The ocean looked just the same. Indeed the waves and wind were hauntingly familiar, although the wind was blowing in a different direction than on the day I was shot down.
The Japanese had gotten from their historical records a point where my plane went into the water. So we flew the path my plane flew, saw the place where my target had been, then turned out to sea simulating the path that my disabled TBF [Avenger] followed before I jumped and it crashed.
We circled the crash point then proceeded to Chi Chi’s heliport where I was given a fantastic welcome.
The Mayor led the welcoming delegation. The school kids turned out waving Japanese and American flags. The old people of the village cheered and waved.
And what was I thinking? Well, I was thinking that 58 years ago a young Naval aviator, just turned 20 years old, was dropping bombs on some of the people welcoming me now. Today these people cheer not me but the USA. That I had been President of the United States, the first ever to visit the Bonin Islands, helped with the enthusiasm factor—of that I am sure.
So the visit was not only a very personal, emotional visit of remembrance but it was also a visit that highlighted reconciliation between our two countries.
I expect some families who lost loved ones in World War 2 might not share my view on the importance of reconciliation, about forgetting the brutal past; but given the importance of the U.S.-Japan relationship and Japan’s commitment to democracy and freedom I am sure I am right. And, besides, isn’t it good to heal old wounds?
After our welcoming ceremony at a heliport, we boarded a launch for the 30-minute boat ride to the place in the ocean where my plane went down and I went into the water.
The land seemed very, very close. I have a recollection that I saw my chute blow up on an island. Over the years I have wondered how accurate my memory might be.
But now in 2002 when I climbed into a little rubber dinghy and paddled away from the boat that brought us to the site and looked towards ashore I thought, “Well maybe my memory was accurate. Maybe I did see my chute blow ashore. Maybe old age has not made me do what so many old guys do, namely, dramatize one’s own role in events.”
At the site I was handed two bouquets of flowers, these to be dropped into the ocean in memory of my lost crewmen.
CNN, doing a major documentary on my visit, had their cameras at the ready; and I wondered for an instant if this gesture would seem corny or insincere. I went alone to the bow of the boat, threw the flowers into the sea and then watched the current take them away. It felt right. I felt closer to my friends. I think it didn’t appear insincere or too dramatic.
As mentioned above I climbed off the stern of the boat into a rubber raft, bigger than the one I was in when rescued by Finback. I paddled away all by myself. I was in a sense trying to relive what went before, but none of the fear and sickness and prayer came back. I thought I would get emotional in that little boat, but I didn’t. I did think about the fate of White and Delaney, but I do that a lot anyway. Of course, drifting in my little rubber dinghy I did count my blessings.
And again I wondered why God spared my life and their lives were taken. In those few minutes adrift in the waters off Chi Chi Jima I thought about my luck, about my own good fortune, about the wonderful life I have had.
We went back to the harbor where I was honored at a huge lunch given by Mayor Miyazawa and other town officials. Along the way the little flags came out again while people, young and old, waved and made me feel welcome.
Yesterday afternoon I went to high spot above the bay and there met a Japanese man who claimed that he actually saw me being rescued by Finback. He had been working nearby and was told that an American plane was down. He rushed to the cliff where now there is a fence and a regular viewing stand, and from there he and another man saw me in my raft and saw Finback come up, pick me up, and then go down again.
The man’s name is Atasaki.24 He also befriended a captured American pilot. This Marine aviator was shot down and captured shortly after my encounter with fate.
The Marine pilot was actually working with Atasaki monitoring radio broadcasts and translating for the Japanese. I expect he dissembled, but nevertheless Atasaki got to know this Texas Marine pilot very well. They became friends. They took baths in the same deep tub. They slept near each other in a huge concrete reinforced bunker.
One day American planes came again and bombed the island. According to Atasaki, Vernon,25 the Marine pilot, raised his fist waving at the planes overhead and jokingly said something to the effect that those sons of bitches had almost killed him.
