by Hugh Ambrose
The carabao steaks went down easier. Resembling a water buffalo, the carabao provided plenty of savory meat. Over the next few days, the men ate every few hours, rested, and washed themselves. In his diary, Shifty described the dishes served at every fabulous meal. All the villagers hated the Japanese and loved Americans. Shifty met a boy who had had the first two fingers on his right hand cut off by the Japanese to prevent him from firing a rifle. At Big Boy's hut they enjoyed drinking tuba, the first alcohol they had tasted in a long time. He told them he would bring them to his superiors when he had made arrangements. He also told them of a radio on Mindanao that communicated with Australia. That got their attention. The group began to discuss changing their plans in light of this dramatic news. They might just make it home after all. As much as the news excited Shifty, he took a few days to relax. Lying in the hut and listening to the rain drum on the roof gave him a deep sense of peace. He slept soundly.
Supplied by the good people of Longa-og, the Americans began the journey to the home of Dr. David Kapangagan, an evacuee from Davao City who could connect them to the guerrilla movement. At every stop along the way, the villagers welcomed them, feted them with music and feasts, let them sleep in their beds. The relaxed and fun life continued at Dr. Kapangagan's house, where they waited for a few days. One night ten or twelve very pretty girls came to invite them to a dance. The Americans walked in the torch parade to the dance, watched the locals perform, and even returned the favor by singing a song. Shifty found himself "called on to do the Tennessee Stomp."
On April 17, Captain Claro Laureta of the Philippine Constabulary arrived. He affirmed the existence of a large guerrilla force on the northern coast of Mindanao--his constabulary was a part of it--but he refused to confirm the report about the radio communication with Australia. The team listened intently, probing for more answers about the guerrillas, their whereabouts, leadership, goals, and the journey. The trek to the northern coast would take them through a remote area controlled by tribes of Atas and Honobos."After a meeting all the party decided to change plans and go to the guerrilla headquarters on Northern Mindanao." Captain Laureta organized food for their long journey and guides. On April 21, they set off on the long trek north.
AFFECTION FOR THE SB2C DID NOT GROW ON THE PILOTS OF BOMBING SIX. The manufacturer had suggested the nickname "Helldiver." Its pilots, however, preferred to call it the Beast. It required a lot of attention in level flight and real concentration when landing because of its shaky hold on the air. As part of his April fitness reports, Ray Davis (now a lieutenant commander) asked Lieutenant Micheel to state his preferred duty. Mike said he would prefer to become a fighter pilot on a carrier in the Pacific. He wanted out of El Centro, a backwater training base, and in to the navy's new fighter plane, the Hellcat, which had earned rave reviews. Neither Davis nor apparently the U.S. Navy evinced any interest in letting a skilled dive- bomber pilot get away. In mid-April Bombing Six cut its training schedule short and flew east.
They stopped in Columbus, Ohio, and let the technicians of the Curtiss-Wright check their planes. Mike arrived three days late because of engine trouble. Once the factory engineers gave his plane, number 00080, the all clear, he set out to catch up with his squadron, but ran out of gas and lost two days. He landed at NAS Norfolk, part of the navy's vast complex there, on April 22, well behind the rest of his squadron. The new pilots in Bombing Six had already begun to enjoy an advantage he had not had a year before: practicing carrier landings on a flattop out in the Chesapeake Bay in advance of landing upon their new fleet carrier.
After its new pilots qualified as carrier pilots on a small "jeep" carrier in Chesapeake Bay, Bombing Six landed their SB2Cs aboard the new fleet carrier, USS Yorktown, on May 5.12 Yorktown had been commissioned two weeks earlier. Her name recalled the carrier lost at Midway as well as ships dating back to the dawn of the United States Naval Service. The pilots found her passageways crowded with workers and tradesmen of all kinds, completing the installation of the furnishings, fittings and equipment.
