Pacific War Stories: A Tribute on Occasion of the 75th Anniversary of the American Victory in World War II

By Richard Allison

This book describes in striking detail six different aspects of our enormous struggle with the empire of Japan, starting with a never published handwritten survivor account of a battleship sinking at Pearl Harbor (written only weeks after the attack) and ending with the peaceful occupation of Japan and the establishment of America as the Pacific superpower.

The 1942-43 story is of a Yale University NROTC graduate who assumes command of a US subchaser and deploys to Australia to join “MacArthur’s Navy” where he is immediately thrust into patrol convoy duty. He writes of harsh tension within the chain-of-command, exhaustion, boredom, anger, loneliness, anxiety as he leads his crew into combat.

In 1944 a married father endures infantry jungle fighting with a hometown buddy in New Guinea and the Philippine Islands. A belief in God and small town community support in the form of prayers and letters received sustain these men until they return, diseased and wounded, on hospital ships. The same year a U.S. Army psychiatric nurse endlessly treats battle-fatigued G.I.s at an island station hospital. It changes her life. In 1945 a ship’s surgeon prepares to receive on board the first casualties from the invasion of Okinawa. He volunteered especially for this duty. Months later the war is over and the rest of 1945 and all of 1946 is a party of youth and Navy salt for a young sailor stuck on the US central Pacific stronghold of Guam.

Readers who enjoy immersing themselves in history that makes them feel like they are there will find a gem in this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716699900

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Copyright © 2020 Richard Allison.

Cover photo: Members of Naval Reserve Logistic Support Company No. Seventy-Six,

Guam, prepare to swim and picnic, May 1946. (Courtesy of Nancy Owens Swartz)

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ISBN: 978-1-7166-9993-1 (sc)

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2020914379

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PACIFIC WAR STORIES

A Tribute on Occasion of the 75th Anniversary of the American Victory in World War II

Edited with commentary by Richard Allison ©2020 Richard Allison. All rights

reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any form or

by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

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without written permission of the publisher.

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Lulu Publishing Services rev. date:   09/10/2020

Also by Richard Allison

Operation Thunderclap and

The Black March: Two Stories

From the Unstoppable

91st Bomb Group (2014)

Begging for Chocolates: A Story

Of World War II Italy (2017)

FOREWORD

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A World War II Trilogy Completed

First Air, Then Land, and Now Sea

F rom five miles high over burning Dresden, Germany, and Allied forces dashing to liberate all of Northern Italy, author/commentator Richard Allison has done it again with Pacific War Stories: A Tribute on Occasion of the 75 th Anniversary of the American Victory in World War II , his third book about the epic struggle.

Pacific War Stories has much to offer—from a never-before-published survivor’s statement written shortly after the Pearl Harbor attack to combat at sea and on land in New Guinea and the Philippines, to a detailed eyewitness testimonial (tape-recorded fifty years ago) of the landing at Okinawa and the peaceful occupation of Japan, and even to humor on humorless Guam Island.

This new work includes many excellent photographs, images, and maps that embellish the storyline and show how the Pacific war was waged and won. Although one is truly reading a soundly researched and documented history book, because of the author’s entertaining style of writing, that fact is easily forgotten in the desire to get to the next page to see what happens next.

—Captain Glenn R. Brown, JAG Corps, US Naval Reserve (retired)

PREFACE AND DEDICATION

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Pacific War Stories: From the Attack at Pearl Harbor to the Onset of Pax Americana

A dding context to war words taken long ago is easy today because of information technology. What used to require visits to the National Archives can be accomplished in the comfort of one’s home with the aid of a personal computer. Official government records are available online by the hundreds of millions. These documents, when coupled with a participant’s personal account and other research sources, including the Internet, can be integrated into a narrative. All wars have a beginning, middle, and end. So do short stories about wars. The devil is in adding detail.

The fun of writing in this genre is the detective work required to flesh out the who, what, when, and where of what happened. In doing so, one appreciates that war is sometimes more than just combat. Human relationships—from stressful to hilarious, from blatant to subtle—are the drivers for those thrown into (at a minimum) the unpleasant and (at the maximum) the outright hostile. Neither is an environment of their making. They are simply GIs sent in to serve.

The reward of working in this genre is the satisfaction of creating a family legacy for people who may not yet be born. It is the knowledge that many years from now what has been written will open a window into the past for generations to come.

