It is all capped off withthe Annual Gala Awards Banquet, honoring the heroism of our menand women in uniform.

Confirmed Speakers IncludeHon. James Nicholson, Secretary of Vet-erans Affairs and veteran of Vietnam

Bob Feller, Baseball Hall of Famer and vet-eran of World War II

Col. Ed Shames, platoon leader in E. Co.,506 PIR, 101st Airborne - Band of Brothers

Hon. Celia Sandys, noted author andgranddaughter of Sir Winston Churchill

Brig. Gen. Steve Ritchie, The only AirForce Ace Pilot in the Vietnam War

James Webb, Decorated veteran ofVietnam, former Secretary of the Navy,and best-selling author

Adrian Cronauer, Famed Vietnam DiscJockey and subject of the movie GoodMorning, Vietnam

And Many More to Come!

PlusPanels on D-Day, Iwo Jima, and Okinawa

Wreath laying ceremonies at the National WorldWar II Memorial, the Korean War Veterans

Memorial, and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial

The gala Edward J. Herlihy Awards Banquet,honoring some of America’s greatest veterans

Col. George “Bud” Day, veteran of threewars, recipient of the Medal of Honor, andthe most decorated American soldier sinceDouglas MacArthur

A panel featuring the Vietnam POW experience

Dr. Jay W. Baird, author of To Die ForGermany: Heroes in the Nazi Pantheon

Presented by the World War II Veterans Committeeand the

National Vietnam Veterans Committee

Former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Richard Myers,Medal of Honor recipient Hershel “Woody” Williams, and

American Veterans Center president James C. Roberts at the2004 conference

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2006 - 31

The World War II Book ClubFeaturing Books About World War II

The United States Merchant Marine has a tradi-tion—from the Revolutionary War to thepresent-day Gulf conflicts—of being in the fore-front of every American military action. Theyhave served with distinction in every case. BrianHerbert has chronicled the amazing exploits ofthese gallant seamen, assembling a fascinatingarray of data to describe the world of the Mer-chant Marine in peace and especially in war.

Drawing from historical documents, govern-ment records, diaries, and interviews with sur-viving veterans, Herbert has constructed a bril-

liant history that details the heroism, self-sacrifice, and grim determina-tion that has been the hallmark of the United States Merchant Marine. Healso reveals one of the great injustices of American history—the gravefailure of our legislators that has allowed the veterans of the MerchantMarine to become the forgotten heroes of World War II

The civilian fighters of the Merchant Marine performed feats of extraor-dinary bravery during World War II; they were the lifeline of the entireAllied war effort, delivering troops, materiel, food, fuel, and every essen-tial needed for victory over the Axis. While executing these duties, the Mer-chant Marine suffered losses so high that the casualty rates were kept secret.

THE FORGOTTEN HEROESTHE FORGOTTEN HEROESTHE FORGOTTEN HEROESTHE FORGOTTEN HEROESTHE FORGOTTEN HEROESTHE HEROIC STORY OF THE UNITED STATES

MERCHANT MARINE

by Brian HerbertForge Books; 328 pages $14.95 (Hardcover)

It remains the U.S. Marine Corps.’ bloodiest battle.Fifty years later, it is A.P. photographer JoeRosenthal’s Pulitzer-winning photo of Marinesraising the American flag on Mt. Suribachi that keepsthe memory of Iwo Jima alive.

Uncommon Valor, Common Virtue is a full account ofthe battle itself and of Rosenthal’s ten days onIwo Jima as Marines fought against a murderousJapanese onslaught. It recounts the enduring legacyof “the photograph”-most recently in the historic

picture of three firemen raising the American flag at the site of the WorldTrade Center, recalling Rosenthal’s timeless image of steely resolve in theface of tyranny.

The book includes the bonus DVD, Iwo Jima: Uncommon Valor, CommonVirtue, produced by Lou Reda Productions, Inc.

UNUNUNUNUNCCCCCOMMON VALOMMON VALOMMON VALOMMON VALOMMON VALOR, COMMONOR, COMMONOR, COMMONOR, COMMONOR, COMMONVIRTUEVIRTUEVIRTUEVIRTUEVIRTUEIWO JIMA AND THE PHOTOGRAPH THAT CAPTURED

AMERICA

by Hal BuellBerkley Hardcover; 272 pages $28.95 (Hardcover)

IN COMMAND OF HISTORYIN COMMAND OF HISTORYIN COMMAND OF HISTORYIN COMMAND OF HISTORYIN COMMAND OF HISTORYCHURCHILL FIGHTING AND WRITING THESECOND WORLD WARby David ReynoldsRandom House; 656 pages $35.00 (Hardcover)

HELL IS UPON USHELL IS UPON USHELL IS UPON USHELL IS UPON USHELL IS UPON USD-DAY IN THE PACIFIC: JUNE - AUGUST 1944by Victor BrooksDa Capo Press; 656 pages $35.00 (Hardcover)

The story of the “other” D-Day invasion, this onein the Pacific Ocean, which would turn the tide ofthe war against Japan in the summer of 1944.

