by Hugh Ambrose
Jean asked her boyfriend to take her up in an airplane. All her girlfriends had been up. Mike was not enthusiastic about the idea. It was against regulations. He tried to argue that he was not qualified to fly the type of aircraft her friends had ridden in. This got him nowhere. "She pestered me." He told her he did not want to do it. Eventually, though, he relented. One Sunday afternoon he took her out to the flight line and said, " There's your airplane." It was an SNJ. She had expected a plane with a door in the fuselage, as her friends had described. Mike said he had not been checked out in the plane she described, the twin-engine SMB. " The crewman gave her a parachute to put on her and she said, 'What do I do?' "
"Climb on the wing." She looked up at the wing and then shot him a peeved look. She could not get up there herself. The crewman gave her a boost up and onto the wing. "What do I do now?"
"The seat's back there," he said. The wing, however, did not extend quite as far back as the rear cockpit. She could not step into it. To get into the rear seat of the SNJ required the use of footholds and handholds. The parachute hanging off her made it tricky. The crewman gave her a hand and Jean made it into the backseat. When Mike at last came over to explain to her how to buckle herself in and what to do in case of--She cut him off. "Forget it. If you go down, I'll go down . . . don't bother telling me what to do." After they took off Jean found she could not close her canopy, which made it rather windy. All of her friends had ridden in a nice plane with a door. It was the last time Jean asked Mike for a plane ride.
THE ARRIVAL OF ONE HUNDRED VETERANS OF THE BATTLE OF GUADALCANAL INTO Los Angeles on August 25 caught the attention of a reporter for the Seahorse, a publication of the navy's Small Craft Training Center. Interviewing the marines brought the reporter to Manila John. "To Seahorse interviewers, Sergeant Basilone was courteous, although a trifle flustered at all the attention. He is the sort one finds in thousands of high schools across the country--husky, friendly, good company."52 The reporter asked to see his citation for the Medal of Honor, which Manila produced. During the interview, John realized he had not read the citation, so he did so for the first time.53 When asked about "the Jap as a fighting man," he replied, "they're stocky, wiry fighters and they fight for keeps."
Once he got through the Seahorse interview and the Marine Corps processing system, John immediately sent his mother a telegram. It was one sentence: "Please wire 50 dollars immediately."54 The money helped him visit Hollywood the next night. As he walked into the Jade, he saw a girl with flowers in her hair walking out and talked her into staying a while longer. Dorothy worked in Long Beach and they had a fun night.55 The next morning, he left for a marine base outside of San Diego called Camp Elliott.56 The officer he met when he reached Camp Elliott may have mentioned that most every day for the past week the Marine Corps Headquarters in Washington, D.C., had telegrammed, asking for information about his arrival.57
In a lucky coincidence, he found his younger brother George stationed at Elliott as well. George served with the 4th Marine Division. The two brothers spent two days palling around together.58 George knew a lot more about what awaited John and could give his older brother, "Bass," the scoop. Reporters had interviewed all the members of his family, his friends, and his former employers and written articles about him. The leaders of Raritan had gotten together to hold Basilone Day. The county judge, head of the organizing committee, promised a $5,000 bond for John and "a roaring welcome--loud enough to echo in Tokyo."59 According to George, "the town is too small to hold the welcome for you, so they are planning to have it in Duke's Park."60 Duke's Park meant the grounds of the vast estate of the heiress Doris Duke. All of Raritan, Somerville, and the surrounding area wanted to celebrate their hometown hero, whose Medal of Honor "rated a salute from all officers, including General MacArthur."61
On the thirtieth Basilone received his orders. He was to be transferred "immediately by air" to the Marine Barracks, Navy Yard, for "temporary duty" with the USMC's Public Relations Division.62 The Marine Corps prohibited him "from making any statements to the Press or Radio" and directed him "to maintain proper decorum." He was given a generous per diem of $6 a day. He placed a phone call to Dorothy over in Long Beach but missed her.63 He had a plane to catch. It left that afternoon and he landed in Washington, D.C., the next morning at ten thirty a.m. A car raced him to the Navy Yard by eleven a.m. on August 31.