My work is organized in six parts, with each constituting a separate war story. The men and woman depicted are the real authors; I regard myself only as a researcher, editor, and commentator. These people are gone now. They were remarkable human beings, heroes actually, and this publication is dedicated to their memory.

Richard Allison

September 2020

PART ONE

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WAR BEGINS

1941

Commentator’s note: I am informed that this detailed account (2,372 words) of a US Navy officer/survivor of the Japanese attack on the battleship USS California (hull number BB-44) hasn’t been previously published. Scrivener Paul H. Harkins was twenty-three years old when he handwrote what I have transcribed below. Ensign Harkins was commissioned through Midshipman’s School at Northwestern University in August 1941 and reported on board California (then ported in Pearl Harbor) the following October.

I haven’t edited any of Ensign Harkins’s words. I added footnotes to explain some of the US Navy terminology he used, compare what he wrote with historical reports, provide information regarding individuals he named, and, where possible, show a timeline. The only liberty I have taken is to add the letter h following numerical times to designate a military time, and I have done this consistently throughout this book.

Appreciation is given to the Harkins family for permitting me to use this remarkable record, especially to Jack and Madeline Harkins and their daughter, teacher Julie Harkins Humphries, who on every Pearl Harbor Day discusses her grandfather’s stark tale of survival with her high school classes.

This Pearl Harbor survivor’s report is the only part of this series that has footnotes rather than endnotes. These footnotes are intended to be read. I recommend that the report be read in its entirety and then reread along with the footnotes. My commentary pertaining to California follows in chapter two.

Forgive but never forget.

—R. A.

CHAPTER 1

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ATTACK!

When we got to the second deck, it was a mass of bodies and wreckage.

—Ensign Paul H. Harkins, USNR, 7 December 1941

USS California (BB-44) and Naval Air Station Ford Island

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii

Statement of Ensign Paul H. Harkins,

USNR—7 December 1941

G .Q. ¹ sounded at about 0755h with most everyone still in bed. We all thought it was another practice only we figured it was a hell of a time to be having a G.Q. I went into the bunkroom on the starboard side to get dressed. Someone had misplaced my dungaree shirt. While I was hunting around for it, the starboard ready gun began to let go. It wasn’t until then that we were sure it wasn’t practice. Several shocks were felt by us which might have been guns firing on the port side or might have been torpedo hits. ² When I tried to get down to the turret, ³ Zed had been set and the passageways were locked. ⁴ Zed must have been sounded no more than three or four minutes after G.Q. because there were several who hadn’t gotten to their battle stations. Ens. Blair ⁵ and I dogged down the ports ⁶ in the forward bunkroom and I went aft on the starboard side dogging down the open ports in the flag country. ⁷

I returned to the passage-way in the front of the J.O. Mess [junior officer mess] where I found Richey⁸ and Bowers.⁹ We went into the Mess and had a glass of orange juice. Ens. Jeffrey¹⁰ then came down the ladder just forward of the Mess and asked me for my flashlight so that he might go into the bunkroom after his. When he returned, he went back up the ladder, I think, and that was the last I saw of him. Doctor Jewell¹¹ was in the passageway in front of the captain’s office treating the first bunch of men who were suffering from exhaustion and oil fumes. I don’t know where they were coming from, but it must have been from the port side fuel tanks where the torpedo hit.

Ensign Kiefer then came back through the passage way asking that all available men go forward to the armored hatch¹² to assist in passing A.A. ammunition.¹³ I immediately went to that hatch, collecting a few stray men on the way up. They were passing by hand from the magazine opening on the third deck, around and up the ladder and up to the port gun from where I suppose they were distributing them to the starboard side from this point. I stayed at this station assisting by tearing up sheets, pillow cases and mattress covers to supply the men with better footing. More men were coming in all the time and Kiefer and I formed them into an orderly passing line with a system of replacements for the men below. The call came up from the third deck that men were tiring so I went below to re-arrange the relief situation. During this period, we were firing only sporadically and I don’t remember any particularly violent shocks such as a torpedo might make.

When I got to the third deck I found they were running the hoist by hand, pulling chains, two men on each chain, or four altogether. The lights were still on,¹⁴ and except for oil that had been tracked up, the floor was clear. I immediately went down another deck to the magazine where they were short of men. I stationed myself at the foot of the ladder, immediately outside the magazine, and received containers from the man in the magazine, passing them to my left to another man.

