Off to War: A Young G.I. in the South Pacific

By Francis H. Watson

The realities of war as told through the eyes of a World War II G. I. Starting with Pearl Harbor, the author takes you on a journey that ends in 1946 when he returns home from Japan, a seasoned veteran. His story is filled with humorous and stirring tales, starting with the anxieties of being drafted, followed by the rigors of stateside training, and the perils of going overseas. Off To War is sensitive, exciting and informative. It will revive memories of those who fought in it, and it will help their offspring to understand what their fathers and grandfathers experienced.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 19, 2004
• ISBN: 9781453551165

Francis H. Watson

Francis Watson, after serving in World War II, entered the business world. He and his wife Alma reside in Staten Island, N. Y. He graduated from LaSalle Extension University taking their law course and from the Academy of Advanced Traffic, where he also taught. He headed the transportation department of a major division of a Fortune 200 company. He was national president of the American Society of Traffic and Transportation and an Interstate Commerce Commission practitioner. Now retired, he serves on the board of directors of the Staten Island Historical Society and is active with the Secular Franciscan Order.

Book preview

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS—

This book would not have been written if John Sampson did not offer his encouragement and assistance. He, in his own inestimable way, kept me focused.

I’m also grateful to my wife Alma who was indispensable in helping me write this book. She patiently read the various drafts of the manuscript, and made many useful comments and suggestions.

Fred Jeude, Peter Cantone and Winifred Borden, widow of John Borden, helped me recall events and conditions that the passing of time made hazy. Fred was at Camp Claiborne the same time I was; Peter was my platoon sergeant, now deceased, and John I replaced when he left for home.

There were others who aided me in my research whom I never met personally. Unfortunately, I am unable to acknowledge them as I do not know their full names.

Whatever merit the book has is due in large part to the aforementioned. Thank you one and all.

Francis H. Watson

Staten Island, NY

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PREFACE—

The reason why I wrote these memoirs is that there is a great deal of interest being shown in what I will call the World War II generation. This is due to the realization that the veterans of World War II are dying at the rate of over 1,250 a day. The youngest are now over 75 years of age. While there may be some veterans still alive 30 years from now, for the most part, in 15 to 20 years most will be gone.

In view of this sad but inevitable circumstance, I thought I would add my small voice to all that has been written about World War II. What I want to pass on to post World War II generations is what a profound effect the war had on an ordinary young man who just turned 14 when the war started in Europe, and for him did not end until he was nearly 21 when he returned home from Japan after serving in the army of occupation.

Francis H. Watson

June 2003

 —CHAPTER ONE—

GREETINGS!

December 7, 1941 started out like any other day in my young life. It was Sunday and I was getting ready to meet my cousin, Billy Cullen. It was our custom to walk a half a mile or so to attend Mass at St. Sylvester’s Church in Concord, Staten Island. I did not realize that at that very moment forces were at work which would change my life forever.

After Mass, I would usually go to Billy’s house for Sunday dinner. This Sunday, however, I told him that I would be unable to come as I must take time to do homework. I was 16 years old, a junior in New Dorp High School, and somewhat behind in my studies. If I did not start applying myself the likelihood was that I would fall even further behind.

My home was an eight room, two-storied house, in Concord. Considering there were only my mother, my father and me, we had enough room, even for the relatives who lived with us from time to time. The living room was so big, the little furniture we had was placed in the middle of it. The windows in my parents’ bedroom were beautiful, the type you would find in an English Tudor house. What made the house important at the time was that it was built of stone, had a cellar and a slate roof, an ideal house to live in in time of war. While it survived the war it did not survive peacetime. Plans were approved to build a modern highway through Staten Island (the Staten Island Expressway), and this house was in its path.

After lunch and some prodding from my mother, I went into the dining room and started to do my homework, simultaneously listening to the New York Giants football team on the radio. While my first sports love was the New York Yankees baseball team, I did like football and followed the Giants, Notre Dame, Army and New Dorp. During the course of the game there were announcements calling military personnel from the stands. Then came the blockbuster; the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. At first we did not know where Pearl Harbor was. Once we knew, we were stunned. As I continued with my homework, half distracted, I began to wonder what effect this momentous day would have on me.

Until this time I was fascinated reading about the war in Europe. Initially it was the events at sea; starting with a U-boat sinking the British liner Athenia beginning the Battle of the Atlantic, the scuttling of the German pocket-battleship Graf Spee at Montevideo in Uruguay, to the sinking of the German battleship Bismarck. Then in 1940 and 1941 the papers detailed Germany’s conquest of the European Continent, from the English Channel to the outskirts of Moscow. Hollywood followed portraying the Nazis as depraved and ruthless; the Japanese as barbaric and fanatical. All of this helped to build up the patriotic fervor necessary for the sacrifices required to win the war.