Several days later as Atasaki and Vernon were sharing a cool breeze, drinking coffee up against the bunker, some Japanese Naval personnel came around the corner, beckoned the Marine pilot to go with them. Vernon and Atasaki looked at each other. They knew what Vernon’s fate would be. They said farewell to each other as the Marine was led back down the hill to be executed.
Vernon was taken to the spot right next to where I had lunch yesterday. He was told to kneel. He loosened his collar to make it easier for his executioner and he was beheaded.
Atasaki told me “I loved Vernon. I tried to figure out how to honor his memory, so I took his name. My first name is now Vernon.”26
On this trip I heard nothing about the cannibalism practiced on captured American airmen by the Commander of the forces on Chi Chi, a man later tried by a War Crimes tribunal and executed for his horrible crimes. In preparation for this trip I read that livers and thighs were eaten, done so to convey to the soldiers how tough the Commander was. I am told that the Japanese are very embarrassed by what happened. It is understandably never discussed.
At last night’s dinner I sat next to an SB2C dive-bomber pilot who was flying off the carrier Hornet when his plane was shot down over Chi Chi. He parachuted into a bay right near the center of the main town. He was captured and tortured. They hung him by his arms from a tree. The pain was horrible. Then they took him and staked him out near a building, which they felt would be targeted and attacked by our own planes. Finally they sent him to prison camp in Japan. He was the last American POW to leave Chi Chi Jima alive. The rest were tortured and executed.
Why were some lives spared while others were taken?
I am writing this aboard our Challenger in flight to Tokyo from Iwo. It has taken us two hours up to now, so very soon we land back near Tokyo. I will call on Prime Minister Koizumi to thank him for having me as a guest of the Japanese government, thanking him for helping me fulfill this dream of going back to Chi Chi.
Was the trip worth it? Yes, yes indeed in so many wonderful ways.
I hate the overused word “closure,” but it does apply here as I think back to my own experience as a young pilot.
I, of course, will carry with me until I die, my concerns about Ted White and John Delaney. My feeling of responsibility has perhaps been tempered a little as a result of this visit. I am not sure why. But I know it will never ever go away completely.
One thing that helped in some strange way was when I was talking to Bill Connell, the dive-bomber pilot referred to above, I asked what happened to him. He told me of his SB2C being hit by anti-aircraft fire. I asked what happened to his crewman. He said, “He never got out of the plane.” I wonder if he carries with him that same feeling of concern that I do.
Come fall CNN will air a detailed documentary of this return to Chi Chi. I have enjoyed working with Paula Zahn and her team. The bottom line is this—I am glad that this trip will be documented, the tapes all going to my Library at A&M. But for me, the documentary is not what this trip was about. It was far more personal than that.
Next year, James Bradley, prize-winning author of Flags of our Fathers, a marvelous book about the seven men who raised the flag on Mt. Suribachi and about the terrible battle for Iwo, will be coming out with a new book about Chi Chi and American pilots shot down there. Bradley who has done a lot of research, was most interesting. His book Flyboys will trace the lives of seven
aviators downed over Chi Chi. I think he is working my little episode with death into the book in some way, too.27
Hugh, the return was very personal to me. I had some quiet time to think and wonder—to remember and even to forget.
Now back home to family. There I will get on with my life and think about my next and only other adventure—the parachute jump on my 80th birthday—June 12, 2004.
I am a very lucky man, Hugh, but the nice thing about that is I do know it and I appreciate the trials and tribulations, the ups and downs with the defining words emerging now as “lucky”, “happy”, and “blessed”.
Love to all Sideys,
George
I wrote this essay about July 4 at the request of James Bradley, for a project he was doing.
July 5, 2002
RANDOM THOUGHTS BY #41 ON JULY 4TH, 2002
This fourth of July was special because on everyone’s mind was Sept. 11, 2001.
