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"My Impressions of World War II" - Life Magazine 8/89 [3]
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"My Impressions of World War II" - Life Magazine 8/89 [3]
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S
FOIA
MARKER
This is not a textual record. This is used as an
administrative marker by the George Bush Presidential
Library Staff.
Record Group/Collection:
George H.W. Bush Presidential Records
Collection/Office of Origin:
Speechwriting, White House Office of
Series:
Speech File Draft Files
Subseries:
Chron File, 1989-1993
OA/ID Number:
13499
Folder ID Number:
13499-008
Folder Title:
"My Impressions of World War II" - Life Magazine 8/89 [3]
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Section:
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25
6
4
5
WORKING DRAFT
MY IMPRESSIONS -- WORLD WAR II
89 JUL 28 P2: 03
December 7, 1941
I was walking across the campus at Andover when I heard the news.
I was 17. It came as a shock -- a jolt -- an awakening. I did
not fully comprehend world affairs. My interests were our
undefeated soccer season just finished, basketball -- baseball
coming up. Christmas vacation only a couple of weeks away,
graduation, then college. Things changed instantly. I knew
right then that I wanted to go into the service.
December 8, 1941
Our headmaster, a great historian and tough disciplinarian,
summoned us all into George Washington Hall, the school's
assembly place. There was the normal joking, kidding, sloppy
posture. Dr. Fuess called to order the 800 students by saying
something like this: "your country is at war. We have just
played the Star Spangled Banner. From now on when the Star
Spangled Banner is played you will stand at attention, hands at
your sides and you will show respect." From that day on, without
fail, I have stood at attention when the Star Spangled Banner was
played.
2
WORKING DRAFT
Early June 1942
Secretary of War Henry Stimson, an alumnus of Andover, gave the
commencement address. He encouraged the graduating class to get
some college education before serving. I was determined not to
go on to college but to become a Navy pilot. Secretary Stimson
was a towering world figure but I wondered about this call of
his.
June 12, 1942
On my 18th birthday I was sworn into the Navy as a Seaman 2nd
Class, the first step towards becoming a Navy pilot. The Navy
had just changed the rules. It no longer required two years of
college before becoming a Navy pilot; pilots were urgently
needed. The Navy moved to accept High School graduates for pilot
training. Walter Levering, LT USNR, swore me in at Boston. I
went on active duty as an Aviation Cadet August 6, 1942.
August 6, 1942
Active duty at last. I climb on a southbound train at Penn
Station. My dad was a big, strong guy. He put his arm around me
and said goodbye. I'd never seen my dad shed a tear before.
3
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1943
Having been stationed at Chapel Hill for preflight, Minneapolis
for Primary Training, and Corpus Christi for Advanced, I received
my Navy wings and Ensign's Commission June 4. I was still 18
years old. I wanted to fly in combat. All my classmates wanted
to fly in combat. Our country was at war -- united. I selected
Torpedo Bombers.
.I fell in love early on with the 'low and
slow' TBF. The Grumman Avenger carried 2,000 lbs. of bombs, the
biggest single engine aircraft in the fleet. It had a crew of 3.
I went off to Fort Lauderdale to learn to fly it. Training up
and down the East coast, dropping torpedoes off Cape Cod, bombs
and torpedoes in Lake Okechobee, Florida, Chincoteague, Virginia,
Charleston Rhode Island, Miami.
I saw 'em all. I had an
Ensign's stripe and an Admiral's confidence. I was a Navy pilot.
Spring - Summer 1944
I was assigned to Air Group 51, the first air group to be aboard
the new fast Carrier San Jacinto, CVL 30. We went on a "shake
down cruise" to Trinidad, put San Jac into Commission at
Philadelphia, headed for the Pacific via the Panama Canal,
touched the USA one last time at San Diego and then went West.
4
WORKING DRAFT
Many of the Air Group and ship's company had spent no time at
sea. One roommate, subsequently killed, Tom Waters had a red
face, but the seas were so bad that his face literally turned
green.
We struck Wake Island on May 23, 1944. My close friend and
roommate, Jim Wykes went off on a search mission, and never came
back. I lay in my upper bunk and cried for my friend. No-one
saw me -- that wouldn't do.
September 2, 1944
Over Chi Chi Jima, my plane was hit by anti-aircraft fire at
about 8:30 a.m. The submarine FINBACK picked me out of the water
close to the Japanese held island of Chi Chi Jima. I learned
later that my crewmen were killed. In that life raft for about 2
hours, wondering if my life would be spared, I prayed to God, I
was sick to my stomach and again I shed a tear. I was a very
scared kid, just 20, away from his mother and dad, paddling
against the wind trying to get further away from the Japanese
held island.
5
WORKING DRAFT
September 1944 -- aboard the FINBACK in Japanese waters
The Submarine stayed on its war patrol, and I along with 2 other
rescued pilots and 2 crewmen spent the next 30 days standing
watch and counting my blessings. We got depth charged by
Japanese ships. The submariners in Finback didn't seem too
concerned about that, but Jim Beckman, Tom Keene and I, the 3
rescued pilots, didn't like that a bit. Finback's skipper won a
silver star for sinking Japanese ships.
October 1944
Back in Pearl Harbor for a week at a "rest home" -- some flying,
then hitch hiked back to the fleet -- Task Force 38 under Admiral
Bull Halsey off the Philippines. I wondered at the tremendous
Naval power I saw in and around Pearl Harbor and at Ulithe Atoll.
You could feel things moving our way. We were shown the pictures
of Japanese atrocities. It was Hirohito's fault. Hitler was
beginning to get kicked hard in Europe but for us there was one
unifying symbol -- Hirohito and the evil he represented. I
wanted badly to rejoin my squadron -- to fly more, to do my part.
November 1944
I flew my final combat mission over Luzon Bay, November 19, 1944.
Puffs of antiaircraft fire, black and menacing, but nothing like
the concentrated fire over Chi Chi Jima. Still you wonder.
6
WORKING DRAFT
There was a sense of exhilaration in our ready room. We were
going home. We'd probably make it in time for Christmas.
Several of our VT 51 squadron mates had been killed, but that was
accepted. The war had us together on one track. In a sense, the
ferocity of the battle helped heal the hurt for our fallen
comrades. It was our duty, our honor. We were fighting for the
USA against tyranny. The Country was united. We, on a carrier,
were a part of something great and good. At times we were
scared, but there were never any doubts.
Christmas Eve 1944
I arrive home. I stop at the Rye Station on the way to
Greenwich. There my fiancee, Barbara, climbs on the train. We
go the 10 minutes to Greenwich. My mother and dad meet us. I
was glad to be home for Christmas. I was glad to be surrounded
by love. At church the next day, Christmas Day, I counted my
blessings. I thanked God I was home -- and in the quiet of our
church I thought about Jim Wykes, Dick Houle, Ted White, John
Delaney, and the others who would never come home for Christmas.
I think I asked "Why," but there was not any agony about the
cause. There were no divisions about the War. We were right,
God was on our side.
