After making it all this way, the last thing he wanted to happen was to end up with a bullet in his back. He took a couple of deep breaths and then pulled out a pack of Camels. A cigarette was what he needed right now. Just one inhale of nicotine revived him and the rest soothed his nerves. Now it was time to meet up with his regiment and push on to Cherbourg—the port was essential for the battle in Western Europe.
The 4th Infantry reached Cherbourg on June 18 and fought until the Germans surrendered at the end of the month. The USS Nevada had followed the infantry forces to Cherbourg where it again provided support. Frankie heard the guns of a battleship blasting overhead and knew his brother was protecting him again. But he knew Marty and he would soon have to part ways. The 4th Infantry was heading inland where no boat could follow. Frankie wondered where the Nevada would be heading next.
Chapter 59
In the Pacific, Tom Paul was preparing for the Battle of the Philippine Sea. Hellcats were going to be tested along with their pilots. The training they received in Watsonville and elsewhere was going to determine the success of their mission. Tom Paul brought his Hellcat in for a landing on the aircraft carrier where it would be taken out to sea to meet the enemy. Tom Paul found himself in an upbeat mood looking forward to an encounter with Zeros. He had heard so much about the superiority of the Hellcat that he wanted to witness it for himself, from the pilot’s seat where there would be no doubt about the plane’s ability to perform under the severe conditions of war.
When they reached the Marianna Islands, Commander Spruance ordered Hellcats into the air to cover the fleet. Tom Paul was among those who took flight. Radar picked up a swarm of enemy aircraft approaching, and Spruance sent up three hundred planes to join Tom Paul and the other pilots. Once Tom Paul spotted the Jap Zeros, his adrenaline started pumping, and he felt all his senses keenly alert as if he had a heightened awareness and ability. “Now I’ll see what you can do,” Tom Paul said aloud to his Hellcat. Using all the techniques he had learned at training school, along with the superior design features of the Grumman plane, Tom Paul was able to take the enemy on over and over again and emerge successful, always ready to fight anew.
The Japs also sent up more planes, most of them picked off by Yankee flyboys but a few got through and got off some shots at the aircraft carriers. However, Hellcats defended their turf and Zeros dropped from the sky. When the battle was over, the Japs had lost two-thirds of their planes and without planes the aircraft carriers were useless. In total, the Japanese lost 243 planes to America’s twenty-nine. It had been a real ace maker day, and Tom Paul had emerged as one of them.
But now the threat was not the Japs but the cloak of night covering the aircraft carriers. Without light, it would be almost impossible to land. As Tom Paul flew back, he made his peace with life and felt ready to accept his fate. He would leave this world knowing he had done his duty and that he had helped turn the course of this war. He would die a warrior’s death, having given every fiber of his being to a just cause. But it was almost as if acceptance of his fate had changed its course.
As he emerged from cloud cover he could see light. Never before had he realized the power of light—his mood instantly changed into hope. It was against the rules for aircraft carriers to light themselves for fear the enemy would be able to spot the target. But the Commander had ordered them lighted anyway so the Hellcats and their pilots could make it home. Tom Paul wanted to do a cheer…to jump up and down…to dance and sing. His heart was filled with blessing and gratitude for the chance to live another day.
Tom Paul was able to bring his Hellcat in for a near perfect landing. When he emerged from the cockpit, the ground crew let out a cheer but it didn’t last long, because they had so many returning planes to guide in. Unfortunately, not every plane made a successful landing. Some crash-landed on the deck, some ended up in the ocean, and others ran out of gas before they were even in range. But rescue crews had most of the survivors picked up by the next day.
There was a lot of celebrating after that victory. One veteran airman called it a turkey shoot and the name stuck since it fit. Anyone who had ever been to a turkey shoot knew that they didn’t shoot back. Forever after, the battle would be known as the Great Marianas Turkey Shoot, a pivotal battle in the war.
The Battle of the Philippine Sea was the greatest carrier battle of World War II. Along with damaging or sinking some ships, it dismantled Japan’s air power for the rest of the war. The Hellcat had proven its superiority.
Martin’s position as town liaison for the naval station kept him in the loop. Even before the newspapers could report the results of a Pacific naval battle, the officers at the naval station had the details. “Our Hellcats showed their stuff the other day,” Commander Barkley said to Martin. “They shot down so many Zeros that the Japs won’t be able to recover until long after the war’s over.”
Martin did not know what battle he was talking about but his mind was on Tom Paul. “How did our guys do?”
“Our losses were nothing compared to theirs.”
“That’s good. You must have trained them well.”
“Not only that but those Hellcats outperformed the Zeros just as we thought they would. No amount of training can make up for lousy equipment.”
“Where was the battle so I can pass on the word of our success?”
“In the Philippines Sea. But they’re calling it The Great Marianas Turkey Shoot. That name couldn’t be more descriptive. Those Japs barely got a shot off.”
“Good. That may mean my son survived.”
“No doubt he did. He was one of my best pilots. The turkey shoot probably made him an ace. It only takes about five hits to qualify and a good number of pilots must’ve, considering the number of Zeros shot down.”