The day after Pearl Harbor was a school day. The students were abuzz about our now being in the war. We had a low opinion of Japan. It produced mainly cheap merchandise, mostly copied. How could they effectively wage war? We would defeat them in no time. How wrong we were. Besides our poor analysis of their manufacturing abilities, we never took into consideration how ill prepared we were. We only had two million men under arms, far below the twelve

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Shorly after the war started in Europe. From left to right, Mary Carr (nee Watson), Bill Cullen and author in Coney Island

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The author one week before Pearl Harbor at the front door of the big stone house.

million plus serving when the war ended. Adding to our plight were Germany and Italy declaring war on us on December 11. We quickly realized that there was going to be no speedy end to hostilities and that as soon as we turned 18 we were going to be called to defend our country.

Rumors were rampant during the early days of the war. Fiorello LaGuardia, mayor of New York, was no help. He worried everyone by saying that we were in imminent danger of being attacked by enemy aircraft. Such an alarmist attitude was probably the reason why on the Saturday following Pearl Harbor the radio reported German bombers were heading for New York City. Billy, hearing this, pedaled feverishly to my house to let me know. This may have been the reason, but I think the real reason was to be protected in case there was an air raid. A big stone house with a slate roof and a cellar was an ideal refuge.

My father left his job as a driver for the Railway Express Company to work as an electrician for Bethlehem Steel Company. Bethlehem had a shipyard on Staten Island that quickly went on a war footing building vessels for the navy. His starting salary was in the range of seventy to eighty dollars a week, nearly twice as much as he was making for Railway Express. Being 40 years old it was very unlikely he would be called up for military service.

Those who were not eligible to serve their country in uniform did whatever they could to help the war effort. Older men such as my father, as well as women, went to work in shipyards, factories and foundries. Children gathered scrap metal and saved their nickels and dimes for war stamps and bonds. Civilians were encouraged to grow vegetables in what were called victory gardens. I signed up to be a junior air raid warden.

High schools added courses to the curriculum called war courses. I took two of them—meteorology and topography. I enjoyed both and even had visions of becoming a meteorologist. What I learned in the topography class proved very useful after I entered the service.

Initially, only men between the ages of 21 and 35 were eligible for the draft. These age limits were mandated by an act passed by Congress on September 16, 1940. Amendments during the following two years extended the limits from 18 to 65. While Congress broadened the man pool the military only wanted young men. The first men drafted were to serve only twelve months. However, before the twelve months were up it was extended to eighteen months. Being that the war started within fifteen months after the Selected Service Act was passed none was discharged before the war ended, almost five years later.

During the war the services had a special training program which the army called A.S.T.P., short for Army Special Training Program. If you were interested in entering the program a test was given called A12. The navy had a similar program called V12. The purpose of the program was to single out young men for special training in subjects the services deemed important. Only high school seniors were eligible to take the test so when I became a senior I welcomed the opportunity. I selected the A12 test as I had already made up my mind to go into the army when called. A score of 115 was required to pass and only 25% passed, I being one. No one was more surprised than I. Not that I passed, but so few others did. I had a great love for trivia which proved beneficial for the type of test given. I was informed of my passing through a letter written by Major General Ulio in Washington, D.C. I was to bring the letter with me when called up for service.

Both my parents thought I had a good singing voice, and they enrolled me in a singing and acting school in Stapleton, a neighboring town. I enjoyed going to school especially taking the acting lessons. When I look back on those days, I can imagine what a time the teacher must have had in keeping a straight face. One of the exercises was to act out various emotions such as anger, happiness, sorrow, joy, etc. There were ten of them. It must have been quite humorous watching these aspiring young actors going through the routine. The singing portion involved going through the scales and singing with a piano accompaniment the popular songs of the day.

Nothing much ever came of this supposed talent, but to entertain family, friends and wounded soldiers. At the urging of friends I did enter singing contests. After the war I entered a contest given at a local nightclub called the Club 80. Besides the contest, the program also included entertainment provided by professionals. After I sang the song Embraceable You, I joined my friends and we stayed to watch the rest of the show.

One of the professional singers was an army veteran by the name of Jimmy Roselli. He and I trained at the same camp but not at the same time. We were enraptured by his performance, not expecting to hear a person of such talent in a local nightclub. He had a marvelous voice and a wonderful style. We thought he was as talented as Frank Sinatra. When we compared him to Sinatra, who was ten years older, we did not know they were neighbors. They both lived on the same street in Hoboken, New Jersey. When Jimmy’s popularity was on the upswing, Frank Sinatra’s mother, Dolly, was doing charity work for the St. Joseph’s School of the Blind. She wanted Jimmy to sing at an affair it was having. Instead of asking Jimmy herself, as she did many times before, she had an emissary make the request. Jimmy took this as a personal affront and refused to offer his services. When Sinatra heard that Jimmy Roselli turned down his mother it was reported that he never spoke to him again. Despite being slighted by one of leading singers of his day, Roselli has had a successful career.

On November 8, 1942 Operation Torch started in North Africa. This was the first major use of American soldiers in the Western Hemisphere in World War II. An invasion force of about eighty thousand Americans and twenty-seven thousand British landed in Morocco and in Algeria. Some of the wounded from this campaign were transported to Halloran General Hospital in the Willowbrook