7
WORKING DRAFT
We had suffered a surprise attack and, now three years later we
were winning; and I, a 20 year old Lt. (j.g.) was part of the
greatest fighting force in the world. I had grown up. I had
flown with the best off a great carrier that flew the Texas flag
into battle. I was part of a team. We cared about each other in
our squadron. We understood each other's fears and loves. We
played together, sang together, flew together. We bitched about
our Squadron Commander -- too tough, too demanding, too serious.
But we loved to fly on his wing -- we respected Don Melvin.
If we hot dogged it or risked the lives of the ship's crew by
some careless maneuver, Captain Beauty Martin would kick some
serious butt, but he was our Captain and we bragged about him.
He didn't know me from Adam's off Ox. But why should he -- I had
one stripe, finally 1 1/2, and he had 4. We gave him a lot of
room. We gave him a lot of respect.
We were the best pilots. When we ground-looped on land, it was
that damned gust of wind, or it was low hydraulics in the left
brake. When we missed the proper wire landing on the carrier, it
was that crazy landing signal officer.
"Damn fool, had me too
high all the way in, or too fast, or too slow"; but we never told
him. He held our lives in his hands.
8
WORKING DRAFT
And besides, the skipper always thought he was right.
We were the best
cocky devils, sure of our ability, sure of
our mission. 20 years old, and we knew exactly what had to done.
We knew we were right and that we would win.
Winter - Spring 1945
Barbara and I were married January 6th. We had time for a
honeymoon, then off we went to carrier re-qualification in the
Great Lakes. We bought our first car -- a 1941 Plymouth -- price
$350 and drive across Canada to join our squadron in Lewiston,
Maine. Up and down the East Coast in VT 153, a new torpedo
squadron manned by some of my pals from VT 51. I checked out in
the F4U, the hot-shot gull wing Corsair fighter.
and for a
moment I wondered if "low and slow" was good enough for me
anymore. A fleeting thought only, since by now the feel of the
TBF was a part of my very existence. The TBF was a forgiving
airplane -- and though I was a pretty good pilot, I'd still make
some pilot's errors that needed forgiveness.
9
WORKING DRAFT
August 1945
I'm just 21 now. We are based in Virginia. Barbara and I are
having more time together. As our new squadron, with orders in
hand to go back to the Pacific, starts our final training.
the
war ends. I'll never forget the screaming and the cheering and
the dancing in the street and the praying. Bar and I went to
church and we said thanks. The War's end meant we would not have
to be separated, and that I would not have to cover any more
landings of marines on beaches -- seeing them get slaughtered as
the Japanese dug in to defend their homeland.
September 18, 1945
I am discharged from the Navy on "points" and now I go to
college. The togetherness of it all disperses. We all re-focus.
It's soccer, baseball -- it's our first baby, and Economic
classes. Barbara and I know family joy, and the happiness of
being at school and looking forward shortly thereafter to a new
life in our west. We have lots of new friends. The letters from
the shipmates slow down. They are finding their new way too.
10
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1948
A brand new college grad, my first job ahead, I drive to Odessa,
Texas. The war seems long ago, far behind -- ahead lies a whole
new exciting life.
January 20, 1989
I am sworn in as President of the United States. A TBF on a
float goes by in our Inaugural parade. On it are some squadron
mates from VT 51 and a couple of old submariners who were aboard
Finback when she picked me out of the drink off Chi Chi Jima.
They are smiling and waving. No-one knows who they are. But I
know.
February, 1989
I am in Japan for the funeral of Emperor Hirohito. It is an icy
cold day and the long ceremony is beautifully done. Sitting
there in the cold, surrounded by World leaders, I had time to
think. Yes, I thought about the burst of anti-aircraft fire from
Chi Chi Jima that killed my friends, but that thought did not
dominate. I thought about Hirohito going to call on MacArthur,
about Japan's remarkable recovery and about her democracy. I
thought about the quiet little man and his love of nature and how
that contrasted with the horrible pictures we saw 45 years
ago. .I thought of Japan. And I thought of forgiveness.
11
Our alliance is strong, our friendship is genuine. They are now
a democracy. How remarkable that is. Maybe Ted White, Jack
Delaney, and Jim Wykes did not die in vain. It was right that I
went back to Japan to the Emperor's funeral.
###
WORKING DRAFT
MY IMPRESSIONS -- WORLD WAR II
December 7, 1941
I was walking across the campus at Andover when I heard the news.
I was 17. It came as a shock -- a jolt -- an awakening. I did
not fully comprehend world affairs. My interests were our
undefeated soccer season just finished, basketball -- baseball
coming up. Christmas vacation only a couple of weeks away,
graduation, then college. Things changed instantly. I knew
right then that I wanted to go into the service.
December 8, 1941
Our headmaster, a great historian and tough disciplinarian,
summoned us all into George Washington Hall, the school's
assembly place. There was the normal joking, kidding, sloppy
claude M.
posture. Dr. Fuess called to order the 800 students by saying
something like this: "Your country is at war. We have just
played the Star Spangled Banner. From now on when the Star
Spangled Banner is played you will stand at attention, hands at
your sides and you will show respect.' From that day on, without
fail, I have stood at attention when the Star Spangled Banner was
played.
2
WORKING DRAFT
Early June 1942
Secretary of War Henry Stimson, an alumnus of Andover, gave the
-
Commencement Address. He encouraged the graduating class to get
No
some college education before serving. I was determined not to
go on to college but to become a Navy pilot. Secretary Stimson
was a towering world figure but I wondered about this call of
his.
June 12, 1942
On my 18th birthday I was sworn into the Navy as a Seaman 2nd
Class, the first step towards becoming a Navy pilot. The Navy
had just changed the rules. It no longer required two years of
delete
college before becoming a Navy pilot; pilots were urgently
fellow
1
needed. The Navy moved to accept High School graduates for priot
training. Walter Levering, LT USNR, swore me in at Boston. I
went on active duty as an Aviation Cadet August 6, 1942.
August 6, 1942
lelete
2
fellow
Active
duty
at
last. I climb on a southbound train at Penn
Station. My dad was a big, strong guy. He put his arm around me
and said goodbye. I'd never seen my dad shed a tear before.
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
3
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1943
Having been stationed at Chapel Hill for preflight, Minneapolis
for Primary Training, and Corpus Christi for Advanced, I received
9.D.R.
my Navy wings and Ensign's Commission June X. I was still 18
3. delete
years old. I wanted to fly in combat. All my classmates wanted
3 as well
yellow
to fly in Our country was at war -- united. I selected
Substitute
language
Torpedo Bombers.
.I fell in love early on with the 'low and
slow' TBF. The Grumman Avenger carried 2,000 lbs. Stet. of bombs, the
4
aton
00
4. delete
biggest single engine aircraft in the fleet. It had a crew of 3.
yellow
substitute
I went off to Fort Lauderdale to learn to fly it. Training up
language
and down the East coast, dropping torpedoes off Cape Cod, bombs Umm
a)
and torpedoes in Lake Okechobee, Florida, Chincoteague, Virginia,
bombs
3
Charleston Rhode Island, Miami.
I saw 'em all. I had an
Ensign's stripe and an Admiral's confidence. I was a Navy pilot.