Of course she was bigger, the new Yorktown. Although not as large as Saratoga, Yorktown's flight deck beat Enterprise's by about eighteen feet in length. The longer airstrip pleased Mike, who had always "puckered" at takeoffs more than most. Bombing Six had joined Air Group Five, including thirty-six Hellcats, a scouting squadron that also flew the SB2C and brought the total number of Beasts on board to thirty-six, and eighteen Avengers, the navy's torpedo plane. Jimmy Flatley, one of the most respected fighter pilots of the war, commanded the carrier's air group. His squadrons began practicing their landings on their new carrier as she steamed up and down Chesapeake Bay, preparing for her shakedown cruise.
WHEN SID WAS RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL, HE RETURNED TO FIND HIS battalion had left for field exercises. The 2/1 returned a few days later and, when the men of #4 gun squad caught sight of him, they expressed their disappointment that he hadn't died. Sid smiled. Deacon and W.O. shared stories of long marches, extended order drills, and gunnery practice, so Sid was glad he had missed it. Conditioning hikes, though, became a common morning duty, with Lieutenant Benson leading his mortar platoon around and around the Fitzroy Gardens, a beautiful park near the cricket grounds.
The mortar platoon usually had the afternoon off, with long liberties on weekends. Deacon and Sid often went to tea with the Osborne family. One afternoon, though, Sid met up with one of the new guys in the squad, Tex. They took the tram to Young & Jackson, a large pub across the street from the main railway station at the center of town. The pub boasted a painting of a nude young woman named Chloe. While taking a good look at Chloe, Sid drank a pint of beer. Tex downed three scotch and waters. The two walked down the street to another pub. Sid sipped a beer and Tex poured in three drinks. They walked out on the street. Six American sailors were crossing the street toward them. "Tex spread his arms and told them to stop right where they were and get back on the other side of the street because this side of the street belonged to us." Tex threatened to swab the deck with them. Horrified, Sid tried to look mean. The sailors decided to skip this fight. "Are you trying to get us killed?" Sid asked.
"I can tell which sailors would and would not fight," said Tex. He had a head full of steam as he walked up the street. Sid "let Tex go ahead without me shortly. Why fight unnecessary skirmishes in a long war?"
"WE WERE," SHIFTY GUESSED, "THE FIRST WHITE PEOPLE TO USE THIS TRAIL." THE hike over the mountains on a trail he could not always see followed a few days paddling in a dugout canoe. While the Americans labored, quickly coming to the last of their strength, the Filipinos carried all of the supplies up the slopes with ease. Their encounters with "bushy- headed" people armed with spears, shields, bows and poison-tipped arrows went well. On the far side of the mountains, they bade farewell to most of their guides, climbed into boats, and began floating down the Agusan River toward the northern coast.
The cities of the northern coast of Mindanao, like Butuan and Buenavista, had large guerrilla presences, but also IJA garrisons. The carefree life of the backcountry gave way to vigilance. On May 5, the team arrived in Medina and was guided to Lieutenant Colonel Ernest McClish, an officer in the U.S. Army before the war and now commander of 110th Division, Tenth Military District of the Mindanao guerrilla force. Colonel McClish took them to the home of Governor Panaez, the "Coconut King of the Philippines," for dinner. They sat down at a table with silver-ware, tablecloths, napkins, and a meal as good as anything in the United States. An eleven-piece orchestra serenaded them. After dinner, McClish gave Shifty a cigar.
The next day, McClish took them all on a long horseback ride to the town of Gingoog. The radio there was out, so they rode on to a guerrilla outpost in Anakan. From there they sent two messages. One went to the office of the Commander in Chief of U.S. Forces in Australia, General Douglas MacArthur; the other went to the Marine Corps' Australian HQ. Making contact with their headquarters was a glorious moment of achievement. No immediate reply was received. In the evenin
g, after enjoying a fine meal in a house with electric lights, Shifty took a moment to remember. That day, May 6, marked the one-year anniversary of the surrender on Corregidor. He and the others gave thanks. The next day the local Chinese community donated clothing for the Americans, and just in time, too, since a number of parties and fiestas awaited. Shifty and the team attended one in the Chinese area before attending a ball celebrating the coronation of a queen. Shifty got a laugh out of wearing a clean pair of coveralls to a formal ball with women in gowns and men in white evening coats.
