by Jon E. Lewis
As I talked this over with Davies, my Chief of Staff and my mainstay, in these difficult times, we thought we saw a chance of striking back at the 33rd Japanese division. True, our 1st Burma Division, never really a division in either establishment or equipment, was at the moment incapable of action, but it was definitely recovering in the peace of Mount Popa, where we had sent it. In a week or two we might hope to have it back in the field at a strength, of say, a brigade. If we could get the 17th Division, still in Taungdwingyi, we might, with the Chinese 38th Division and anything else we could scrape up, try a counter-stroke. We were always building up our house of cards, Davies and I, and seeing it fall down – but we went on. So we renewed our attempts to persuade Burma Army to let us take the 17th Division from Taungdwingyi. Meanwhile the 38th Division and, as usual, 7 Armoured Brigade covered the 1st Burma Division as it lay gasping but not dying.
A number of our badly wounded had of necessity been left in the ambulances when the Burma Division had finally broken out. A young gunner officer volunteered to go back to discover their fate. Under cover of darkness he did so. The ambulances were still standing on the track, but every man in them had had his throat cut or been bayoneted to death.
RAID ON TOKYO, 18 APRIL 1942
Colonel James Doolittle, USAAF
The bombing of Tokyo was an act of American defiance in the face of relentless Japanese advance in the Pacific. It was also a feat of airmanship, since it involved flying B-25 bombers off an aircraft carrier (the USS Hornet), something widely considered to be impossible. The raid was led by Colonel Doolittle, whose personal report is below.
Took off at 8:18 AM ship time.
Take-off was easy. Night take-off would have been possible and practicable.
Circled carrier to get exact heading and check compass. Wind was from 300° plus-minus.
About a half hour later joined by AG 40–2292, Lt. Hoover, pilot, the second plane to take off.
About an hour out passed a Japanese camouflaged naval surface vessel of about 6,000 tons. Took it to be a light cruiser.
About two hours out passed a multi-motored land plane headed directly for our flotilla and flying at about 3,000 ft.–2 miles away – multi-motored bomber-gunner.
Passed and endeavored to avoid various civil and naval craft until land fall was made north of Grubo Shama(?).
Was somewhat north of desired course but decided to take advantage of error and approach from a northerly direction, thus avoiding anticipated strong opposition to the west.
Many flying fields and the air full of planes north of Tokyo. Mostly small biplanes apparently primary or basic trainers.
Encountered nine fighters in three flights of three. This was about ten miles north of the outskirts of Tokyo proper.
All this time had been flying as low as the terrain would permit.
Continued low flying due south over the outskirts of and toward the east center of Tokyo.
Pulled up to 1,200 ft., changed course to the southwest and incendiary-bombed highly inflammable section. Dropped first bomb at 1:30.
Anti-aircraft very active but only one near hit.
Lowered away to housetops and slid over western outskirts into low haze and smoke.
Turned south and out to sea.
Fewer airports on west side but many army posts.
Passed over small aircraft factory with a dozen or more newly completed planes on the line. No bombs left. Decided not to machine gun for reasons of personal security.
Had seen five barrage balloons over east central Tokyo and more in distance.
Passed on out to sea flying low.
Was soon joined again by Hoover who followed us to the Chinese coast.
Navigator plotted perfect course to pass north of Yoki Shima.
Saw three large naval vessels just before passing west end of Japan. One was flatter than the others and may have been a converted carrier.
Passed innumerable fishing and small patrol boats.
Made land fall somewhat north of course on China coast.
Tried to reach Chuchow on 4495 but couldn’t raise.
It had been clear over Tokyo but became overcast before reaching Yoki Shima.
Ceiling lowered on coast until low islands and hills were in it. Just getting dark and couldn’t live under overcast so pulled up to 6,000 and then 8,000 ft. in it. On instruments from then on though occasionally saw dim lights on ground through almost solid overcast. These lights seemed more often on our right and pulled us still farther off course.
Directed rear gunner to go aft and secure films from camera (unfortunately they were jerked out of his shirt front where he had put them, when his chute opened).