Spring - Summer 1944
5. delete
5
yellow
I was assigned to Air Group 51, the first group to be aboard
6
the new fast Carrier San Jacinto, CVL 30. We went on a shake
6.delete
down cruise to Trinidad, put San Jac into Commission at
yellow
Philadelphia, headed for the Pacific via the Panama Canal,
touched the USA one last time at San Diego and then went West.
Search Sandacinto all CAPS
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
4
WORKING DRAFT
Many of the Air Group and ship's company had spent no time at
sea. One roommate, subsequently killed, Tom Waters had a red
face, but the seas were so bad that his face literally turned
green.
We struck Wake Island on May 23, 1944. My close friend and
roommate, Jim Wykes went off on a search mission, and never came
back. I lay in my upper bunk and cried for my friend. No-one
saw me
that wouldn't do.
September 2, 1944 Mission number 50
Over Chi Chi Jima, my plane was hit by anti-aircraft fire at
about 8:30 a.m. The submarine FINBACK picked me out of the water
close to the Japanese held island of Chi Chi Jima. I learned
later that my crewmen were killed. In that life raft for about 2) 2
L'es
7. delete
hours, wondering if my life would be spared, I prayed to God, I
yellow
7 Cried
was sick to my stomach and again I
shed
Substitute
tear
I was a very
language
scared kid, just 20, away from his mother and dad, paddling
8
farther
against the wind trying to get further away from the Japanese
8 delete
held island.
S
yellow
Substitute
language
Search Finback all CAPS
FINBACK
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
ot
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
5
WORKING DRAFT
9.clelete
yellow
9
September
1944
the
FINDACK
in
Japanese
waters
10. substitate
10
FINEACIC
7
in Japanese waters)
language
The Submarine stayed on its war, patrol and I along with 2 other
11.
rescued pilots and 2 crewmen spent the next 30 days standing
addition
watch and counting my blessings. We got depth charged by
12
12. CAPS
Japanese ships. The submariners in Finback didn't seem too
concerned about that, but Jim Beckman, Tom Keene and I, the 3
13
13. CAPS
rescued pilots, didn't like that a bit. Finback's skipper won a
silver star for sinking Japanese ships.
October 1944
yes
14
exteshey flying
14.delete
Back in Pearl Harbor for a week at a "rest home some flying,
yellow
then hitch hiked back to the fleet -- Task Force 38 under Admiral
Bull Halsey off the Philippines. I wondered at the tremendous
SB.
15 delete
15
16
yellow
Naval power 1 Saw in and around Pearl Harbor and at UNithe Atoll.
thre,
6
You could feel things moving our way. We were shown the pictures
an
.delete
yellow
of Japanese atrocities. It was Hirohito's fault. Hitler was
beginning to get kicked hard in Europe but for us there was one
unifying symbol -- Hirohito and the evil he represented. I
wanted badly to rejoin my squadron -- to fly more, to do my part.
29,
November, 1944
Luzon Area- Provence in Phillipines
29
17
17. delete
I flew my final combat mission over Luzon Bay, November 19, 1941.
yellow
Puffs of antiaircraft fire, black and menacing, but nothing like
the concentrated fire over Chi Chi Jima. Still you wonder.
mission in combat zone
58th
6
WORKING DRAFT
18. delete
There was a sense of exhilaration in our ready room. We were
yellow
18
going home. We'd probably make it in time for Christmas.
Several of our VT 51 squadron mates had been killed, but that was
19
19 delete
accepted. The together on brack. In a sense, the
yellow
ferocity of the battle helped heal the hurt for our fallen
comrades. It was our duty, our honor. We were fighting for the
USA against tyranny. The Country was united. We, on a carrier,
were a part of something great and good. At times we were
scared, but there were never any doubts.
20
Christmas Eve 1944
(N.Y.)
20.
I arrive home. I stop at the Rye Station on the way to
addition
Greenwich. There my fiancee, Barbara, climbs on the train. We
go the 10 minutes to Greenwich. My mother and dad meet us. I
was glad to be home for Christmas. I was glad to be surrounded
21
leave
by love. At church the next day, Christmas Day, I counted my
21. delete
yellow
blessings. I thanked God I was home -- and in the quiet of our
Som aters
church I thought about Jim Wykes, Dick Houle V Ted White, John
Delaney, and the others who would never come home for Christmas.
22
22. delete
Include
I asked "Why," but there was not any agony about the
yellow
cause. There were no divisions about the War. We were right,
God was on our side.
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
7
WORKING DRAFT
We had suffered a surprise attack and, now three years later we
were winning; and I, a 20 year old Lt. (j.g.) was part of the
greatest fighting force in the world. I had grown up. I had
flown with the best off a great carrier that flew the Texas flag
into battle. I was part of a team. We cared about each other in
our squadron. We understood each other's fears and loves. We
played together, sang together, flew together. We bitched about
our Squadron Commander -- too tough, too demanding, too serious.
But we loved to fly on his wing -- we respected Don Melvin.
If we hot dogged it or risked the lives of the ship's crew by
Harold Mill
11 S.B.
some careless maneuver, Captain Beauty Martin would kick some
serious butt, but he was our Captain and we bragged about him.
He didn't know me from Adam's off Ox. But why should he -- I had
one stripe, finally 1 1/2, and he had 4. We gave him a lot of
room. We gave him a lot of respect.
We were the best pilots. When we ground-looped on land, it was
that damned gust of wind, or it was low hydraulics in the left
brake. When we missed the proper wire landing on the carrier, it
was that crazy landing signal officer.
"Damn fool, had me too
high all the way in, or too fast, or too slow"; but we never told
him. He held our lives in his hands.
8
WORKING DRAFT
And besides, the skipper always thought he was right.
23.delete
We were the best.
cocky devils, sure of our ability, sure of
yellow
23
24
our mission.
we knew exactly what had to done.
24.addition We knew 25 right and that we would win.
26.delete
yellow
Winter - Spring 1945
Barbara and I were married January 6th. We had time for a
honeymoon then off we went to carrier re-qualification in the
Great Lakes. We bought our first car -- a 1941 Plymouth -- price
$350 and drive across Canada to join our squadron in Lewiston,
Maine. Up and down the East Coast in VT 153, a new torpedo
squadron manned by some of my pals from VT 51. I checked out in
the F4U, the hot-shot gull wing Corsair fighter.
and for a
moment I wondered if "low and slow" was good enough for me
anymore. A fleeting thought only, since by now the feel of the
TBF was a part of my very existence. The TBF was a forgiving
airplane -- and though I was a pretty good pilot, I'd still make
some pilot's errors that needed forgiveness.
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
9
WORKING DRAFT
14
? optional Japan Sor. date
August A 1945
I'm just 21 now. We are based in Virginia. Barbara and I are
having more time together. As our new squadron, with orders in
hand to go back to the Pacific, starts our final training. the
war ends. I'll never forget the screaming and the cheering and
the dancing in the street and the praying. Bar and I went to
church and we said thanks. The War's end meant we would not have
to be separated, and that I would not have to cover any more
landings- of marines on beaches -- seeing them get slaughtered as
the Japanese dug in to defend their homeland.