IN EARLY SEPTEMBER, THE WOLVES OF BOMBING TWO FLEW THEMSELVES UP THE East Coast to their next duty station, NAS Quonset Point, in Rhode Island. Located on a peninsula in Narragansett Bay near the small town of North Kingstown, Quonset Point would host Bombing Two as well as the squadrons of fighters and torpedo planes that comprised Air Group Two. Having honed their skills at the individual and squadron levels, the pilots now practiced working with the whole team even as they began to practice for their first carrier landings. The necessity of creating an air group that functioned as a team had been one of the lessons learned by the Enterprise staff on August 24, 1942, in the carrier battle near Guadalcanal. The first occasion for Bombing Two to fly with the other squadrons proved fun for Mike. As directed, the squadron flew in a stepped-up formation. The other squadrons did not. The air group commander, a veteran of carrier battles, came to see them after they landed. "What are you guys doing?!" he asked. Bombing Two flew stepped down from then on. Lieutenant Commander Campbell had to eat a little crow, but he did not hold it against Mike.
AFTER A MONTH OF BEING THE DEPUTY CHIEF OF STAFF OF A GUERRILLA FORCE, Shifty Shofner wanted to do more. He wanted weapons and equipment sent from Australia so that he could lead the guerrillas in attacks against the Japanese. These attacks would not defeat the enemy troops, he knew. Shofner believed the Tenth Army Group on Mindanao, however, could force the Japanese to station two divisions there to protect its hold. The Japanese would have fewer troops available elsewhere; the Filipinos would be inspired and remain allies of America. The man standing in Shifty's way was not Colonel Wendell Fertig but General Douglas MacArthur. MacArthur believed that a large guerrilla raid would only provoke the Japanese into harming thousands of Filipinos, most of whom were farmers armed with machetes. MacArthur wanted them to be spies. He also wanted Fertig's men to give the Filipinos hope of eventual freedom, so MacArthur sent them lots of match-books emblazoned with his likeness and the words "I Shall Return." Austin Shofner believed that MacArthur refused to use the guerrillas because he, the general, found these men to be reminders of his cowardice. MacArthur had fled.
Not all of his fellow escapees saw it the way Shifty did, though. Several of them agreed with army fighter pilot Lieutenant Sam Grashio, who saw no reason to question these orders. When Grashio heard the "bitter remarks about 'Dugout Doug,'" he admitted that the general's departure had been a letdown for the troops and the lack of preparations for war had disgusted him. The situation was more complicated than that, however, and he made some obvious points. President Roosevelt had ordered MacArthur to leave Corregidor, and "it seemed to me mere common sense to save him for the rest of the war rather than let him fall into the hands of the enemy."64 As a pilot, Sam Grashio had been at Clark Field on the day of the attack and had endured the siege of Bataan. "It always seemed to me," Sam concluded, "that the American government and people, rather than MacArthur and his associates, were mainly responsible for the inadequacy of Philippine defenses." The general had kept promising his men on Bataan that reinforcements were on the way because that had been the only way to keep them fighting. Shofner had a hard time arguing with Sam, whose body weight had dropped to eighty-five pounds during the March of Death and imprisonment. He trusted Sam. For his part, Sam admired Shifty's physical strength and his friend's unshakable optimism. These had been essential to their success. Sam and Austin had to avoid the subject of MacArthur while figuring out what they could achieve as guerrillas.
It took a while for Shifty and the other escapees to figure out that the leader of the guerrillas, Colonel Fertig, communicated with Australia on a daily basis
. The colonel had kept it from them because he needed experienced and trained men to run his outfit. Fertig's Tenth Military District was on the front line of the war. He had no intention of letting the HQ in Australia know about the presence of trained infantry officers because he feared they would be recalled.65
WASHINGTON WAS FILLED WITH THE TOP BRASS AND MANILA JOHN BASILONE was introduced to lots of admirals and generals. Although attached administratively to the Marine Barracks, Navy Yard, John reported daily to the director of the Division of Public Relations in the Navy Building. The director and his staff had not cut his orders yet, so some of the work was still in progress. They knew they would send John to New York as soon as possible to begin his work as a bond salesman. They were working on getting him involved in the Third War Loan Drive, which had begun months ago.