Perhaps six or seven had passed through me when there was a terrific shock that knocked me against the bulkhead and caused me to drop the container I had in my hand.¹⁵ Immediately the compartment was filled with very acrid smoke and fumes which I suppose was from the bomb and exploding containers. Breathing was extremely difficult and painful. So far as I can remember, there were no personnel or material casualties in that compartment. Whether or not the lights went out, I don’t remember but that it was extremely difficult to see, I do remember. It is very possible that the lack of visibility was due to the smoke.

I saw to it that the men who were with me were all up the ladder and then dogged down the magazine door and went up myself. On the third deck it was very quiet. Either there were no men there or the ones that were there were unconscious. It was impossible to see and breathing was even more difficult. The hatch opening to the second deck was closed and there [was] a body resting directly over the hatch. I thought that the compartment was flooded because something was dripping on the ladder. By placing my hand under the hatch I found that it was a steady stream of blood. We called to anyone above to open the hatch and with the help of the men who were with me, it was opened.

This was the first place I had encountered any casualties. As far as I could tell by calling and walking around the compartment, there were no men here. I was really feeling panicky at this point because I had no idea where the ladder was, and neither did any of the men. However, I don’t think I showed how I felt, and the men certainly did not.

When we got to the second deck, it was a mass of bodies and wreckage, barely discernible because of light coming in from the main deck, or rather from the casemate.¹⁶ The men here were crying for help and evidently some were in great pain. Because of the darkness we could not discern any individual bodies for purposes of removing them. I was afraid to move any of them because of the possibility of aggravating any injuries. This I feel was my real mistake, because had I endeavored to move some of them, they would not have been caught in the ensuing fire. I feel quite sure that I heard Ensign Jones crying for help in this group.¹⁷ Again I made sure that the men were up to the next deck before I started up. How I got up, I still don’t know, because the ladder was blown off and the hatch was either blown clear off, or a hole blown in it. I think I braced myself on two projections and vaulted into the opening where the fresh air seemed to be coming in. That brought me up to the deck below the casemate #4.¹⁸ When I got there, I found a man trying to move a hatch off of another man who was caught. I tried to assist but was so shaky that I was no help at all. I told the men I would send some men down to help, which I did as soon as I got up to the casemate. When I got there I was actually weak, and could do nothing but stand.¹⁹

Then a fire started down in the area below the casemate and inboard. A hose was run from casemate #6 and down the ladder. Considerable trouble was had in getting any pressure. The fire was eventually put under control, at least smoke ceased to rise from that point. There were several men standing around the casemate who were badly burned. One in particular was so badly burned that he was unable to sit down. I advised him to get back out of the wind which was only aggravating his pain. One man was lying on the deck only about half conscious. I obtained some salve which must have been tannic acid, and spread it over him on all exposed parts. After looking at him for several minutes I saw that he was Conroe, Bosun out of the second division.²⁰ Both of his ankles were broken in addition to what were evidently very bad burns. There were several other men lying around the casemate in various stages of burns. Where they received the injuries, I never discovered, but it must have been from the torpedo hit on the port side.

By this time the air activities had ceased. Men were beginning to come out on the main deck, and a call, later shown to be incorrect, was passed to abandon ship. Ens. Croft appeared from his turret,²¹ and the two of us helped to put Conroe over the side into a boat. Then we saw to it that the life rafts were cut loose, lines attached and thrown over on the port side. I then went over to the starboard side to observe activities and see if I could be of any assistance. Men were going over the side from the vicinity of amidships and the quarterdeck. I was absolutely no use to anyone, as I soon discovered, so did nothing but stay out of the way and be sure that no one jumped off the starboard side into the key.²² When the official word came out to abandon ship,²³ I got on a forward breast and slid down to the key.²⁴

From there I loaded a boat, got in, and took hold of lines leading to three life rafts; from there to landing C. Immediately before I went ashore, fire broke out in the vicinity of the bomb hit, about #3 casemate. When we got ashore, everyone went to the ferry to re-assemble. The first funny thing all morning came to my attention right about here. Ens. Lightburn had been ashore Saturday night and hadn’t arrived on board until rather late. As a result he was still dressed for shore, coat, brown & white shoes, tie, handkerchief in breast pocket, captaining a motor launch, running people and bodies to landing C & A.²⁵

Fire broke out in the region of #2 casemate just after the word went to abandon ship: All hands immediately went to the ferry and started collecting all fire extinguishers in the area, running them to the ship in the boats. For quite some time no progress was apparent. It was right here that administrative inefficiency showed up, at least to me. Someone ordered the ammunition removed from the ship put into the boats and taken ashore. After four or five boatloads had been taken ashore, the order came to bring it all back.²⁶ That happened at least three times that I can remember. Also the word went out several times to send all the men back to the ship, when they arrived at the gangway, they were sent back ashore. That happened very many times during the next two days and was one of the biggest factors contributing to the general confusion.