Decided to abandon ship. Sgt. Braemer, Lt. Potter, Sgt. Leonard and Lt. Cole in order. Left ship on A.F.C.E., shut off both gas cocks and I left. Should have put flaps down. This would have slowed down landing speed, reduced impact and shortened glide.
All hands collected and ship located by late afternoon of 19th.
Requested General Ho Yang Ling, Director of the Branch Government of Western Chekiang Province to have a lookout kept along the seacoast from Hang Chow bay to Wen Chow bay and also have all sampans and junks along the coast keep a lookout for planes that went down at sea, or just reached shore.
Early morning of 20th four planes and crews, in addition to ours, had been located and I wired General Arnold, through the Embassy at Chungking, “Tokyo successfully bombed. Due bad weather on China Coast believe all airplanes wrecked. Five crews found safe in China so far.”
Wired again on the 27th giving more details.
Discussed possibility of purchasing three prisoners on the seacoast from Puppet Government and endeavoring to take out the three in the lake area by force. Believe this desire was made clear to General Ku Cho-tung (who spoke little English) and know it was made clear to English-speaking members of his staff. This was at Shangjao. They agreed to try purchase of three but recommended against force due to large Japanese concentration.
Left airplane about 9:20 (ship time) after about 13 hours in the air. Still had enough gas for half hour flight but right front tank was showing empty. Had transferred once as right engine used more fuel. Had covered about 2,250 miles. Mostly at low speed, cruising but about an hour at moderate high speed which more than doubled the consumption for this time.
Bad luck:
(1) Early take-off due to naval contact with surface and air craft.
(2) Clear over Tokyo.
(3) Foul over China.
Good luck:
(1) A 25 m/h tail wind over most of the last 1,200 miles.
Take-off should have been made three hours before daylight, but we didn’t know how easy it would be and the Navy didn’t want to light up.
Dawn take-off, closer in, would have been better as things turned out. However, due to the bad weather it is questionable if even daylight landing could have been made at Ghuchow without radio aid.
Still feel that original plan of having one plane take off three hours before dusk and others just at dusk was best all-round plan for average conditions.
Other ideas and impressions were discussed personally with Col. Cooper.
Should have kept accurate chronological record.
Should have all crew members instructed in exact method of leaving ship under various conditions.
JAMES H. DOOLITTLE
Airplane AC 40-2344-B-25-B
BOOT CAMP: THE MAKING OF A MARINE, VIRGINIA, USA, 1942
William Manchester, USMC
Astonishingly, I adored Parris Island. Boot camp is a profound shock to most recruits because the Corps begins its job of building men by destroying the identity they brought with them. Their heads are shaved. They are assigned numbers. The DI is their god. He treats them with utter contempt. I am told that corporal punishment has since been banned on the island, but in my day it was quite common to see a DI bloody a man’s nose, and some boots were gravely injured, though I know of none who actua
lly died. I recall being baffled later when Patton was reprimanded for slapping a GI. All of us had endured much more than that. The gentlest punishments were those for dropping a rifle (sleeping on eight of them) and for eating candy (carrying an oozing mass of chocolate for two days). If the boot called it “candy” he would have been punished further, the proper expression being pogey bait. The Corps had its own language, and boots were required to learn it, just as the inhabitants of an occupied country must learn the conqueror’s tongue. A bar was a slopchute, a latrine a head; swamps were boondocks, and field boots, boondockers. A rumor was scuttlebutt, because that was the name for water fountains, where rumors were spread; a deception was a snow job, gossiping was shooting the breeze, information was dope, news was the scoop, confirmed information was the word. You said “Aye, aye, sir,” not “Yes, sir.” The nape of the neck was the stacking swivel, after a rifle part. An officer promoted from the ranks was a mustang. Your company commander was the skipper. You never went on leave; you were granted liberty, usually in the form of a forty-eight or a seventy-two, depending on the number of hours you could be absent. If you didn’t return by then, you were over the hill. Coffee was Joe; a coffeepot, a Joe-pot. Battle dress was dungarees. A cleanup of barracks, no matter how long it lasted, was a field day; a necktie was a field scarf drummers and trumpeters were field musics. Duffle bags, though indistinguishable from those used by GIs, were seabags. To be under hack meant to be under arrest. To straighten up was to square away; a tough fighter was a hard-charger; underwear was skivvies; manipulating people was called working one’s bolt. Lad was a generic term of address for any subordinate, regardless of age. One of my people, a twenty-eight-year-old Vermont school principal, was known, because of his advanced age, as “Pop.” An officer five years his junior would summon him by snapping, “Over here, lad.”
