The Pacific

by Hugh Ambrose

  THE MONTH STARTED OUT ON A GOOD NOTE FOR LIEUTENANT COLONEL Austin Shofner. On July 4, 1945, General del Valle sent him a letter of commendation for his services as provost marshal. "Although the Military Police available were considerably inadequate, you utilized the force available most efficiently. Your methods in directing traffic control and in assisting with the collection of over thirty thousand civilians greatly reduced congestion in the forward areas." The letter of commendation would not be something Shifty hung on his wall or mentioned to friends. It went into his file, though, where it counted as another step forward in his career.

  Plans for the next step in the defeat of Japan had already been developed and Shofner would have received briefings about Operation Downfall, to be commanded by General MacArthur. The projections as to the enemy's intentions and abilities came, of course, from the recent experiences on Iwo Jima, Luzon, and Okinawa. The experience of the Tenth Army also furnished a picture of what awaited the U.S. troops. Leaving out the navy's significant losses off Okinawa's shores, more than seven thousand Americans had been killed in action; more than thirty-one thousand had been wounded; and more than twenty-six thousand had been "non-battle casualties," or lost due to combat fatigue. Estimating the casualties of the next campaign by extrapolating from the Tenth Army experience produced frightful results because so many more divisions would participate in the Battle of Japan.

  While contemplating a dreadful future, Shofner found himself in charge of the mundane. He spent the month of July serving as the president of the court-martial. A rise in the number of infractions being reported signaled the tightening of discipline on veterans and replacements alike. The veterans in the 1/1 and across the division grumbled that the "chicken shit" was starting up again.585 The spit-and-polish formality would have been expected in Hawaii, had they been rotated there. Officers knew that the men's morale was very low and that this stemmed in part from the missed liberty in Honolulu.586 Something more important, however, was at work under the surface. After surviving the biggest and longest battle of the Pacific, the marines found themselves at a dead end. The fact was self-evident. The next time they went into combat, they would be landing on the shore of Tokyo Bay. As a man in Shofner's battalion put it, "No one was going to survive. No marines. No japs."587

  THE MEN OF KING COMPANY WERE ALSO GETTING BRIEFED. THE 1ST MARINE Division would not participate in the first invasion of Japan, scheduled for November. Rather, it would land on the isthmus that creates Tokyo Bay in March of 1946, along with twenty-four other divisions in the largest amphibious assault of all time. Amid descriptions of how this operation would more than double the size of D-day in Normandy came also the news that the first men off the boats and up the bluffs were not expected to survive. Junior officers, like Lieutenant Scotty MacKenzie, were told, "You are expendable."588

  Eugene Sledge knew that he would serve in the next campaign because a "point system" for rotation stateside had been posted. General del Valle had established the system to prevent the onset of a serious morale problem. The system allowed the general to ship out the eight hundred men in the division who had been overseas for thirty months, as well as begin to rotate the more than three thousand who had been with the division for two years. After reviewing the "point system" in light of his one year with the division, Sledge knew that guys like him "won't be released until the war is over." His buddy Snafu had eighty- seven points and shipped out one morning in mid-July.589

  Attempts to make life more enjoyable for the remaining men--by installing lights in the tents, bringing in a USO show, and building the mess hall on a bluff overlooking the South China Sea--could do little to assuage Gene's fear of the approaching apocalypse. His fear fueled an angry hatred of all things Japanese. His fear also found another, more surprising target. He included in one of his letters a check for $225, representing his pay for the Battle of Okinawa and a few of the months preceding it. "A ship worker," he asserted, "makes that much for loafing in two weeks time." The caustic observation followed his decision to cancel his subscription to Leatherneck magazine because he found it to be "too much of a boot- ish, flag-waving affair."an His comments revealed a growing cynicism toward those Americans who seemed happy to dress up the nasty, vicious experience he had just endured with platitudes about glory and courageous sacrifice, while they themselves made little, if any, sacrifice. "I'm just praying that the terrible mess will soon be over because I don't want any more good American blood lost."