They called back all engineers and ship-fitters when the fire came under control, in order to plug up some holes and secure what machinery was still above water. I stayed ashore Sunday night, not having any battle station. Lt. Adams & Lt. Comdr. Bernstein²⁷ were placed in charge of the California crew to be housed in one of the hangers on Ford Island. I got no sleep Sunday night and no one else got very much. There weren’t enough blankets to go around, which made it very tough on the men because the hanger was plenty cold. Finding clean clothes for the engineers who were working in oil, became a major problem. Regular watches of engineers and ship fitters were assigned to clear away as much wreckage as possible from the machinery and secure it. Coupled with this work, they were removing as many bodies as they encountered.

8–15 DECEMBER 1941

All day Monday the salvage crews were working, endeavoring to stop up as many leaks as could be found, particularly the drains which were spouting like fountains. Monday found the food no better and still not sufficient bedding or clothes. On Tuesday, I stood an eight-hour watch on the AA guns. The ship had a terrific list on it, and didn’t seem to be getting any better.²⁸

Starting Wednesday the ship was stripped of everything, particularly stores. Many more bodies were encountered, all very badly burned, and all from the same section of the ship, starboard side, around where the bomb struck. Ensign Jones was the only one I saw who was recognizable, and he burned to discolorment. No air raid alarms had been sounded except for Sunday night when three Enterprise planes were shot down because of bad approach signals. For the rest of the week I was in the hanger handling the men from the California.

The latter part of the week saw beginnings of transfers of officers and men to various units. By Sunday, most of them had gone, and on Monday I was detached and assigned to the ABF Service Detachment, a unit set-up for servicing carrier units. My job is making sure that the engineering end of the job is maintained. The duty is very desirable and the work equally interesting. It is a new outfit and consequently everyone is new at the job, but trying hard.

It seems to us around here that the islands which are going to Japan so easily are doing so with no hindrance or help from our Naval forces.²⁹ The carriers as yet haven’t even been in a combat area, but merely wander around in the general vicinity of the island. When the carriers are out, there is no Naval air protection whatsoever except for these huge patrol boats and some hanger lilies that we have. Everyone is wondering what in the hell the Navy is planning to do in the way of an offensive campaign. Up to now the ships have done nothing but patrol in the same manner as before. Several two-man subs have been sunk in the vicinity. Those things don’t count a whole lot except that they won’t be able to hazard shipping. Of course the entire area is completely blacked out every night, and the island is under martial law. Nothing more of note has happened since 7 December.

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Dramatic image of a nighttime five-inch broadside. This was taken in 1933 from the forecastle main deck of USS California (BB-44); the camera shutter release is synced to the firing of two casemate guns. The burning gunpowder provides the only illumination for this perfectly exposed, well-balanced photograph. The eye drifts to the large barrels. This image, perhaps more than others, conveys the romance that the battleship remained dominant, even in the emerging age of airpower. Unless otherwise noted, the photo source is the Naval History and Heritage Command.

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USS California (BB-44). Commissioned in 1921, the ship was 624 feet long and had a beam of ninety-eight feet. Her draft was thirty feet. With a full combat load of 33,720 tons, she could make twenty-one knots (twenty-four miles per hour). Her main battery consisted of twelve fourteen-inch guns housed in four turrets, two of which are shown in this stern photograph. For close-in, rapid-fire fighting, there were fourteen five-inch casemate guns ringing the superstructure amidships as well as additional, smaller-caliber weapons. Two seaplanes and a large boom would be added at the ship’s stern. Catapulted into the air and landing in the water, these airplanes would radio in positions, courses, and estimated speeds of ships encountered. Targeting was done from the towers, the forward one also being used to conn the ship. Ensign Paul H. Harkins, USNR, reported aboard California in October 1941 and had as a battle station one of the main gun turrets. When the Japanese attack happened early that Sunday morning, as he rushed to get dressed, the ship was sealed; passageways and ladders were locked to contain possible flooding. Unable to get to his assigned station, Harkins pitched in and dogged down the ports. Thereafter he passed boxed .50-caliber machine gun ammunition up a ladder until a bomb struck at 0830h. His survival odyssey started at that moment.