The U.S. Treasury Department had organized the Third War Loan Drive in association with the Hollywood Victory Committee, an organization representing the motion picture industry.66 The loan drive was not one thing. It had half a dozen components. An "Airmada" of well-known actors, entertainers, and select military personnel had been organized into a number of "flights," which were staging bond rallies in medium-sized cities. Sabu the Elephant Boy had completed a twenty-six-stop tour.67 The flights raised millions of dollars. The Hollywood Cavalcade, meantime, was traveling to the biggest cities. The cavalcade included Lucille Ball, Fred Astaire, Betty Hutton, James Cagney, Judy Garland, and many more. The cavalcade raised tens of millions of dollars. The actress Lana Turner raised $5.25 million in bonds by selling 105 kisses for $50,000 each. The slogan for all of the components of the Third War Loan Drive was "Back the Attack."68
Before Basilone joined the drive, reporters wanted to interview Manila John. His story had been printed in newspapers across the country since June. The details of his "3-day machine gun rampage" amazed everyone who read it.69 The twelve-hour battle had become seventy-two hours because of a quote by Private Nash W. Phillips, who had served in Basilone's platoon on the Canal. A reporter had found Phillips recovering from his wounds in a navy hospital in San Diego. 70 The details Phillips had added had become part of the official story. "They stormed his position time and again," Phillips had told them, until thirty-eight bodies surrounded Manila John's foxhole. "Finally he had to move out of there--thirty-eight Jap bodies made it kind of hard to fire over the pile!"71 The USMC publicity department had adopted Phillips's quote verbatim, rather than use the facts contained in John's Medal of Honor citation. Months before John's return, it had put on the newswire a portrait of John with the caption: "Sgt. John Basilone was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for extraordinary heroism in the South Pacific. . . . He stuck by his machine gun for 72 hours without food or sleep and is credited with virtual annihilation of a jap regiment."72 Most newspapers included the claim that John was the only enlisted marine to be so honored.
The basic story was good but had gotten cold in the past few months. The reporters had interviewed his family and friends and a grade-school teacher and now it was time to hear from the man himself. The first interview took place in D.C. John said he could not tell the reporters much about "the one night blitz." Speaking with reporters made him uncomfortable. He began to perspire. They asked him what he thought of the enemy. He explained that they ran at the machine guns and concluded, "I don't believe they have the brains needed for victory."73 Trying to explain, he continued. "They looked like a bunch of gorillas rushing us. They ought to have known better than to rush a machine gun that way."74 As the last questions were asked, he stood up and said, " This is worse than fighting Japs."75
It had hardly been a smashing success. No photos were taken. John was wearing the same uniform he had flown to D.C. in because his two seabags had not arrived. Worse, he had diminished the capability of the enemy. The publicists of the navy, marines, and Treasury Department did not want any of its spokespeople to refer to the Japanese as stupid because it diminished the case for buying bonds. The U.S. government needed the money generated by bonds. The navy assigned Lieutenant W. Burns Lee to coordinate John's appearances and to escort him. Burns asked Manila if he had the USMC's dress blue uniform to wear. Although John had once owned a "set of blues," he had changed.76 "What d'ya think I am, Lieutenant," John replied, "a Navy Yard Marine?"77 Put another way, Manila thought that the officers in Washington who pushed papers wore dress blues. Marines whose hands were stained with machine-gun oil wore Class As, the greens, when not in dungarees. He refused to wear the blues. Lieutenant Lee did not force him to wear them. The practice of calling the enemy "stupid" and "gorillas," however, stopped henceforth. As for the "3-day blitz" overstatement, the press release that accompanied John kept it as it was, although it quietly corrected the assertion that John had been the first enlisted marine to be awarded the nation's highest award for valor.78 John was recognized as the only living enlisted man to wear it. The reporters failed to notice, though, that John had not worn the actual medal around his neck. He wore its ribbon bar on his chest.