  On August 9, Gene heard on the radio "that Russia had declared on Nippon. I surely hope its true--it would really shorten the war." The radio had also announced the second use of a new weapon, an atomic bomb, and "everybody is laying bets on what is going to happen." For his part Gene began to think of his future. "I'll soon be 22, and I'm no closer to getting set for postwar than I was a year ago. So I'm hoping that I can get back to civilian life very soon. Maybe I'm too impatient, but I'm anxious to get started back to college." A lot of marines, particularly his officers in King Company, celebrated the news by getting drunk. Gene got a record player and for once the popular music he disliked (jazz in general and Frank Sinatra in particular) gave way to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker suite.

  "We hear so much scuttlebutt and dope," Eugene admitted, that he was not sure what was going on during the next few days. Daring to hope Japan would surrender could seem by turns possible and ludicrous. On August 13 he heard that Japan had surrendered. "No doubt, the new bomb made up the minds of the yellow men that they are finally beaten." Still, the idea of the Japanese surrendering was not easy to accept with finality. Admiral Nimitz had warned to "beware treachery," because the enemy had long used surrender as a means of killing a few more marines. While a friend of his had Frank Sinatra "crooning through one of his numbers on the record player," Gene and his friends discussed the big question: "if the war does end now . . . how soon will we be home . . . ?"

  THE DAY PRESIDENT TRUMAN ANNOUNCED AMERICA'S VICTORY OVER JAPAN, August 14, Sidney Phillips and his friends "built a gigantic bonfire in the middle of the main street of Chapel Hill." The blaze "set the asphalt pavement on fire and burned up the traffic light hanging in the middle of the intersection."

  LIEUTENANT MICHEEL CELEBRATED THE END OF THE WAR WITH THE OTHER officers at the Naval Auxiliary Air Station in Kingsville, Texas, where he had been transferred a few months previously. He had joined a night fighter training group, the most dangerous specialty a navy pilot could have, given the rudimentary electronics available. The war's end prompted the navy to disband the night fighter group. The immediate needs had ended and the age of the jet engine had dawned. Once again in his navy career, Mike would be "thrown to the winds."

  ACT V

  LEGACIES

  JAPAN'S LEADERS HAD BET THAT IF THEY MADE THE COST OF THE WAR HIGH enough, the United States would relent on its goal of unconditional surrender. The kamikaze represented the logical extension of that policy. The second atomic blast convinced Emperor Hirohito to overrule the other members of the junta and surrender his country. An alternative future became possible. A U.S. invasion of Japan would have had all the savagery of Okinawa or Iwo Jima at five times the scale. The absence of this apocalypse allowed the United States of America to be magnanimous to her defeated foe. Her combat veterans reacted differently, of course, to the peace and prosperity that followed. A man's capacity to let go of his pain, or to recognize the advancement of human civilization that America's victory enabled, was not solely a function of his personality, but also of where, when, and how he had served.

  ON THE SAME DAY ADMIRAL NIMITZ ORDERED OFFENSIVE ACTIONS AGAINST the Japanese to cease, August 14, 1945, Lieutenant Colonel Shofner and other senior officers learned that the 1st Marine Division would sail for China at the end of September. The marines had to accept the surrender of the Japanese forces in China; secure the cities controlled by the Japanese and the stockpiles of Japanese weapons and equipment; and turn it all over to the nationalist forces. The communists in China wou
ld be denied these key locations and essential equipment. Shofner's enlisted men could be expected to hate this assignment; many of them had already begun to assert that the 1st Marine Division--as the first in and the last out--merited a ticker-tape parade in New York City. Others said Tokyo. A lot of the division's officers could also be expected to covet a quick ticket stateside. They certainly had the points for rotation.