Some of these terms have crept into the language since World War II, but no one outside the service knew them then. Boots had to pick them up fast. They were courting trouble if they described their combat hardware as anything but 782 gear, that being the number of the form you had to sign as a receipt. It was equally unwise to call a deck a “floor,” a bulkhead a “wall,” an overhead a “ceiling,” a hatch a “door,” or a ladder “stairs.” Every Marine was “Mac” to every other Marine; every U.S. soldier was a “doggie” and was barked at. The Corps’ patois was astonishingly varied. To “sight in” or “zero” was to determine, by trial and error, the sight setting necessary to hit a bull’s-eye with a given weapon. “Snap in” could mean sighting and aiming an unloaded rifle; it could also mean breaking into, or trying out for, a new job, somewhat like the army’s “bucking for.” As a noun, “secure” described an outdated movement in the manual of arms; as a verb, it signified anchoring something in place or ending an activity – thus, when the Battle of Tarawa was won, the island was “secure.” “Survey” was even more flexible. It could mean, not only a medical discharge from the Corps (anyone feigning combat fatigue was “snapping in for a survey” ), but also retirement from the Corps, disposing of worn-out clothing or equipment, or taking a second helping of chow. There was even a word for anything which defied description. It was “gizmo.”
On Parris Island these and all other customs of the boot’s new way of life were flouted at great risk. You were told that there were three ways of doing things: the right way, the wrong way, and the Marine Corps way. The Corps way was uncompromising. Failure to salute your superiors – including private first class – brought swift retribution. The worst discipline I saw came during floodlit midnight calisthentics. In one common exercise we paired off; each boot hoisted his rifle as you would hoist a battering ram and placed the butt against his buddy’s forehead. The buddy would touch the butt and duck. The man with the rifle was supposed to try to strike his forehead before the other man could drop, but since you knew you were going to reverse roles, the sensible course was to let him get out of the way. Enter the vengeful noncom. He put a rifle butt against the offender’s forehead and slugged him before there was time to dodge. The boot who merely suffered a concussion was lucky.
How could I enjoy this? Parts of it, of course, I loathed. But the basic concept fascinated me. I wanted to surrender my individuality, curbing my neck beneath the yoke of petty tyranny. Since my father’s death I had yearned for stern discipline, and Parris Island, where he himself had learned discipline a quarter-century earlier, gave it to me in spades. Physically I was delicate, even fragile, but I had limitless reservoirs of energy, and I could feel myself toughening almost hourly. Everything I saw seemed exquisitely defined – every leaf, every pebble looked as sharp as a drawing in a book. I knew I was merely becoming a tiny cog in the vast machine which would confront fascism, but that was precisely why I had volunteered. Even today, despite the horrors which inevitably followed, I am haunted by memories of my weeks as a recruit. It is almost like recalling a broken marriage which, for one divorced partner, can never really end.
TALES OF THE SOUTH PACIFIC: A GI WRITES HOME, MARCH 1942 – JANUARY 1943
Sergeant B. J. Kazazkow, US Army
March 21, 1942
Dear Mom:
We just enjoyed a very mild hurricane – the only damage done being the countryside made ideal for the growth of hordes of mosquitoes. I hate them so that when I manage to get one alive, I torture and maim him – then bury him alive. The war has made me hard and cruel!
Now for the local news – the sun beats down – as usual –and when it gets hot enough – a nice cool shower comes along. Between the incessant combination everything I own, either rusts, or turns greenmoldy. Constant cleaning of equipment is, therefore, in order.