John and his PR "handler" took the train up to New York and arrived on the afternoon of Friday, September 3, 1943. Unlike Washington, the lights of New York had been dimmed because the lights shone on ships in the harbor and made them targets for German warships.79 He met his parents. They brought with them Alfred Gaburo, Cochairman of the John Basilone Day Committee.80 John had once driven one of Gaburo's laundry trucks. They all had a lot of catching up to do. Gaburo would have described the plans for the upcoming parade. John's parents had to have gushed about the attention the medal had brought to them and their family. In July, the prestigious Columbian Union had invited Salvatore and Theodora to a gala at the Robert Treat Hotel in Newark and presented a plaque to them.81
The recognition of his parents by a group of New Jersey's most respected and influential citizens would have pleased John, although he may not have been suitably impressed. Such a reaction would have provoked his father to get his attention by calling John the name on his birth certificate, Giovanni.82
Giovanni Basilone had grown up in a country that looked down on Italians. White America disliked their religion, their looks, and their social and cultural mores. Although his son had always been called John in public, Salvatore Basilone had been active in organizations like the Sons of Italy, which had celebrated the culture of his homeland. Salvatore, as a man who concerned himself with the relations between the two countries, had known for decades that the goal of America's immigration policy had been to keep immigration from Italy low, while encouraging immigration of those who were more Anglo-Saxon, more Protestant, and more white. His father's bitterness at such injustice was, however, old news for John.
The news Salvatore would have imparted that evening concerned the actions of the government against Italian immigrants since the war against Italy had begun.83 Thousands of Italians had been arrested. Ten thousand Italians had been forced to leave their homes on the West Coast. Fifty thousand were subject to curfews and ordered to carry ID cards. Most of these people lived on the West Coast and had been classified as Enemy Aliens, a group which included all native Italians who had not completed U.S. citizenship.
The government, however, had not issued any information about its enforcement of Executive Order 9066.84 The order signed by the president authorized the government to act against the immigrants so named and--horror of horrors--Italian immigrants were equated with Japanese immigrants. The order also created Enemy Alien Custodians. These custodians had restricted fishermen of Italian ancestry in the waters of New Jersey, New York--up and down the eastern seaboard. Italian railroad workers could not work in certain zones. Working with the FBI, the Enemy Alien Custodians arrested men for violating curfews or having a camera in their apartment. There were stories of FBI men coming to homes in New York in the middle of the night and taking men away. If a famous opera singer like Ezio Pinza could be arrested and held on Ellis Island, no son of Italy could rest easy in America.
The official sanctions ha
d encouraged the growth of unofficial discrimination. Some businesses fired people who spoke in Italian to Italian customers. Others simply refused to hire them.85 All of these realities existed outside of the mainstream media and had therefore become dirty secrets, passed from one immigrant to another. The Italians, the largest foreign- born group in the United States, knew not how to respond. While proud of his heritage, Salvatore Basilone was an equally proud American. He wanted the United States to defeat Italy's dictator, Benito Mussolini, as well as Germany and Japan. Criticizing the government's efforts against those Italians it deemed dangerous would be viewed as unpatriotic. Acknowledging the discrimination was humiliating.
The weight of the world was settling on John's strong shoulders. Sal and Dora and Alfred would have made sure he understood that the story of Manila John Basilone had begun to right these wrongs. In June, when the story had first broken, the navy commander who had briefed the press had said, "I don't fall for all this talk about the Italians being just natural cowards." The United Press International, whose stories ran in newspapers across the country, had pointedly directed its first story at the dictator of Italy, entitling it "Listen, Benito: We're Proud of Buffalo-born Basilone."86 A few days later the reporters had found their way to the hero's hometown. Asked about his son, Sal spoke to the country on behalf of all Italians. "Sure, I'm proud. I love my family and I always worry about Johnny, but I love this country almost as much as I love my son and I want this war finished. If Johnny can help hurry it up, then I'm satisfied."87 Since then, Sal had distanced himself from the groups that celebrated his Italian heritage. Dora had lied to reporters and told them she had been born in Raritan, New Jersey.88 They stressed that three of their sons were serving in the military, Alphonse, John, and George, without mentioning that the latter two's given names appeared on their birth certificates in Italian: Giovanni and Giorgio.89