On May 10, Lieutenant Commander McCoy and Major Mellnik left the team and proceeded to the headquarters of the Tenth Military District in Misamis, under the command of Colonel Wendell W. Fertig. All of the guerrillas on the island reported to Colonel Fertig, including McClish's division. McCoy and Mellnik hoped to send more messages to Australia and to inquire about transportation off Mindanao. After they departed, Ed Dyess went after them. Colonel McClish induced the remainder of the escapees to help him run his operation. He promoted each member of the team and assigned them a job. Shifty became Major Austin Shofner of the 110th Division in the Army of the United States. He set about organizing the guerrillas of Mindanao to fight the occupiers.
MANILA JOHN HAD BEEN ENJOYING HIMSELF IN AUSTRALIA. ALTHOUGH HE DIDN'T say much about it, he did usually have to spend part of each payday paying off debts incurred within the last pay period.13 His buddy J.P. had caused a stir back in March when he allowed his enlistment to expire.14 Morgan had cashed himself out completely, all $452 worth, which some in the 1/7 must have assumed would be spent on a big drunk. J.P. had a reputation for getting into trouble and for sending his hefty poker winnings home to his wife, Katy. J.P.'s close friends knew, though, that Morgan's parents were in desperate circumstances. A mining accident had completely disabled his father; his mother had to provide full-time care of her husband.J.P. may have mustered out of the corps because he was considering going home to help. His steady pay as a sergeant, however, had won out and he reenlisted the next day.
Manila's own relationship with the corps changed soon thereafter, when he received a temporary citation for the Congressional Medal of Honor on May 7, signed by Admiral Chester Nimitz, Commander in Chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet. He did not know much about it--his CO would have told him it was America's highest award for valor--nor did he appreciate how it would change his life. Two weeks later, on the parade ground of the Seventh Marines' camp, the regiment held an awards ceremony attended by General Vandegrift, the former CO of the 1st Marine Division, as well as the new CO, General Rupertus. The month of May heralded the onset of winter in the Southern Hemisphere and it grew quite chilly. Still without their Class A Marine Corps uniforms, the men wore the rough wool Eisenhower jackets with their 1st Marine Division patch sewn on the shoulder.
Sergeant John Basilone's years of service had made the forms and conventions of parades, reviews, and inspections familiar. This time, however, he stood not with his platoon but with a small group who were to receive important decorations. Manila knew most of the guys. Mitchell Paige, who had been a sergeant in charge of a machine-gun squad on the Canal, had been in the corps longer than John and they knew each other well. Paige was also about to receive the Medal of Honor for his actions up near the Matanikau River. Colonel Puller strode up and everyone snapped to attention and saluted. Chesty looked at Mitch and said, "Sergeant Paige, you're senior here, oh yes, now you're a looie." Paige had been promoted to second lieutenant before leaving on the Canal and his officer bars were on his collar. With a smile, Chesty said, "You'll always be a sergeant to me. You know the backbone of the Corps is the noncommissioned officer." Turning to John, he said, "Sergeant Basilone, you'll march next to Paige;" then he lined up the others.15
When the men of the Seventh Regiment were assembled, Lieutenant Colonel Puller led John, Mitchell Paige, and a handful of others out across the field, followed by the Stars and Stripes and the guidon of the Marine Corps. Chesty, striding along with his oddly shaped chest out, had received a Gold Star in lieu of his third Navy Cross. He was proud that so many of his men in the 1/7 were now being recognized. Billie Joe Crumpton was decorated with the Navy Cross. Cecil Evans had a Silver Star pinned on his breast.16 J. P. Morgan and others also received Silver Stars, although not necessarily for the same battle as Basilone.
At the ceremony, Lieutenant Mitchell Paige received the Medal of Honor first.17 Vandegrift read the citation for Platoon Sergeant John Basilone "for extraordinary heroism . . . above and beyond the call of duty," then hung the medal around his neck. Vandegrift told John it was a "great pleasure to deliver the medal" to him in the name of the president of the United States of America.18
Official Marine Corps reporters and photographers roamed at will, capturing the moment.19 They lined up the four winners of the Medal of Honor from Guadalcanal--Paige and Basilone standing next to General Archer Vandegrift and Colonel Mike Edson--for a photo entitled "Medal of Honor Men."s Edson didn't have his medal with him, so he borrowed a ribbon from Paige. The photographers took a picture of the men shaking hands. They staged a photo of the medal being hung around Manila's neck, this time placing the camera at ground level, looking up between the outstretched arms. They took a portrait of Basilone, looking serious, with the blue and white ribbon around his neck.