I started my day by reading the lesson at our outdoor church service. St. Anne’s by the sea, our lovely summer chapel was literally overflowing with people. Patriotism knew no bounds. The minister, M.L. Agnew, led the congregation in patriotic songs. These were interspersed with the regular Sunday communion ritual. The sea was calm and the very tranquility of the normally restless sea, next to which this outdoor chapel sits, added to the majesty of the day.
Afterwards we came back to our beloved point of land. Our flags fly there all the time. Lit at night they serve as beacons for our own family, and others in our little community have told me that they love to see the flags flying. Yesterday it was the Texas flag, the Maine flag, and, of course, Old Glory at the top of the flag pole.
Today when the President arrives we will add the Presidential flag. It will fly above the yard arms just below the American flag.
I did think about the flag raising at Mt. Suribachi. I thought about that feeling of wonder and joy I had when, many years after the horrible battle on the sands of Iwo, I was allowed to raise the American Flag right in front of Japanese officers and men within a few feet of where the “Flag of our Fathers” was raised 57 years ago. I also thought of how lucky I was to be alive, how blessed I am to have such a warm and loving family.
At church I thought of the many problems facing our President as he governs this nation. I thought of the war against terror, about the troubled situation in the Middle East, about the threats of more terrorist incidents that might befall our country. I counted my many blessings and prayed that God will spare our nation more tragedy and that God will continue to give strength to our President.
In the evening we went out aboard a large boat owned by friends. We watched the fireworks. And again patriotism and love of country abounded. I hope the young ones with us on that boat will always appreciate how lucky they are to be Americans.
I wrote this for Newsweek magazine when my great friend Ted Williams died.
July 5, 2002
I’ll never forget when Ted accompanied me to a big sports show in Manchester, New Hampshire. I was running for President but nobody could care less. They just wanted to shake the hand of the great Ted Williams.
When his wonderful son John Henry Williams called me last Friday morning to tell me that his great Dad had passed away, my heart was full of grief. Ted Williams was 83, but he will always be remembered as “The Kid.”
This greatest of ball players was a close friend to me and to my family. It’s not just that he was a strong supporter back when I was in the political wars. (After I left the political scene, Ted strongly supported both the President and the Governor of Florida.) More importantly, he was a friend. He was a loyal guy, a good man. When I was a young high school student, a true Red Sox fan back then, I worshiped the ground Ted walked on. So did every other baseball fan. Ted Williams was simply the best hitter in baseball. He knew it, and his confidence at the plate was contagious. Later on, Ted became one of the best fly-casting fishermen in the world. As in baseball, excellence was the key word there.
I also loved the way Ted stood up to the sporting press. He called them as he saw ’em. And he did not hesitate to tell off those whom he felt had been unfair to him or to his beloved Red Sox. He did things his way. Got a home run in his last at-bat, and didn’t tip his hat.
Ted showed courage at the plate, putting his average on the line instead of sitting to protect it. But beyond that, Ted served his country in two wars. (Lost more than four seasons in the prime of his career, in the process.) As a Marine pilot he set a tremendous example for other celebrities in America. He believed in service to country, and indeed he served with honor. While many celebrities found ways to avoid real service, Ted was right there, out front, flying fighter planes.
Long after Ted left Fenway Park, his magic lived on. When he came to the White House to receive a Presidential medal, the entire staff was agog. It was as if he had just finished his record shattering .406 season.
Ted has been fighting illness for a long time. Now he is at peace. His friends will mourn. All baseball fans will say, “Ted, we honor you as the best hitter baseball has ever produced.”
We Bushes will say, “In Ted’s passing, we have lost a true and loyal friend.” Our most sincere condolences go to Ted’s son, John Henry Williams, and to the rest of his family.
Of course there still are heroes. Ted Williams was a true hero in baseball and in life.
I wrote these remarks for the Arab American Cultural & Community Center Seventh Annual Unity and Friendship Gala in Houston.
November 2, 2002
I am here tonight to pay my respects to the Arab American community, and to thank this community center for all you do to benefit our Houston community. . . .