June 14, 1944, just nine days after the D-Day inva-sion of Normandy, another mighty fleet steamedtowards its own D-Day landing. A huge U.S. flo-tilla of 800 ships carrying 162,000 men was aboutto attempt to smash into the outer defenses of theJapanese Empire. Their target was the Marianas

Island group, which included Saipan, home to an important Japanesebase and a large population of Japanese civilians, and Guam, the firstAmerican territory captured in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor.

During the next eight weeks, tens of thousands of men, hundreds ofairplanes, and dozens of major warships were locked in mortal combat.When it was over, 60,000 Japanese ground troops and most of the carrierair power of the Imperial Navy were annihilated; Japan’s leader, Tojo, wasthrown out of office in disgrace; and the newly captured enemy airfieldswere being transformed into launching bases for the B-29s that wouldcarry the conventional and, later, atomic bombs to Japan, turning the landof the Rising Sun into a charred cinder. After the U.S. victory in theMarianas campaign, the road to Tokyo was clearly in sight.

Winston Churchill was one of the giants of thetwentieth century. As Britain’s prime minister from1940 to 1945, he courageously led his nation andthe world away from appeasement, into war, andon to triumph over the Axis dictators. His classicsix-volume account of those years, The SecondWorld War, has shaped our perceptions of the con-flict and secured Churchill’s place as its most impor-tant chronicler. Now, for the first time, a book ex-plains how Churchill wrote this masterwork, and in

the process enhances and often revises our understanding of one ofhistory’s most complex, vivid, and eloquent leaders.

In Command of History sheds new light on Churchill in his multiple, oftenoverlapping roles as warrior, statesman, politician, and historian. Citingexcerpts from the drafts and correspondence for Churchill’s magnumopus, David Reynolds opens our eyes to the myriad forces that shaped itsfinal form.

All books are available at bookstores or can be ordered online at Amazon.com.

World War II Veterans CommitteeA Project of The American Veterans Center1030 15th St., NW, Suite 856Washington, D.C. 20005

NONPROFIT ORG.U.S. POSTAGE

PAIDWALDORF, MDPERMIT NO. 30

The word “iPod” is most likely not a familiar one to most of our readers. However, if you have a childor grandchild under the age of 30, they not only know what an iPod is, they might even own one. Inshort, an iPod is a small device (smaller than a wallet) that allows a person play music, talk shows, etc.,downloaded from their computer. If you are still confused, don’t worry! Let us explain…

Besides being able to play hours and hours of mindless music (which young people havebeen known to enjoy for centuries), the iPod can be put to good use by actually helpingthem learn about history. World War II Chronicles, the radio documentary series that ledto this publication, can now be listened to on your (or your grandchild’s) iPod. Featuringarchival clips of World War II-era broadcasts, World War II Chronicles was a weekly radioseries, originally airing during the 50th anniversary of the United States’ involvement in thewar from 1941-1945. Narrated by the “Voice of World War II” Ed Herlihy, the programs wererecorded in the traditional style of the newsreel, and are each about three minutes in length(perfect for listeners with short attention spans!). Chronicles covers all of the majorevents of the war, from Pearl Harbor to Midway, from D-Day to VE and VJ Days. By makingWorld War II Chronicles available for iPod, it is our hope to further build interest in WorldWar II among young people by making learning convenient and easy.

Once you finish with this issue of World War II Chronicles,we encourage you to pass it along to a young person (ifyou do not already do so!). They can follow the direc-tions, listed to the right, and easily download as many ofthe almost 200 episodes as they want. Perhaps hearing thestories of the men and women who fought and won WorldWar II will spark an interest in history that will stay withthem the rest of their lives.

World War II Chronicles can also be heard at the Committee’swebsite, www.wwiivets.com

World War II Chronicles on your iPod!

To listen to World War II Chronicles on PodcastEnter the following link into your podcast subscription software:

http://www.wwiivets.com/Chronicles.xml

If you are new to podcasting, go to the Committee’s website atwww.wwiivets.com

Once there, click on the “Audio & Video Programs” tab on theleft hand side of the page. Then click on the link for World War II

Chronicles and follow the directions. It’s that easy!