  It would have been impossible for any marine or soldier on Okinawa to have served in combat for a longer period than Austin "Shifty" Shofner. He had been there the day it all began. He did not wish, however, to go home. Commanding the 1st Battalion, First Marines, had given him enormous satisfaction. He was a professional marine and he had a black mark on his record. Serving in China would bring him back to where he started and give him another chance to excel. His record changed markedly, however, a few days later. General del Valle awarded Lieutenant Colonel Austin Shofner the Legion of Merit for "exceptionally meritorious conduct." The citation read, in part:

  Assuming command of his battalion in the midst of a critical battle, Lieutenant Shofner, by his tactical skill, untiring determination and outstanding personal courage, directed the activities of his unit to the successful completion of numerous assigned tasks. Although his battalion was reduced in efficiency by severe casualties, his continued personal leadership and supervision in the face of fierce enemy resistance . . . was an inspiration to his men in his command.

  His regimental commander, Colonel Mason, followed up the medal with an excellent fitness report. Although in a two areas, like "cooperation with others," Shofner's performance dipped to the "very good" category, Mason described him in the comments section as "a particularly aggressive officer of the go-getter type." Shifty was back because he had never given up.

  EUGENE SLEDGE REPRESENTED THE MAJORITY OF ENLISTED MARINES WHEN HE wrote in late August, "I got in the Corps to help win the war--it's won and I can't get out any too fast to suit me." The point system for rotation had been changed recently to fit the army's system. Gene received 1 point for each month of service, 1 point for each month of being overseas, 5 points for each decoration, and 5 points for each campaign in which a battle star was issued. A few other factors, like dependent children, added points. The magic number was 85. Gene informed his parents that he had 60 points. "Small compared to Ed, eh?" His older brother was already on his way back home. His buddy R. V. Burgin would depart soon. Gene faced the prospect of being overseas awhile. Remaining on Okinawa would have been acceptable--Gene liked it there and thought so highly of its people he was known to bow to elderly Okinawans.1 He had fought the IJA too long, though, to forgive the Japanese, whom he called "blackhearted." He fervently hoped he would not be sent to Tokyo. On September 1, he submitted his request for a discharge from the USMC, just in case.

  The news of late August and early September--on radio, in newsprint, and in the newsreels--often featured the name of Douglas MacArthur. In a daring move, the general landed at an airfield outside Tokyo in his personal airplane, the word "Bataan" stenciled on its nose, on August 30.2 Millions of Japanese soldiers in the vicinity had not yet officially surrendered. He had stepped down onto the tarmac in a khaki uniform, without a jacket, tie, or medals. He wore aviator glasses and carried a corncob pipe. His cap, famous around the world, was that of the field marshal of the Philippines National Army. Standing on Japanese soil, he said simply, "Melbourne to Tokyo was a long road, but this looks like the payoff."3 A few days later, MacArthur presided over the ceremony in which the representatives of Japan's military government signed the instrument of unconditional surrender. The legal documents that they and the leaders of the Allied powers signed had been printed on a rare parchment found amid the wreckage of Manila. The ceremony took place on the deck of the battleship USS Missouri, lying at anchor in Tokyo Bay and surrounded by the vast U.S. fleet. MacArthur's statements affixed no blame; instead he offered a prayer that "peace be now restored to the world." He expressed the hope that "out of the blood and carnage of the past" a better world would emerge. "Nor is it for us here to meet . . . in a spirit of distrust, malice or hatred. But rather it is for us, both victors and vanquished, to rise to that higher dignity which alone befits the sacred purpose we are about to serve."4

  "Well, now that the war is won," Eugene exclaimed, "who has completely taken over? MacArthur. Nimitz, Halsey, and the Marine generals won the war. Now it's all an army show and the Navy & Corps sit back and smirk while all the Army brass hats eat up the credit." Like many marines, Eugene believed the Central Pacific Campaign, led by Admiral Nimitz, had been more important than the South Pacific Campaign, led by MacArthur.ao The newsreels of MacArthur wading through the surf to return to the Philippines or presiding over the surrender were therefore interpreted as grandstanding by many marines in the field. "I think the Corps has gotten its share of the credit and so has the Air Force, but not the Navy. We sure have a good Navy too. We all hate to see Nimitz left out in the cold after the fine job he and the Navy have done."