“Knowing Tom Paul, he shot his share.” But Martin was thinking that no amount of honor was worth it if you were dead. He could only hope and pray that Tom Paul made it through.
A few weeks later, Michael burst through the restaurant doors between meal hours. “Did you hear?”
“Since I don’t know what you’re talking about I probably didn’t. So don’t leave me in suspense.”
“The Chetniks have rescued a couple hundred of our airmen that had been shot down in the Balkans and held prisoner. It’s all over the news. They’re looking like God-damned heroes.” By the end of the year over four hundred pilots would be rescued.
“Well, they’re getting all the publicity because they didn’t do anything until now and could deliver them in a big group. Tito and his partisans have been rescuing our airmen all along and sending them home. They didn’t have to rot in a stinking prison awaiting rescue.”
“Somehow we’ve got to get that angle of the story out.”
“It will come out eventually. No use tooting our own horn. Besides what the Chetniks are doing finally is a good thing.”
“Yeah, as usual you’re right.” Michael thought a minute and then asked, “Any word from your sons?”
“Not in a while. You know both fronts are pretty active right now. But as they say no news, is good news.”
Chapter 60
After taking Cherbourg, the 4th Infantry marched over two hundred miles before reaching the outskirts of Paris. On August 25, the French 2nd armored division led by General LeClerc approached the City of Lights from the north while the 4th Infantry approached from the south. At Midnight as the first liberators set foot in the city, the bells of Notre Dame rang out, and soon every church in Paris joined in a carol of the bells. They encountered very little resistance as they swept the city free, German soldiers fleeing or surrendering, not fighting.
The French people greeted their liberating heroes with flowers, wine, and kisses, returned in kind. And they were honored with a parade down the Champs-Élysées. As Frankie passed under the Arc de Triomphe, he blessed himself knowing his footsteps fell on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from World War I. Frankie had heard about Paris all his life, and now he was fina
lly here. But he never expected to make such a dramatic entrance into Paris.
This moment would remain in his memory forever. He later learned that Hitler had ordered Paris destroyed rather than captured and that explosives had been laid throughout the city. But the German General Choltitz disobeyed orders because he did not want to be forever known as the Destroyer of Paris. Besides, by then he thought Hitler was crazy.
A Mass at Notre Dame was followed by a party that lasted for days. Ernest Hemingway, who was imbedded as a war correspondent in the 4th, served as a sort of tour guide. After liberating the bar at The Ritz, which he proclaimed to have done, the celebrating kicked into high gear. Author and 4th Infantryman JD Salinger took part as well. And even the celebrated writers later admitted, truth is often stranger than fiction.
No sooner had Frankie entered Paris, then he left it, heading toward Belgium to follow German forces. They encountered them in the Battle of the Hurtgen Forest and then again in the Ardennes Forest in what became known as the Battle of the Bulge. The bulge was created by 250,000 German troops and hundreds of tanks spread over a sixty-mile area. It was December by the time the 4th Infantry reached the snow-covered battlefield. Temperatures were frigid and supplies were running low, but more so for the Germans than the Allies. Nevertheless, they fought one of the longest battles of World War II with casualties high and injuries higher.
Frankie had never witnessed such gruesome sights. Men were dying right and left. Limbs blown off, guts exploded, faces shattered, eyeballs oozing goo. He had to put invisible blinders on to keep on fighting. At one point in the battle, a German had Frankie in his sights but was blown away by another GI before he even had a chance to react. Frankie glanced over at his savior and was surprised to see a black man. When they finally reached a resting place, Frankie found himself surrounded by black soldiers who he later learned were part of the 333rd and 969th Field Artillery Battalions. Even though the army was not yet integrated, the high command, desperate and under pressure, sent black soldiers to the front to help fight the Battle of the Bulge. Frankie was grateful that they did. He knew he wouldn’t have made it through without one of them, Jethro Jeremiah Jackson, a mighty warrior blacker than the Ace of Spades.
Chapter 61
In late October, Croatians began pouring into Martin’s restaurant to celebrate—Dubrovnik had been liberated from the Nazis—Belgrade, too, but since it was Serbian they didn’t much care about it. But a free Dubrovnik was something to cheer about. Since 1941, it had been occupied by Italians first and then in 1943 by Germans. Michael shouted to Martin, “Aren’t those Partisans something?”
“They certainly are,” he said as he put up a sign on the door that read, Closed for Private Party. Liu and Chao knew what was expected and were already getting the sljivovica out.
Martin held up his glass, “To the Partisans and freedom. May our brothers in Croatia finally know the freedom we know here in America.” Then everyone put their glasses to their lips and slugged the liquor in one gulp. “Another round,” Martin called out. And the glasses were filled again. Then another toast followed by another round until the sljivovica had been exhausted. The revelers stumbled out of the restaurant, not knowing how they managed to get home.