Sept. 22, 1942
Dear Mom:
Today a big vicious sea bass, mouth agape, sped like a bullet upon his prey, a small mallett. As he sped into range, I held my breath, squeezed, and then let fly. Stunned, he turned to go – and crash! I let him have another charge – and lo and behold we had fish steak – baked, garnished, and savory, for dinner. I tell you, this place is a fisherman’s paradise. So what? It isn’t the first fish dinner we blasted out of the sea, but never before a sea bass, the size and taste of that one.
Some days ago I spent a solid day up in the nearby hills, trying to chase a deer or two – being anxious for a taste of venison again. All day, mind you, and got not a scent. Yesterday morning, with breakfast on the fire, two of the elusive creatures popped up in a nearby pasture – grazing to their hearts content – so-o we sneaked up on them, and fell upon them, blazing away, and got not a hit – they led us a merry chase, finally we lost them, and went back to our French toast, cereal and coffee. No venison. Deah, Deah!
Sounds more like a rich man’s holiday than a war – no? Feeling top-hole, hope you are too.
Love and kisses,
Benny
Jan. 8, 1943
Dear Mom:
So it’s come – 1943, imagine being overseas for nearly a whole year – or at least it will be on January 23rd. On that day last winter we left New York – for parts unknown. We could have ended up in a much worse place, believe me. And time has flown, more rapidly than I ever thought possible, it seems like several weeks, instead of twelve months, since we landed.
And we landed looking for trouble, and we’re still looking – and I don’t think we’ll ever find any here.
The past few nights I haven’t been sleeping well, and I keep having dreams about you and home, and it’s no good for my morale. I get very homesick, poor boy that I am. . . . I suppose I’ll visit you again, in my dreams tonight, and you might leave some milk and cake on the table for me.
Goodnight . . .
Your loving son,
Benny
HOME FRONT: “JIM CROW” IN THE ARMY
Private Milton Adams, 240 Quarter Master’s Battalion
Adams writes to Warren Hastie, the US Government’s adviser on “Colored Affairs” .
Pvt. Milton Adams
Post Stockade
Camp Livingston, La.
May 13, 1942
Dear Mr. W. H. Hastie:
I am private Milton Adams of Co. B. 240th Q. M. Bn of Camp Livingston, La. I inlisted in the army Oct 17, 1942, in Chicago, Ill. And since I been in the Army, I never had any Trouble in the Army in or out of it in my life, until I came to Camp Livingston. I am asking for the help of the N.A.A.C.P. And the Crisis. I am not writing anything against the United States Army. But I am going to tell you what the White officers are doing to us races Soldiers down hear [sic] in camp Livingston, La. Since they can’t very well hang us, they take the next steps, which is court martial, and that is better know as rail-roading. Now you don’t stand a chance, before them. They are just like a lynch mob with a neggro to hang. Well they do not want you down hear in the Army, and I did not ask to come down hear I was sent down hear. Well my trouble starter when they found out that I was from Chicago, and I have had a bad deal every since I been hear, I have tried to get away from hear, But it was the same old story. When we finde some places for you to go, we will let you go. Well my Commanding Officer did not like me because, I ask him not to use the word niggers, and he saide I was one of those smart nigger from up north. I was tried once for a offmce, and given 30 days and a $12.00 fine. Now after I had finish my sentences, they saide they are going to try me over again. I wish you would look into my case. I thought they could not try any person a second time for the same offince. I really taken all the punishment I can take I could not get a three day pass or a furlo since I been in the army, until my mother pass away in April. They have just about rob me out of very pay day, for things I have never had. There are so many more case like this, a unfair chance. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t want do the wrong thing, so I am asking for help. But I am not going to take any more of these unfair trials, because I did three months in the stockade once for something I did not have any thing to do with. It was because I was from Chicago, and thats way every trial I ever had is base on the fact that I come from Chicago. So I whish you look into this case, because I can prove everything I am telling you. I will look forward to a answer from you in few days.