  The armed services of the United States, with the enemy defeated, prepared to maintain a military presence in countries across the Pacific, most especially Japan itself. The men of King Company began to receive daily instruction in occupational duties. Eugene not only wondered where he might be sent, but what areas needed to be occupied. "America will keep Okinawa," he hoped, "for it's a good base to watch the nips with. . . . They will behave perfectly and humbly and when they think no one is watching--bingo--they pull some sort of treachery." When each marine in the 3/5 received three new blankets, an overcoat, long underwear, and wool clothing, Gene guessed they would be leaving Okinawa. Soon thereafter he and the other enlisted men learned they were shipping out for duty in China.

  R. V. Burgin, who had long figured he would ship out for Texas any day, got the word on September 15, 1945. He was being transferred stateside. "I almost volunteered to go to China with the 1st Division, and I got to thinking about it and I thought, well hell, I've already been through three battles and I go to China and get run over by a damn rickshaw or something, and get killed . . . that doesn't make sense to me, so I'm going home." He said his good- byes and caught a truck south, to the port area. Two weeks later, his company made its own journey to the port.

  THE FIRST MARINES DEPARTED FOR CHINA AFTER THE SEVENTH MARINES, WHO had landed ashore as assault troops, and before the Fifth Marines. Lieutenant Colonel Austin Shofner's 1/1 boarded USS Attala and sailed west. They disembarked on October 1 at the port of Taku, on the Hai Ho River. Trucks, many of them formerly the property of the Imperial Japanese Army, took them seven miles upriver to the city of Tangku, which they had been told had a population of a hundred thousand, "and they all must have come out to greet us when we marched into the city. We started marching 4 abreast, but were squeezed single file as all those people pressed in, hugging and kissing us."5 The people knew the sacrifices made to defeat Japan and were grateful. Trains took the 1/1 on to Tientsin, a city of more than a million people. The battalion moved along broad, paved streets to an area of the city that had a distinctly Western look. Their quarters had been built by the English and until recently had been used by the Japanese Army as their barracks.

  While the Chinese people showered the marines with gratitude and affection, the ancient civilization fascinated them. The fears of U.S. commanders like Shofner that the fifty thousand Japanese troops stationed in his area might choose to fight proved unfounded. The occupation of China began with a few weeks of problems of logistics and supply, which meant that one of Shofner's first concerns was making sure his troops got fed. With the arrival of the Fifth Marine Regiment, the units of the 1st Division spread out in order to protect a few key cities, their ports, and the railways that connected them. The division HQ and the Fifth Regiment took up residence in Peiping, China's ancient capital city. The First Marines remained in Tientsin, and the Seventh guarded Chingwangtao.ap

  In front of the French Municipal Building, the First Marines accepted the s
urrender of the enemy's military forces stationed in and around Tientsin on October 6. The ceremony took place before a great crowd of Chinese, who filled the streets, the windows, and the rooftops. The officers of the Imperial Army offered their swords to their counterparts and filed off to their camps "to the strains of The Marine's Hymn."6 With the formalities completed, the marines began to inspect the bases and barracks of the Japanese. Without any foot-dragging, the Japanese complied with all instructions, surrendering all material not needed for subsistence. Their prompt cooperation earned them the right to continue to administer themselves in their camps. Each tenth soldier was allowed to keep his rifle and five bullets. The United States had determined that the Japanese needed a few rifles to protect themselves from angry mobs of Chinese.

  The animosity of the Chinese to the defeated foe grew into an attack on October 13 in Tientsin. The First Marines shoved their way in and separated the two sides. In this and other actions, the United States enforced its policy. The Japanese were going to be repatriated as quickly as possible. In the meantime, retribution for their crimes against the people of China would not be exacted by angry civilians. One afternoon, two well-dressed Japanese gentlemen appeared before Shofner at his headquarters. They had asked to speak with the marine commander and were brought before his desk. They introduced themselves to him, explaining that they had been officials of the Japanese consulate before the surrender. The two men had come to say, " Thank you very, very much for protecting our people."