They all made another appearance on Sunday for a proper celebration at the Slavonic Society. Every Dalmatian in town turned up for the occasion, featuring a buffet of Croatian favorites and plenty of sljivovica to last into the wee hours of the night. At one point, men were taking to the stage to offer toasts or insights into the war in the Balkans. Martin used the opportunity to share what he knew about the war in the Pacific. “I just want to share that our forces won a decisive victory in the Battle of the Leyte Gulf. Many of you, like me, may have sons who fought in that battle. Well, let me tell you those Hellcats, some of which we dispatched to the Pacific from our own little airport, did a hell of a job on the Jap war fleet—taking out over thirty ships. So now, without both ships and planes, not to mention pilots, they are seriously lacking in resources to sustain them in battle. It will only be a matter of time until we have won the war.” In his Christmas message, President Roosevelt echoed the same sentiment. “‘The tide of battle has turned, slowly but inexorably, against those who sought to destroy civilization.’”
Chapter 62
After Cherbourg, Marty and the Nevada had gone to Southern France to support the Allies there in Operation Dragoon. Then they were ordered to head back across the Atlantic for an overhaul and refitting to have guns replaced. Next the Nevada sailed out of the Norfolk Navy Yard with its new assignment—the Pacific theatre…Pearl Harbor. After passing through the Panama Canal and making a pit stop in California, the Nevada crossed the familiar Pacific territory arriving at Pearl Harbor where it tied up at Quay Fox 8—the same one the ship had been at when the Japanese launched their attack three years before. Marty hoped this was an auspicious sign. And it certainly proved to be.
Marty headed for the nearest watering hole as soon as they got leave—Smith’s Union Bar in the red light district. As he entered the long narrow room with a bar on one side, tables on the other, he heard the sounds of ukuleles being strummed, offering up traditional Hawaiian melodies. Once he got the bartender’s attention, he asked for the best island beer they had and was handed a Kona Longboard. He took his first quaff as he scanned the room and couldn’t believe his eyes when he spotted Tom Paul holding court at the other end of the bar. At first Tom Paul didn’t recognize him, since Marty was sporting the beard of a seaman, but when he did, he gave Marty the biggest bear hug he ever would have again in his life.
“What are you doing in this joint?” Tom Paul asked. “All the Nevada crew hang out at Shanghai Bill’s.”
“I just ducked into the first drinking hole I saw. Now that I’m clued in, I’ll try that one next. But, hey, let’s grab a table,” said Marty. “We’ve a lot of catching up to do.” Fortunately, they caught a break between the ukulele set and karaoke. Once they were seated and had ordered something to eat, Marty went on to tell Tom Paul about all his exploits and especially his encounter with Frankie in Portsmouth during the D-Day preparations.
“Where do you think Frankie is now?” Tom Paul asked.
“Somewhere in Europe. I only hope he got to participate in the Liberation of Paris. He deserved that bit of pleasure after what he had to do during Operation Neptune on Utah Beach.”
“Are you telling me that Frankie was one of the GIs that had to make the beach landing and climb those cliffs while Germans tried to pick them off.”
“I know it’s hard to believe that our Frankie, the peace lover, had to shoot his way all the way to Cherbourg, but it’s the truth. I don’t think he’ll ever be the same again. Even from the Nevada, I could see some of what those soldiers were going through and it was ugly beyond sin.”
“I guess we’re lucky we don’t have to witness the gruesome scenes of war up close.”
“Of course, it’s nothing like Frankie is having to go through, but we have had some carnage to deal with as well, and it ain’t for the faint of heart. Now tell me what you’ve been doing out here in the Pacific.”
“Well,” Tom Paul said as he sat up as straight as he could, “I’m a flying ace, meaning I’ve shot down a lot of Japs.”
“Well, I’ll be. I still think of you as my kid brother. And now you’re some kind of war hero.”
“Not hero. Just a good shot from a Hellcat. That plane is something else. Our Hellcats took out most of the Zeros in the Marianas. They don’t have much left to fly.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“It all became quite apparent how desperate they were when we went back to take the Philippines at Leyte Gulf. Instead of staying in the air to fight us Hellcats, they sent their planes directly at the ships like bombs. They call them Kamikazes—translation, divine wind. Of course, the pilots sacrifice themselves, but they’re doing it in a last ditch effort to save their country.”
“I never imagined the Ja
ps would resort to using their Zeros like that. It seems inhumane if not crazy.”
“But it is effective. They took out the carrier St. Lo. It sunk in less than an hour. Overall they downed over thirty ships. I never saw anything like it. Not only did they use Zeros but specially-designed planes that were carried toward their target by bombers.”
“It sounds like you’ve experienced a lot of the naval battles in your short time in the Pacific.”
“Yeah, they’re calling the Battle of Leyte Gulf one of the biggest naval battles ever, certainly of the war. We destroyed most of the Jap’s surface fleet so now without both planes and ships they should be about ready to surrender.”
“I don’t know about that. They’re a proud race. Don’t you remember the way most of them were back home? They don’t give up easily. My guess is that they’ll fight to the bitter end.”
The California Immigrant Page 22