2
00
September 18, 1945
L fortime spent
A
spentinsewice &
I am discharged from the Navy on "points" and now I go to rendered)
26.substitote
college. The togetherness of it all 26 gone We all re-focus.
language
It's soccer, baseball -- it's our first baby, and Economic
classes. Barbara and I know family joy, and the happiness of
being at school and looking forward shortly thereafter to a new
life in our west. We have lots of new friends. The letters from
the shipmates slow down. They are finding their new way too.
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
10
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1948
27. delete
A brand new college grad, my first job ahead, I drive to Odessa,
yellow
21
Texas. The war seems far behind -- ahead lies a whole
new exciting life.
January 20, 1989
I am sworn in as President of the United States. A TBF on a
float goes by in our Inaugural parade. On it are some squadron
SUB
mates from VT 51 and a couple of old submariners who were aboard
28. CAPS
28
Finback when she picked me out of the drink off Chi Chi Jima.
They are smiling and waving. No-one knows who they are. But I
know.
February, 1989
I am in Japan for the funeral of Emperor Hirohito. It is an icy
cold day and the long ceremony is beautifully done. Sitting
there in the cold, surrounded by World leaders, I had time to
think. Yes, I thought about the burst of anti-aircraft fire from
Chi Chi Jima that killed my friends, but that thought did not
dominate. I thought about Hirohito going to call on MacArthur,
about Japan's remarkable recovery and about her democracy. I
thought about the quiet little man and his love of nature and how
that contrasted with the horrible pictures we saw 45 years
ago.
.I thought of Japan. And I thought of forgiveness.
Photocopy-GB Handwriting
11
Our alliance is strong, our friendship is genuine. They are now
a democracy. How remarkable that is. Maybe Ted White, Jack
Honle
and
Waters
Delaney, and Jim Wykes did not die in vain. It was right that I
went back to Japan to the Emperor's funeral.
###
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON
Ide)
FACSIMILE TRANSMITTAL SHEET
NUMBER OF PAGES INCLUDING COVER
4
DATE 8/1
TO
Mary Simons
FAX NUMBER
(212) 522-0908
OFFICE NUMBER
COMMENTS
FROM
Kristin Lear
FAX NUMBER
(202) 456-6218
OFFICE NUMBER
456-2930
June 12, 1942
This event occurred at the Naval Aviation Cadet Selection Board
on the sixth floor at 150 Causeway Boulevard. Facing Lt.
Levering to take the oath in the presence of a few Naval
personnel, I was a scared, nervous kid wondering what was in
store for me. This took only a few minutes but it seemed like an
hour to me. When I departed Lt. Levering's office exuberance had
replaced my nervousness. I had become an aviation cadet and
would go on active duty August 6, 1942. Lt. Levering later wrote
me a letter saying I had a made a wise decision to join the best
program in any of the armed services.
August 6, 1942
The evening of August 3, my last at home, I had dinner with my
family. The next day I climb on a southbound train at Penn
Station. My dad was a big, strong guy. He put his arm around me
and said goodbye. I'd never seen my dad shed a tear before.
Arriving in Chapel Hill, North Carolina on August 5, preflight
training would begin bright and early the next morning. It was
here that I met my great friend, Ted Williams, "The Splendid
Splinter" of the Boston Red Sox. We all stood in awe in the
presence of the famous hitter who was in the same program.
September 2
On this day at 0715, a division of VT-51, composed of Commander
Don Melvin, Doug West, Milt Moore and myself, took off from the
San Jacinto (my 50th combat mission) flying about seventy miles
2
to destroy two radio stations at Chichi Jima in the Bonin
Islands. Upon reaching the target area, the sky was thick with
black clouds of exploding enemy antiaircraft fire. Don Melvin
led the attack on the target, followed by Doug West and then me.
At about 0830 and moments after pushing over into my dive at 8000
feet, I felt a jolt like a giant fist had rammed into the belly
of the plane. My plane had been hit in the engine area. Smoke
poured into the cockpit and flames were spreading aft toward the
fuel tanks in the wings. Navy training had taught us to complete
the mission. I instinctively continued in the dive, homed in on
the target, unloaded our four 500 hundred pound bombs, pulled
away heading East toward the sea. A few miles from shore, I told
my crewmen, Ted White and John Delaney, to bail out. When
bailing out my head struck a glancing blow on the tail of the
plane momentarily knocking me out. As I was landing in the
water, the Japanese sent two boats out after me. Melvin, West
and Moore along with our Hellcat fighter escorts drove the boats
away. I was in the life raft about two hours, wondering if my
life would be spared, I prayed to God, I was sick to my stomach
and again I cried. I was a very scared kid, just 20, away from
his mother and dad, paddling against the wind trying to get
farther away from the Japanese held island. I later learned that
my crewmen were killed. Observers said that two persons were
seen leaving the plane. The parachute of the other person never
opened, but mine did. God had spared me from that fate for
whatever reason. Hellcat fighter pilots flew over my raft until
3
I was rescued by the American submarine, U.S.S. Finback around
noon.
Winter - Spring, 1945
Having been engaged since the Fall of 1943 while training up and
down the East Coast, on January 6, 1945, Barbara Pierce and I
exchanged wedding VOWS at the Presbyterian Church in Rye, New
York, proudly wearing my Navy uniform. My VT-51 squadron mates,
Richard B. Playstead and Milton Moore were in attendance. We had
time for a honeymoon at Sea Isle, Georgia.
I.A. June 12, 1942
This event occurred at the Naval Aviation Cadet Selection Board
on the sixth floor at 150 Causeway Boulevard. Facing Lt.
Levering to take the oath in the presence of a few Naval
personnel, I was a scared, nervous kid wondering what was in
store for me. This took only a few minutes but it seemed like an
hour to me. When I departed Lt. Levering's office exuberance had
replaced my nervousness. I had become an aviation cadet and
would go on active duty August 6, 1942. Lt. Levering later wrote
me a letter saying I had a made a wise decision to join the best
program in any of the armed services.
I.B. August 6, 1942
The evening of August 3, my last at home, I had dinner with my
family. The next day I climb on a southbound train at Penn
Station. My dad was a big, strong guy. He put his arm around me
and said goodbye. I'd never seen my dad shed a tear before.
Arriving in Chapel Hill, North Carolina on August 5, preflight
training would begin bright and early the next morning.
It was
here that I met my great friend, Ted Williams, "The Splendid
Splinter" of the Boston Red Sox. We all stood in awe in the
presence of the famous hitter who was in the same program.
3.A September 2
On this day at 0715, a division of VT-51, composed of Commander
Don Melvin, Doug West, Milt Moore and myself, took off from the
San Jacinto (my 50th combat mission) flying about seventy miles
2 Chichi Jima
to destroy two radio stations at Chi Chi Jima in the Bonin
Islands. Upon reaching the target area, the sky was thick with
black clouds of exploding enemy antiaircraft fire. Don Melvin
led the attack on the target, followed by Doug West and then me.