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Ensign Paul H. Harkins, USNR. US Navy records show that Harkins and seven other ensigns transited aboard the light cruiser USS Boise from San Diego starting 3 October 1941, with orders to report to capital ships of the line at Pearl Harbor. Following the war, when Harkins separated from active duty, the navy listed his qualifications as Naval Aviator, Operations Officer, Deck Watch Officer and Aviation Maintenance Officer. He had done most everything. Harkins retired in the 1950s from the US Naval Reserve, holding the rank of commander. Source: Fold3.com and John Harkins. (Photo courtesy of John Harkins)

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The Japanese took this informative photograph early in the attack. The plume of water is a torpedo slamming into the battleship USS West Virginia (BB-48). The USS California (BB-44), flagship of the US Pacific Fleet, stands alone, first in line on battleship row; its bow points south toward the channel leading to the Pacific Ocean. Naval Air Station Ford Island is quiet, making no challenge to the Japanese attack. Oil storage tanks appear in the distance, and across the water from them is the navy yard with its dry docks. The Japanese made a strategic mistake in not bombing the oil tanks and dry docks. The oil was later used to replenish US aircraft carriers and the dry docks to temporarily repair many ships to the point that they could be refitted in the USA. Hospital Point, where the wounded and dead were transported to by boat, isn’t visible, but the bow of California points in its general direction on the opposite side of the channel.

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At 0805h on the morning of 7 December 1941, California suffered two Japanese torpedo hits at eighteen-feet water depth. One hit exploded in front of the bridge, and the other was under main gun turret number three. A bomb hit followed at 0830h. Ensign Paul Harkins was in the junior officer bunkroom, main deck, when the torpedoes struck. He reported feeling several shocks, which might have been guns firing on the port side or might have been torpedo hits. Twenty-five minutes later, his experience was violent. Harkins was four decks down and outside an ammo magazine, when a bomb exploded on the second deck. There was a terrific shock that knocked me against the bulkhead, he wrote. Harkins and the men with him were fortunate to make their way out to the topside before widespread fires contaminated the air in the compartments. The image shows the hull damage on the port side caused by the torpedo hits and the trajectory of the bomb and deck two, where it exploded. The bomb exploded on the starboard side just inside the hull.

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Bomb explosion, second deck, starboard side, 0830h. When the bomb struck, Ensign Harkins and his ammunition-passing party were center ship. The bomb exploded near the skin of the hull two decks up. After describing being violently thrown against a bulkhead, Harkins wrote, Immediately the compartment was filled with very acrid smoke and fumes which I suppose was from the bomb and exploding containers. Breathing was extremely difficult and painful. Getting the men with him up the ladder to the third deck first, he then led them to the ladder leading to the second deck. Something was dripping on the ladder, he recalled. By placing my hand under the hatch, I found that it was a steady stream of blood. Reaching the second deck, he encountered casualties. I was really feeling panicky at this point because I had no idea where the ladder was, and neither did any of the men. The first of several fires had yet to ignite. Fearing that moving wounded men might aggravate their injuries, Harkins searched for a way out for his party and himself. The ladder was blown off and the hatch was either blown clear off, or a hole blown in it, he continued. I think I braced myself on two projections and vaulted into the opening where the fresh air seemed to be coming in. Looking at this photograph, taken March 1942, we see that no ladder appears. Harkins and the men with him somehow made it topside.

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1002h: Abandon ship! Anticipating another air attack, the California’s captain neglected the lack of seaworthiness of his ship and prepared to get her underway. A huge floating oil fire approached California’s stern, however. Appreciating that this fire might engulf his ship and also ignite oil leaked forward by California, the captain ordered everyone to abandon ship. All hands raced to the safety of nearby Ford Island; they did so by jumping overboard and swimming, racing down gangways to board boats and racing across a small boat dock. Ensign Harkins told of exiting the ship by sliding down a bow mooring line onto a key. The fire, carried out by the ebb tide, passed harmlessly out the channel. This incident proved to be a blessing in disguise. Had California gotten underway, the loss