Back with his platoon, though, Manila loosened up. While the cameramen snapped photos, the reporters asked questions and got their facts right. They read the citations, too. Everybody had to give their hometown addresses. The reporter who wrote a piece about Private Cecil Evans's Silver Star got good quotes from Basilone, who was only too happy to attest to his friend's courage under fire. "What a guy Evans is. He's only nineteen, has curly hair, and runs around barefoot all the time. We call him Peck's Bad Boy."20
To another reporter, John called Dog Company "the best damn company in the world."21 The reporter quickly realized the "facts bear him out," for the company "lays claim to being the most decorated company." Along with John's medal, Dog Company had three Navy Crosses, four Silver Stars, and eleven Letters of Commendation. All the Navy Crosses went to privates first class like Crumpton. Sergeant J. P. Morgan got a Letter of Commendation from Admiral William Halsey. Captain Rodgers, the CO of Dog Company, received a Silver Star. The 1/7 had a commendation from General Vandegrift: their division had earned a Presidential Unit Citation.
At the reporter's behest, all the men of John's platoon gathered around a .30-caliber Browning water-cooled machine gun. John displayed his medal, Billie Joe Crumpton showed his Navy Cross, and Cecil Evans displayed his Silver Star.22 John's medal sat in an oblong box. From a powder blue ribbon with white stars hung a large star-shaped medallion. Inset into the medallion was a strange image: a woman with a shield shoving a guy holding some snakes. All the other guys gawked on cue and the camera flashed.
Before the ceremony ended on May 17, Colonel Chesty Puller saluted Basilone. Of all the hoopla on this day, looking the old warrior in the eye and snapping his fingertips to the edge of his brow meant the most to Manila.23
THE SHAKEDOWN CRUISE OF MICHEEL'S NEW CARRIER, YORKTOWN, GOT OFF TO A hilarious start. The tugs pushed the great ship away from the dock on the morning of May 21 with all of the crew assembled on the flight deck. The bugler began to sound the signals relating to the ritual when an officer grabbed the microphone suddenly and yelled, "You dopey no good sonofabitch! What in the hell did you do that for?"24 He continued to berate the bugler at some length as everyone on the flight deck began to laugh. The officer doing the yelling was Captain J. J. Clark, the commander of Yorktown. This display proved the word already going around about "Jocko" Clark: he demanded perfection and woe to any sailor who failed to provide it.
Yorktown steamed south for Trinidad later that day, escorted by two destroyers and a submarine because the German U-boats had not been eliminated from the waters off the eastern seaboard. Trouble started a few days later, when Captain Clark came down to the flight deck hopping m
ad. Unlike most senior navy officers, Jocko Clark had logged a fair amount of time on a carrier flight deck during his early career. He believed his flight deck had not been "spotted" correctly; in other words, his planes had not been positioned efficiently, and he began shouting instructions to the plane pushers on how he wanted his planes spotted.25 For the next few days, the flight deck officers had their hands full dealing with the captain's demands. Yorktown had two small tractors for use in pushing planes--a novel idea--and these were used to check Clark's flight deck spot against their own.
Since all of the planes were spotted on the stern and took off toward the bow, the deck spot determined the order in which the different types of planes (fighter, bomber, or torpedo) took off. Two other factors mattered, though. Each foot of space saved when creating "the spot," and each minute of time saved while "respotting the deck," made Yorktown a more efficient and more deadly weapon in battle. A few days later, Clark came roaring down from his perch on the island to tell the boys on the flight deck how to do it again. His rounded shoulders and pronounced paunch belied the energy with which he moved. When the captain had it the way he wanted it, he turned to one of his flight deck officers, Lieutenant Henry "Hank" Warren, and said, "Mr. Warren, that's the way to spot a flight deck."
"Joe," Hank Warren asked his assistant, "how much time did that take?"
"About two minutes longer than you, Hank," said Joe.
"How much space did we save?" Hank asked.