At about 0830 and moments after pushing over into my dive at 8000
feet, I felt a jolt like a giant fist had rammed into the belly
of the plane. My plane had been hit in the engine area. Smoke
poured into the cockpit and flames were spreading aft toward the
fuel tanks in the wings. Navy training had taught us to complete
the mission. I instinctively continued in the dive, homed in on
the target, unloaded our four 500 hundred pound bombs, pulled
away heading East toward the sea. A few miles from shore, I told
my crewmen, Ted White and John Delaney, to bail out. When
bailing out my head struck a glancing blow on the tail of the
plane momentarily knocking me out. As I was landing in the
water, the Japanese sent two boats out after me. Melvin, West
and Moore along with our Hellcat fighter escorts drove the boats
away. I was in the life raft about two hours, wondering if my
life would be spared, I prayed to God, I was sick to my stomach
and again I cried. I was a very scared kid, just 20, away from
his mother and dad, paddling against the wind trying to get
farther away from the Japanese held island. I later learned that
my crewmen were killed. Observers said that two persons were
seen leaving the plane. The parachute of the other person never
opened, but mine did. God had spared me from that fate for
whatever reason. Hellcat fighter pilots flew over my raft until
3
I was rescued by the American submarine, U.S.S. Finback around
noon.
5.A. Winter - Spring, 1945
Having been engaged since the Fall of 1943 while training up and
down the East Coast, on January 6, 1945, Barbara Pierce and I
exchanged wedding VOWS at the Presbyterian Church in Rye, New
York, proudly wearing my Navy uniform. My VT-51 squadron mate,
and Milton Moore
Richard B. Playstead was in attendance. We had time for a
I'M ere
honeymoon at Sea Isle, Georgia.
June 12, 1942
Insert after "Boston.
This event occurred at the Naval Aviation Cadet Selection Board on
the sixth floor at 150 Causeway Boulevard. Facing Lt. Levering to
take the oath in the presence of a few Naval personnel, I was a
scared, nervous kid wondering what was in store for me. This took
only a few minutes but it seemed like an hour to me. When I departed
Lt. Levering's office exuburance had replaced my nervousness. I had
become an aviation cadet and would go on active duty August 6, 1942.
Lt. Levering later wrote me a letter saying I had made a wise decision
to join the best program in any of the armed services.
August 6, 1942
The evening of August 3, my last at home, I had dinner with my family.
The next day I climb on a southbound train at Penn Station. My dad
was a big, strong guy. He put his arm around me and said goodbye.
I'd never seen my dad shed a tear before. Arriving in Chapel Hill,
North Carolina on August 5, preflight training would begin bright
and early the next morning. It was here that I met my great friend,
Ted Williams, "The Splendid Splinter" of the Boston Red Sox. We all
stood in awe in the presence of the famous hitter who was in the same
program.
September 2
On this day at 0715, a division of VT-51, composed of Commander Don
Melvin, Doug West, Milt Moore and myself, took off from the San
Jacinto (my 50th combat mission) flying about seventy miles to destroy
two radio stations at Chi Chi Jima in the Bonin Islands. Upon reaching
the target area, the sky was thick with black clouds of exploding enemy
antiaircraft fire. Don Melvin led the attack on the target, followed
by Doug West and then me. At about 0830 and moments after pushing over
into my dive at 8000 feet, I felt a jolt like a giant fist had rammed
into the belly of the plane. My plane had been hit in the engine area.
Smoke poured into the cockpit and flames were spreading aft toward the
fuel tanks in the wings. Navy training had taught us to complete the
mission. I instinctively continued in the dive, homed in on the target,
unloaded our four 500 hundred pound bombs, pulled away heading East
toward the sea. Approximately afew nine miles from shore, I told my
crewmen, Ted White and John Delaney, to bail out. When bailing out
my head struck a glancing blow on the tail of the plane momentarily
knocking me out. As I was landing in the water, the Japanese sent
two boats out after me. Melvin, West and Moore along with our Hellcat
fighter escorts drove the boats away. I was in the life raft about
two hours, wondering if my life would be spared, I prayed to God, I
was sick to my stomach and again I cried. I was a very scared kid,
just 20, away from his mother and dad, paddling against the wind
trying to get farther away from the Japanese held island. I later
learned that my crewmen were killed. Observers said that two persons
were seen leaving the plane. The parachute of the other person never
opened, but mine did. God had spared me from that fate for whatever
reason. Hellcat fighter pilots flew over my raft until I was rescued
by the American submarine, U.S.S. Finback around noon.
ment
WINTER - Spring 1945
Having been engaged since the Fall of 1943 while training up and down
the East Coast, on January 6, 1945, Barbara Pierce and I exchanged
wedding VOWS at the Presbyterian Church in Rye, New York, proudly
wearing my Navy uniform. My VT-51 squadron mate, Richard B. Playstead,
was in attendance. We had time for a honeymoon at Sea Isle, Georgia.
FINAL
WORKING DRAFT
MY IMPRESSIONS -- WORLD WAR II
December 7, 1941
I was walking across the campus at Andover when I heard the news.
I was 17. It came as a shock -- a jolt -- an awakening. I did
not fully comprehend world affairs. My interests were our
undefeated soccer season just finished, basketball -- baseball
coming up. Christmas vacation only a couple of weeks away,
graduation, then college. Things changed instantly. I knew
right then that I wanted to go into the service.
December 8, 1941
Our headmaster, a great historian and tough disciplinarian,
summoned us all into George Washington Hall, the school's
assembly place. There was the normal joking, kidding, sloppy
posture. Dr. Claude M. Fuess called to order the 800 students by
saying something like this: "Your country is at war. We have
just played the STAR SPANGLED BANNER. From now on when the STAR
SPANGLED BANNER is played you will stand at attention, hands at
your sides and you will show respect." From that day on, without
fail, I have stood at attention when the national anthem is
played.
2
WORKING DRAFT
June 12, 1942
Secretary of War Henry Stimson, an alumnus of Andover, spoke at
our commencement. He encouraged the graduating class to get some
college education before serving. I was determined not to go on
to college but to become a Navy pilot. Secretary Stimson was a
towering world figure but I wondered about this call of his.
On the same day, my 18th birthday, I was sworn into the Navy as a
Seaman 2nd Class, the first step towards becoming a Navy pilot.
I was a scared, nervous kid. The Navy had just changed the
rules. It no longer required two years of college before
becoming a pilot; pilots were urgently needed. Walter Levering,
Lt. USNR, swore me in at Boston. I went on active duty as an
Aviation Cadet August 6, 1942.
August 6, 1942
I climbed on a southbound train at Penn Station. My dad was a
big, strong guy. He put his arm around me and said goodbye. I'd
never seen my dad shed a tear before. We arrived in Chapel Hill,
N.C. and I met "The Splendid Splinter" Ted Williams of the Boston
Red Sox, who later became a great friend. We all stood in awe of
the famous hitter who was in the same program.
3
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1943
Having been stationed at Chapel Hill for preflight, Minneapolis
for Primary Training, and Corpus Christi for Advanced, I received
my Navy wings and Ensign's Commission June 9. I was still 18
years old. I wanted to fly in combat. All my classmates wanted
to as well. I fell in love early on with the 'low and slow'
torpedo bombers. The Grumman Avenger carried 2,000 pounds of
bombs, the biggest single-engined aircraft in the fleet. It had
a crew of 3. I went off to Fort Lauderdale to learn to fly it.