I [asked if I] could make a few remarks before dinner. At 78, I need my rest; and, besides, there was an ugly rumor circulating that the chef here was going to serve broccoli. . . .
Since leaving the Presidency, and especially since our son was elected President, I have tried to stay out of the public eye. I don’t do op-ed pieces, or press conferences; and I darn sure stay out of the shouting matches that we see so often on TV these days.
What I do is sit in front of my TV set and complain and cuss and use that clicker that drives Barbara crazy. I don’t recommend this to you very active, much younger people, but at my age I enjoy this a lot.
Every once in a while I will speak out, but only when I feel something deep in my heart and only when I am convinced that my speaking out will not complicate the life of our President. I had my chance and was given his full support. Now we have a role reversal, and I am very happy to support him in every way.
I wanted to speak here to condemn intolerance, to condemn the stereotyping that has hurt so many American families, adults and children alike.
I reject the tendency to condemn Arabs in general or an entire religion in particular because of the extreme views of some extremists who smear the good name “Muslim.”
I am not here to single out one or two misguided critics of Islam but rather to say how offensive I find the relentless attacks on Arabs.
Some evangelical Christians in this country have made inflammatory statements about Islam. I am very glad that Jerry Falwell corrected the record and apologized for his remarks that caused so much grief, so much hurt in many Arab countries.
But to be fair here, I have seen terrible inflammatory statements made by some Mullahs about our country and about other religions.
I would say that it would be grossly unfair to judge Islam by the extreme rantings of some radical Mullahs, just as it would be grossly unfair to judge Christianity by some of its intolerant practitioners here and abroad.
The 9/11 attacks should not be used by any American to condemn all Muslims and certainly not to teach hatred towards Arabs.
Arab Americans condemn terrorism and yet often they get stereotyped right here in Houston, right here in America. This must not be.
Al Qaida extremists are evil. I hope we can all agree on that. They are
our enemy. They have brought death and destruction to our society, killing the innocent to achieve their dishonorable goals.
What bothers me today is that, because all the 9/11 terrorists had Arab surnames, many Americans seem quick to condemn Arabs in general.
Since 9/11, I have felt there is a concerted effort in at least one of our great newspapers and in some political quarters to make an enemy out of Saudi Arabia.
Saudi Arabia is not our enemy. They have been our friend for many years. And so have the other Gulf countries, and Egypt and Jordan, too. Their governments and vast majorities of their people were as offended by 9/11 as you and I were.
I remember back when the Shah of Iran was vilified in our media and by some in our Congress. The Shah was pushed out and replaced by radical Mullahs who preached hatred of our country. We were and I am afraid still are, in their eyes, The Great Satan. I hope and believe that someday we will have improved relations with Iran. The people there do not hate us.
The 9/11 attacks should not be used by believers of any faith to condemn the prophet Muhammad or the peace-loving leaders of Islam today.
After Jerry Falwell apologized for his unfortunate remarks about Muhammad, the deputy head of the Islamic Lama Gathering, a Sheikh Zaeed, said Falwell’s remarks were a huge campaign against Muslims coming from the Bush Administration.
The President spoke to the nation about the need for tolerance yet his administration is attacked like this, thus proving that intolerance often begets intolerance; hatred begets hatred.
And insidious lies often go unchallenged.
Inflammatory statements from here hurt us in the Muslim world, the Arab world; and inflammatory statements from people like Osama Bin Laden or Sheikh Zaeed increase hatred here for Muslims in particular and Arabs in general. So grossly unfair is this.
Though his unfortunate remarks caused great concern in many countries, Falwell apologized. I have seen no such apology for the vicious attacks on America from the radicals abroad.
When Oklahoma City’s Federal building was blown up, many Americans hastened to the conclusion that this must have been the evil work of an “Arab terrorist.”
All the Best, George Bush: My Life in Letters and Other Writings Page 72