U.S. Navy, Press and Radio Release. “Commanding Officer Praises Negro Personnel Who Served at Port Chicago After Explosion Monday Night, July 20, 1944.” Washington, DC: World War II Command File, Operational Archives Branch, Naval Historical Center.
U.S. Naval Magazine Port Chicago, California. “Station Order 10-45.” 17 February 1945. Selected Ammunition Depots, Volume 2. Washington, DC: World War II Administrative History, Navy Department Library, Naval Historical Center.
U.S. Navy Twelfth Naval District, Records of Proceedings of a Court of Inquiry (Finding of Facts, Opinion and Recommendations). Convened at the U.S. Naval Magazine, Port Chicago, California, July 21). 1944. San Bruno, CA: U.S. National Archives, Pacific Sierra Region.
War Diaries, Twelfth Naval District, December 1942–November 1944. San Bruno, CA: National Archives’ Federal Record Center.
War Time History of the U.S. Naval Magazine, Port Chicago, California, December 5, 1945, in Selected Depots Vol. 2. World War II Administrative History #127-B, Navy Historical Center, Washington, DC.
Oral Histories
Edgar R. Huff. Washington, DC: History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1975.
Hall, Obie. Quantico, VA: Archives and Special Collections, Library of the Marine Corps.
Little, Robert D. Quantico, VA: Archives and Special Collections, Library of the Marine Corps.
Montford Point Marine Interviews (the nation’s first African American Marines).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is a work of nonfiction based on information contained in war diaries, reminiscences, trial transcripts, letters, scrapbooks, memoirs, self-published books, oral histories, and stories related to me by veterans and their surviving family members and friends. While every attempt has been made to faithfully reconstruct historical events, some of the scenes and dialogue, though based on reliable documentation, are necessarily approximations of what actually happened.
I do not pretend to have written the complete history of the Port Chicago disaster or the battle for Saipan. Because of the book’s large historical scope, I’ve focused on a small number of men whose stories are representative of the whole. Consequently there are countless sailors, Marines, and soldiers who are missing from these pages. It is my hope, however, that I have described an experience that all Port Chicago’s sailors, Montford Point Marines, and veterans of the Saipan campaign will recognize.
Without the official Marine narrative Saipan: The Beginning of the End, written by Major Carl Hoffman, I would have been left with nothing more than a collection of individual perspectives on the war. Major Hoffman’s book enriches my story. Anyone interested in studying the battle more closely would benefit enormously from his outstanding work of history.
My descriptions of Saipan’s topography are based on World War II–era photographs, interviews with veterans and island residents, and personal observations. In 2009 I made a monthlong trip to Saipan. Although the island has, of course, changed since the war, there are enough limestone cliffs, hidden caves, tangled ravines, patches of thick jungle, long beaches, and small farms left to give one a picture of what the island’s landscape looked like in 1944.
The story of the Port Chicago explosion and the subsequent mutiny trial would have been impossible to write without Professor Robert Allen’s groundbreaking The Port Chicago Mutiny. I am indebted to Professor Allen for his prior research, which I have used in constructing my story, and for his general magnanimity. I would also like to thank the Naval History and Heritage Command for making the extensive mutiny trial transcripts available to me. My sincere thanks, too, to the Navy Judge Advocate General’s Corps. The task of interpreting and making sense of the events of the mutiny trial would have been difficult without their assistance.
Every book is a collaboration, and I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to a long list of people: From the 29th “Bastard” Battalion the good-natured Frank Borta for his cooperation and patience in fielding my endless questions. Thanks, too, to Frances Borta for her graciousness and hospitality. To Glenn Brem, who survived not one but three of the Pacific’s savage battles, and to Robert Patrick Roberts, a storyteller in the great Southern tradition; from the 2nd Battalion of the 23rd Marines, the charismatic Carl Matthews for his dedication to this project. A talented writer, Carl will be self-publishing his World War II memoirs under the title The Feather Merchant. Thanks also to Don Swindle for his commitment to preserving the history of the battle, to Jack Campbell, Richard Freeby, Orville Matte, and the countless and kind men of the 2nd Battalion 23rd Marines who offered their memories. Thanks also to Major Everett “Bud” Hampton, Frank Kappel, Raymond Heise, Walt Biernacki, Richard Elliott, Joe Heafy, Arden Menge, Dale Cook of the 4th Marine Division Association, David Brown of the 2nd Marine Division Association, and Wayne VanDerVoort.
A huge and hearty thank-you to the ever-amiable Edgar Huff, Jr., who granted me access to his collection of documents relating to his father’s storied career. I hope that one day a feature filmmaker adapts his father’s wonderful story to the big screen. Thanks, too, to Joe Geeter, Finney Greggs and the Montford Point Marine Association and Museum for granting me access to its oral history collection.
Thanks to Richard Hengsterman, who made Robert Graf’s extensive memoirs available to me; to Joanne Mould; Alisa Whitley of the Library of the Marine Corps; and Rob Taglianetti and Sue Dillon of the Marine Corps History Division. A very special thanks to the Marine Corps History Division’s chief historian, Chuck Melson, for his clearheaded assessment of the book’s accuracy.