Training up and down the East coast, dropping torpedoes off Cape
Cod, dummy bombs and torpedoes in Lake Okeechobee, Florida,
Chincoteague, Virginia, Charlestown, Rhode Island, Miami
.I
saw 'em all. I had an Ensign's stripe and an Admiral's
confidence. I was a Navy pilot.
Spring - Summer 1944
I was assigned to Air Group 51, the first to be aboard the new
fast Carrier SAN JACINTO, CVL 30. We went on a shake down cruise
to Trinidad, put SAN JAC into Commission at Philadelphia, headed
for the Pacific via the Panama Canal, touched the U.S. one last
time at San Diego and then went West.
4
WORKING DRAFT
Many of the Air Group and ship's company had spent no time at
sea. One roommate, subsequently killed, Tom Waters had a red
face, but the seas were so bad that his face literally turned
green.
We struck Wake Island on May 23, 1944. My close friend and other
roommate, Jim Wykes went off on a search mission, and never came
back. I lay in my upper bunk and cried for my friend. No-one
saw me -- that wouldn't do.
September 2
On this day at 0715, a division of VT-51, composed of Commander
Don Melvin, Doug West, Milt Moore and myself, took off from the
SAN JACINTO (my 50th combat mission) flying about seventy miles
to destroy two radio stations at Chichi Jima in the Bonin
Islands. At the target area, the sky was thick with black clouds
of exploding enemy antiaircraft fire. Don Melvin led the attack
on the target, followed by Doug West and then me. At about 0830,
and moments after pushing over into my dive at 8000 feet, I felt
a jolt as if a giant fist had rammed into the belly of the plane.
We'd been hit in the engine area. Smoke poured into the cockpit
and flames were spreading aft toward the fuel tanks in the wings.
Navy training had taught us to complete the mission.
5
I instinctively continued in the dive, homed in on the target,
unloaded our four 500 hundred pound bombs, pulled away heading
East toward the sea. A few miles from shore, I told my crewmen,
Ted White and John Delaney, to bail out. As I bailed out, my
head struck the tail of the plane momentarily knocking me out. I
was landing in the water, when the Japanese sent two boats out
after me. Melvin, West and Moore along with our Hellcat fighter
escorts drove the boats away. I was in the life raft about two
hours, wondering if my life would be spared. I prayed to God, I
was sick to my stomach and again I cried. I was a very scared
kid, just 20, away from his mother and dad, paddling against the
wind trying to get farther from the Japanese held island. I
later learned that my crewmen had been killed. Observers said
that two persons were seen leaving the plane. The parachute of
the other never opened, but mine did. God had spared me from
that fate for whatever reason. Hellcat fighter pilots flew over
my raft until I was rescued by the submarine, U.S.S. FINBACK
around noon.
6
WORKING DRAFT
September 1944
FINBACK stayed on its war patrol in Japanese waters, and I along
with 2 other rescued pilots and 2 crewmen spent the next 30 days
standing watch and counting my blessings. We got depth charged
by Japanese ships. The submariners in FINBACK didn't seem too
concerned about that, but Jim Beckman, Tom Keene and I, the
rescued pilots, didn't like that a bit. FINBACK's skipper won a
silver star for sinking Japanese ships.
October 1944
Back in Pearl Harbor for a week at a "rest home" -- then after
some essential refresher flying, I hitchhiked back to the fleet -
- Task Force 38 under Admiral William "Bull" Halsey off the
Philippines. I wondered at the tremendous Naval power in and
around Pearl Harbor and at Ulithi Atoll. You could feel things
moving our way. We were shown the pictures of Japanese
atrocities. It was Hirohito's fault. Hitler was beginning to
get kicked hard in Europe but for us there was one unifying
symbol -- Hirohito and the evil he represented. I wanted badly
to rejoin my squadron -- to fly more, to do my part.
7
WORKING DRAFT
November 1944
I flew my final mission, the 58th, over Luzon area, November 29.
Puffs of antiaircraft fire, black and menacing, were nothing like
the concentrated fire over Chichi Jima. still you wonder. There
was a sense of exhilaration in our ready room. We were going
home. We'd probably make it for Christmas. Several of our VT-51
squadron mates had been killed, but that was accepted. In a
sense, the ferocity of the battle helped heal the hurt. It was
our duty, our honor. We were fighting for the USA against
tyranny. The Country was united. We, on a carrier, were a part
of something great and good. At times we were scared, but there
were never any doubts.
Christmas Eve 1944
I arrive home. I stop at the Rye, N.Y. Station on the way to
Greenwich. There my fiancee, Barbara, climbs on the train. We
go the 10 minutes to Greenwich. My mother and dad meet us. I
was glad to be home for Christmas Day. I counted my blessings.
I was glad to be surrounded by love. At church the next day,
Christmas, I thanked God I was home -- and in the quiet of our
church I thought about Jim Wykes, Dick Houle, Tom Waters, Ted
White, John Delaney, and the others who would never come home for
Christmas.
8
WORKING DRAFT
I asked "Why," but there was not any agony about the cause.
There were no divisions about the War. We were right, God was on
our side. We had suffered a surprise attack and now, three years
later we were winning; and I, a 20 year old Lt., (j.g.) was part
of the greatest fighting force in the world. I had grown up. I
had flown with the best off a great carrier that flew the Texas
flag into battle. I was part of a team. We cared about each
other in our squadron. We understood each other's fears and
loves. We played together, sang together, flew together. We
bitched about our Squadron Commander -- too tough, too demanding,
too serious. But we loved to fly on his wing -- we respected Don
Melvin.
If we hot dogged it or risked the lives of the ship's crew by
some careless maneuver, Captain Harold M. "Beauty" Martin would
kick some serious butt, but we bragged about him. He didn't know
me from Adam's off OX. But why should he -- I had one stripe,
finally 1 1/2, and he had 4. We gave him a lot of room, a lot of
respect.
We were the best pilots. When we ground-looped on land, it was
that damned gust of wind, or it was low hydraulics in the left
brake. When we missed the proper wire landing on the carrier, it
was that crazy landing signal officer
9
"Damn fool, had me too high all the way in, or too fast, or too
slow"; but we never told him. He held our lives in his hands.
And besides, the skipper always thought he was right.
We were the best
cocky devils, sure of our ability, sure of
our mission. We knew exactly what had to be done. We knew we
would win.
Winter - Spring 1945
Having been engaged since the Fall of 1943 while I was training
up and down the East Coast, on January 6, 1945, Barbara Pierce
and I exchanged wedding VOWS at the Church in Rye, N.Y. I was
proudly wearing my Navy uniform. My VT-51 squadron mates,
Richard B. Playstead and Milton Moore were in attendance.
Barbara and I had time for a honeymoon at Sea Isle, Georgia.
Then off we went to carrier re-qualification in the Great Lakes.
We bought our first car -- a 1941 Plymouth -- price $350 and
drove across Canada to join our squadron in Lewiston, Maine. Up
and down the East Coast in VT-153, a new torpedo squadron manned
by some of my pals from VT-51. I checked out in the F4U, the
hot-shot gull wing Corsair fighter.
and for a moment I
wondered if "low and slow" was good enough for me anymore. A
fleeting thought only, since by now the feel of the TBF was a
part of my very existence. The TBF was a forgiving airplane --
and though I was a pretty good pilot, I'd still make some pilot's
errors that needed forgiveness.
10
WORKING DRAFT
August 14, 1945
I'm just 21 now. We are based in Virginia. Barbara and I are
having more time together. As our new squadron, with orders in
hand to go back to the Pacific, starts our final training, the
war ends. I'll never forget the screaming and the cheering and
the dancing in the street and the praying. Bar and I went to
church and we said thanks. The war's end meant we would not have
to be separated, and that I would not have to cover any more
landings of marines on beaches -- seeing them get slaughtered as
the Japanese dug in to defend their homeland.
September 18, 1945
I am discharged from the Navy on "points" and now I go to
college. The togetherness of it all is gone. We re-focus. It's
soccer, baseball -- it's our first baby, and economics classes.
Barbara and I know family joy, and the happiness of being at
school and looking forward shortly thereafter to a new life in
our West. We have lots of new friends. The letters from the
shipmates slow down. They are finding their new way, too.
11
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1948
A brand new college grad, my first job ahead, I drive to Odessa,
Texas. The war seems long ago, far behind -- ahead lies a whole
new exciting life.
January 20, 1989
I am sworn in as President of the United States. A TBF on a
float goes by in our Inaugural parade. On it are some squadron
mates from VT-51. They are smiling and waving. No one knows who
they are. But I know.
February, 1989
I am in Japan for the funeral of Emperor Hirohito. It is an icy
cold day and the long ceremony is beautifully done. Sitting
there in the cold, surrounded by World leaders, I had time to
think. Yes, I thought about the burst of antiaircraft fire from
Chichi Jima that killed my friends, but that thought did not
dominate. I thought about Hirohito going to call on MacArthur,
about Japan's remarkable recovery and about her democracy. I
thought about the quiet little man and his love of nature and how
that contrasted with the horrible pictures we saw 45 years
ago. .I thought of Japan. And I thought of forgiveness.
12
Our alliance is strong, our friendship is genuine. They are now
a democracy. How remarkable that is. Maybe Ted White, Jack
Delaney, Jim Wykes, Dick Houle and Tom Waters did not die in
vain. It was right that I went back to Japan to the Emperor's
funeral.
###
WORKING DRAFT
MY IMPRESSIONS -- WORLD WAR II
December 7, 1941
I was walking across the campus at Andover when I heard the news.
I was 17. It came as a shock -- a jolt -- an awakening. I did
not fully comprehend world affairs. My interests were our
undefeated soccer season just finished, basketball -- baseball
coming up. Christmas vacation only a couple of weeks away,
graduation, then college. Things changed instantly. I knew
right then that I wanted to go into the service.
December 8, 1941
Our headmaster, a great historian and tough disciplinarian,
summoned us all into George Washington Hall, the school's
assembly place. There was the normal joking, kidding, sloppy
posture. Dr. Claude M. Fuess called to order the 800 students by
saying something like this: "Your country is at war. We have
just played the STAR SPANGLED BANNER. From now on when the STAR
SPANGLED BANNER is played you will stand at attention, hands at
your sides and you will show respect." From that day on, without
fail, I have stood at attention when the national anthem was
played.
2
WORKING DRAFT
June 12; 1942
Secretary of War Henry Stimson, an alumnus of Andover, spoke at
our commencement. He encouraged the graduating class to get some
college education before serving. I was determined not to go on
to college but to become a Navy pilot. Secretary Stimson was a
towering world figure but I wondered about this call of his.
On the same day, my 18th birthday, I was sworn into the Navy as a
Seaman 2nd Class, the first step towards becoming a Navy pilot.
I was a scared, nervous kid. The Navy had just changed the
rules. It no longer required two years of college before
becoming a Navy pilot; pilots were urgently needed. Walter
Levering, Lt. USNR, swore me in at Boston. I went on active duty
as an Aviation Cadet August 6, 1942.
August 6, 1942
I climb on a southbound train at Penn Station. My dad was a big,
strong guy. He put his arm around me and said goodbye. I'd
never seen my dad shed a tear before. We arrived in Chapel Hill,
N.C. and I met my great friend "The Splendid Splinter" Ted
Williams of the Boston Red Sox. We all stood in awe of the
famous hitter who was in the same program.
3
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1943
Having been stationed at Chapel Hill for preflight, Minneapolis
for Primary Training, and Corpus Christi for Advanced, I received
my Navy wings and Ensign's Commission June 9. I was still 18
years old. I wanted to fly in combat. All my classmates wanted
to as well. I fell in love early on with the 'low and slow'
torpedo bombers. The Grumman Avenger carried 2,000 pounds of
bombs, the biggest single-engined aircraft in the fleet. It had
a crew of 3. I went off to Fort Lauderdale to learn to fly it.
Training up and down the East coast, dropping torpedoes off Cape
Cod, dummy bombs and torpedoes in Lake Okechobee, Florida,
Chincoteague, Virginia, Charleston, Rhode Island, Miami.
.I saw
Xx
'em all. I had an Ensign's stripe and an Admiral's confidence.
I was a Navy pilot.
Spring - Summer 1944
I was assigned to Air Group 51, the first to be aboard the new
fast Carrier SAN JACINTO, CVL 30. We went on a "shake down
cruise" to Trinidad, put SAN JAC into Commission at Philadelphia,
headed for the Pacific via the Panama Canal, touched the U.S. one
last time at San Diego and then went West.
4
WORKING DRAFT
Many of the Air Group and ship's company had spent no time at
sea. One roommate, subsequently killed, Tom Waters had a red
face, but the seas were so bad that his face literally turned
green.
We struck Wake Island on May 23, 1944. My close friend and
roommate, Jim Wykes went off on a search mission, and never came
back. I lay in my upper bunk and cried for my friend. No-one
saw me -- that wouldn't do.
September 2
On this day at 0715, a division of VT-51, composed of Commander
Don Melvin, Doug West, Milt Moore and myself, took off from the
SAN JACINTO (my 50th combat mission) flying about seventy miles
to destroy two radio stations at Chichi Jima in the Bonin
Islands. At reaching the target area, the sky was thick with
black clouds of exploding enemy antiaircraft fire. Don Melvin
led the attack on the target, followed by Doug West and then me.
At about 0830, and moments after pushing over into my dive at
8000 feet, I felt a jolt like a giant fist had rammed into the
belly of the plane. My plane had been hit in the engine area.
Smoke poured into the cockpit and flames were spreading aft
toward the fuel tanks in the wings. Navy training had taught us
to complete the mission.
5
I instinctively continued in the dive, homed in on the target,
unloaded our four 500 hundred pound bombs, pulled away heading
East toward the sea. A few miles from shore, I told my crewmen,
Ted White and John Delaney, to bail out. As I bailed out, my
head struck a glancing blow on the tail of the plane momentarily
knocking me out.
As
I was landing in the water, when the
Japanese sent two boats out after me. Melvin, West and Moore
along with our Hellcat fighter escorts drove the boats away. I
was in the life raft about two hours, wondering if my life would
be spared. I prayed to God, I was sick to my stomach and again I
cried. I was a very scared kid, just 20, away from his mother
and dad, paddling against the wind trying to get farther away
from the Japanese held island. I later learned that my crewmen
had been killed. Observers said that two persons were seen
leaving the plane. The parachute of the other person never
opened, but mine did. God had spared me from that fate for
whatever reason. Hellcat fighter pilots flew over my raft until
I was rescued by the American submarine, U.S.S. FINBACK around
noon.