I owe a debt of gratitude to Russell Horton and Ann Hamon of Wisconsin Veterans Museum. The museum—and its talented staff—has been a wonderful resource for me on this book and my previous one, The Ghost Mountain Boys. Thanks, also, to Alexa Potter at the Library of Congress Veterans History Project, the Naval History and Heritage Command, and Patty Everett of Leatherneck magazine.
My appreciation is not confined to the United States. I owe much to Bruce Bateman, marketing manager for the Marianas Visitors Authority and amateur historian, who read an early version of this book and scrutinized it for its accuracy. I’d also like to thank Sam McPhetres, a professor at the Northern Marianas College, Scott Russell, executive director of the Northern Mariana Islands Council for the Humanities, Robert Hunter at the Northern Mariana Islands Museum, and William Stewart for granting me access to his collection of translated Japanese diaries.
For the Port Chicago story, I must give abundant thanks to the spirited Percy Robinson for his razor-sharp memory, and to Sammie Boykin for his dignity and quiet resolve. Sadly, Mr. Boykin passed away before I finished this book. Many thanks, also, to the warmhearted George Booth, who submitted to many hours of interviews, to Carl Tuggle for his insights, to Robert Edwards, Irwin Lowery, Morris Rich, to the gracious and now-deceased Lillian Small, who gave me access to her husband’s entire Port Chicago collection. Some of the scenes with Joe Small are taken from Small’s unfinished book about his Port Chicago experience. To Lester Small, Joe Small’s son, for his reflections on his father’s character. and to Reverend Diana McDaniel and Spencer Sikes Jr., who made my initial introductions to the Port Chicago men possible.
I particularly wish to thank Mark Wertheimer and Barbara Posner at the Naval History and Heritage Command, Brian Busey of Morrison & Forrester, who petitioned then-President Clinton for the pardon of Freddie Meeks, William White, Richard Rendleman, historians John Keibel and Dean McLeod, the indefatigable Betty Reid Soskin, Porcher Taylor, John Coster Mullen, Jim “Dr. Dynamite” Dann, Deloris Guttman at the African American Diversity Cultural Center in Hawaii, Robert Glass and Rose Mary Kennedy at the National Archives San Francisco, and my diligent researcher, Kathleen O’Connor, for her unflagging efforts in helping me get at the meat, and truth, of this story. This book would not exist if not for her energy and commitment.
I am indebted to a number of archives, museums, and oral history projects, which aided me immeasurably. Thanks to
the National Archives (and Nathaniel Patch), the Port Chicago Naval Magazine and National Memorial, the National Park Service, the Great Lakes Naval Museum, the National Association for Black Veterans, and again, to the Montford Point Marine Association.
I can’t forget my editor, the talented Sean Desmond, for his wisdom, patience, and encouragement, and David McCormick, my agent, for his enthusiasm for this story, his counsel, and his friendship. Thanks to my very good pal Jon Clark for always keeping an eye on my family and the homestead when I’m on the road, to my close friend Dan Brennan, upon whom I inflicted half-baked explanations of the book’s narrative arc, to my brother in misery, inspiration, and libation, writer Stephen Coss, and to my wife, who managed to offer sharp criticisms of early versions of this book while still keeping our love alive.
A world of thanks to my writer friends Logan Ward and Tom Doherty for their generosity of spirit and keen-eyed reads, which made this book so much better. Thanks also to my buddy writer Dean King, who, despite his busy schedule, has always lent a helping hand. Thanks to my newfound friend Hugh Lynch, professor emeritus at the Naval War College, who went beyond the call of duty by taking time away from his own book to catch my mistakes and to offer his thoughtful insights. Whatever inaccuracies remain are mine. My indebtedness extends, also, to Peter Vogel for his close read of my rough draft and for his intelligence and judgment. Thanks, also, to my brother-in-law, Sean O’Conor, who has read all three of my books in their early stages, and whose input I value greatly. I cannot overlook John Caldwell, whose willingness to share his knowledge of ordnance (as well as his books and manuals on handling ammunition) was a great help to me. John was a junior-grade lieutenant at the Naval Ammunition Handling School at the Hingham, Massachusetts, depot when Port Chicago blew. Men from the class in front of his were sent to California to replace the officers killed in the explosion.
An ocean of thanks to the indispensable Burns Ellison—novelist, astute editor, researcher, and best of buddies. Burns has been with me on all three of my books, pushing and challenging me to bring my characters—and my story—to life and to use language precisely and sparingly. I hope that someday a publisher recognizes the brilliance of his novel White-Out, and I will have a chance to reciprocate.
Finally, I would like to offer a heartfelt and love-filled thanks to my family: my wife, Elizabeth, our three spirited daughters, Aidan, Rachel, and Willa, my mother and father, and the rest of the Campbell clan, and my close friends, for reminding me every day of my blessings.
The Color of War Page 55