6
WORKING DRAFT
September 1944
FINBACK stayed on its war patrol in Japanese waters, and I along
with 2 other rescued pilots and 2 crewmen spent the next 30 days
standing watch and counting my blessings. We got depth charged
by Japanese ships. The submariners in FINBACK didn't seem too
concerned about that, but Jim Beckman, Tom Keene and I, the
threw
rescued pilots, didn't like that a bit. FINBACK's skipper won a
silver star for sinking Japanese ships.
October 1944
Back in Pearl Harbor for a week at a "rest home" -- then after
some refresher flying, I hitchhiked back to the fleet -- Task
Force 38 under Admiral William "Bull" Halsey off the Philippines.
I wondered at the tremendous Naval power in and around Pearl
Harbor and at Ulithe Atoll. You could feel things moving our
way. We were shown the pictures of Japanese atrocities. It was
Hirohito's fault. Hitler was beginning to get kicked hard in
Europe but for us there was one unifying symbol -- Hirohito and
the evil he represented. I wanted badly to rejoin my squadron --
to fly more, to do my part.
7
WORKING DRAFT
November 1944
I flew my final combat mission the 58th, over Luzon Area,
November 29. Puffs of antiaircraft fire, black and menacing,
were nothing like the concentrated fire over Chi Chi Jima. Still
you wonder. There was a sense of exhilaration in our ready room.
We were going home. We'd probably make it for Christmas.
Several of our VT-51 squadron mates had been killed, but that was
accepted. In a sense, the ferocity of the battle helped heal the
hurt for our fallen comrades. It was our duty, our honor. We
were fighting for the USA against tyranny. The Country was
united. We, on a carrier, were a part of something great and
good. At times we were scared, but there were never any doubts.
Christmas Eve 1944
N.4.
I arrive home. I stop at the Rye Station on the way to
Greenwich. There my fiancee, Barbara, climbs on the train. We
go the 10 minutes to Greenwich. My mother and dad meet us. I
was glad to be home for Christmas Day. I counted my blessings.
I was glad to be surrounded by love. At church the next day,
Christmas, I thanked God I was home -- and in the quiet of our
church I thought about Jim Wykes, Dick Houle, Tom Waters, Ted
White, John Delaney, and the others who would never come home for
Christmas.
8
WORKING DRAFT
I asked "Why," but there was not any agony about the cause.
There were no divisions about the War. We were right, God was on
our side. We had suffered a surprise attack and now, three years
later we were winning; and I, a 20 year old Lt., (j.g.) was part
of the greatest fighting force in the world. I had grown up. I
had flown with the best off a great carrier that flew the Texas
flag into battle. I was part of a team. We cared about each
other in our squadron. We understood each other's fears and
loves. We played together, sang together, flew together. We
bitched about our Squadron Commander -- too tough, too demanding,
too serious. But we loved to fly on his wing -- we respected Don
Melvin.
If we hot dogged it or risked the lives of the ship's crew by
some careless maneuver, Captain Harold M. "Beauty" Martin would
kick some serious butt, but we bragged about him. He didn't know
me from Adam's off ox. But why should he -- I had one stripe,
finally 1 1/2, and he had 4. We gave him a lot of room, a lot of
respect.
We were the best pilots. When we ground-looped on land, it was
that damned gust of wind, or it was low hydraulics in the left
brake. When we missed the proper wire landing on the carrier, it
was that crazy landing signal officer
9
"Damn fool, had me too high all the way in, or too fast, or too
slow"; but we never told him. He held our lives in his hands.
And besides, the skipper always thought he was right.
We were the best.
cocky devils, sure of our ability, sure of
our mission. We knew exactly what had to done. We knew we would
win.
Winter - Spring 1945
Having been engaged since the Fall of 1943 while I was training
up and down the East Coast, on January 6, 1945, Barbara Pierce
and I exchanged wedding VOWS at the Church in Rye, N.Y. I was
proudly
wearing my Navy uniform. My VT-51 squadron mates, Richard B.
+
Playstead and Milton Moore were in attendance. Barbara and I had
time for a honeymoon at Sea Isle, Georgia. Then off we went to
carrier re-qualification in the Great Lakes. We bought our first
car -- a 1941 Plymouth -- price $350 and drove across Canada to
join our squadron in Lewiston, Maine. Up and down the East Coast
in VT-153, a new torpedo squadron manned by some of my pals from
VT-51. I checked out in the F4U, the hot-shot gull wing Corsair
+
fighter.
and for a moment I wondered if "low and slow" was
good enough for me anymore. A fleeting thought only, since by
now the feel of the TBF was a part of my very existence. The TBF
was a forgiving airplane -- and though I was a pretty good pilot,
I'd still make some pilot's errors that needed forgiveness.
10
WORKING DRAFT
August 14, 1945
I'm just 21 now. We are based in Virginia. Barbara and I are
having more time together. As our new squadron, with orders in
hand to go back to the Pacific, starts our final training, the
war ends. I'll never forget the screaming and the cheering and
the dancing in the street and the praying. Bar and I went to
church and we said thanks. The war's end meant we would not have
to be separated, and that I would not have to cover any more
landings of marines on beaches -- seeing them get slaughtered as
the Japanese dug in to defend their homeland.
September 18, 1945
I am discharged from the Navy on "points" and now I go to
college. The togetherness of it all is gone. We re-focus. It's
soccer, baseball -- it's our first baby, and economics classes.
Barbara and I know family joy, and the happiness of being at
school and looking forward shortly thereafter to a new life in
our West. We have lots of new friends. The letters from the
shipmates slow down. They are finding their new way, too.
11
WORKING DRAFT
June, 1948
A brand new college grad, my first job ahead, I drive to Odessa,
Texas. The war seems long ago, far behind -- ahead lies a whole
new exciting life.
January 20, 1989
I am sworn in as President of the United States. A TBF on a
float goes by in our Inaugural parade. On it are some squadron
mates from VT-51. They are smiling and waving. No one knows who
they are. But I know.
February, 1989
I am in Japan for the funeral of Emperor Hirohito. It is an icy
cold day and the long ceremony is beautifully done. Sitting
there in the cold, surrounded by World leaders, I had time to
think. Yes, I thought about the burst of antiaircraft fire from
Chi (Chi Jima that killed my friends, but that thought did not
dominate. I thought about Hirohito going to call on MacArthur,
about Japan's remarkable recovery and about her democracy. I
thought about the quiet little man and his love of nature and how
that contrasted with the horrible pictures we saw 45 years
ago. .I thought of Japan. And I thought of forgiveness.
12
Our alliance is strong, our friendship is genuine. They are now
a democracy. How remarkable that is. Maybe Ted White, Jack
Delaney, Ted White, Jack Delaney, Jim Wykes, Dick Houle and Tom
Waters did not die in vain. It was right that I went back to
Japan to the Emperor's funeral.
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