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Chapter 6
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INDEX
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From our camp site overlooking the air strip I can look out to sea. There,
about 1 mile out, I
can see three ships laying at anchor. Off to my right I
can
see dozens, if not a hundred, LCM's making their way toward the end of the
strip. Sure looks like what I
thought was a rumor yesterday, turns out to be fact today. We are moving to
another location, but no-one at my level knows where.
Barracks bags are painted with the owners' names and are stacked for
loading.
We are going to be moved to the strip to load on to the LCM's. I have only one
worry and that is what do I do with my parakeets? As long as
I
have the stick, they can fly free because they will always return to it.
The
native told me so, and he has been right. I'm not their owner, the stick
owns them. Perhaps like the Army owns all of us. I wonder when we'll both be
free. Pondering
this, I shall take them with me. Plenty of time to let them
go,
or give them away after I learn what is to be ahead.
The LCM's move up and alongside the ships and a gang plank is placed down to
allow us to board.
We are ordered below decks and are assigned bunks. In a
short
time, we'll be underway. I'll go up on deck then, as soon as we're
allowed.
I find a place to sit on a bulkhead located toward the aft end of the ship.
I feel somewhat like a celebrity as the guys in their curiosity gather
around
to see the birds fly over it, and return to the stick I carry. The big question
among all of us is, where are we going?
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About this time a sailor comes from below with a pot of garbage, sides up to
the rail and pours
the contents of the pot overboard. I call to him and ask,
"Hey
Buddy where are we going?" His response is to shrug his shoulders. If I at
least can know the direction we are heading, I might be able to figure it
out for myself.
"Which way are we heading?"
Without any hesitation he
turns
toward the bow of the ship and points. "That way."
My Irish starts to
rise,
but he seems so sincere I will give him another chance. "How far do
you
think it is to the land?" and I gesture to the island we can both see
dimly in the
distance. He answers, "Oh, that's a long long way."
That does it, and I hand the Parakeets stick to the trooper beside me and
jump up to settle
issues with that smart sailor. But he's had enough of the game,
and sees what is coming and makes a quick dash through the bulkhead and
out of my reach. He stays out of my way for the voyage.
The day is slow and I am thinking again of what to do with the birds. As time
passes I feel the birds must go, but how? Do
I throw their home into the
waves, and consign them to lose the only perch they have had in their lives?
A sailor comes on deck, and I tell him the story of the birds. He is
interested. I hand
him the perch and he takes it. The birds now own him.
Evening comes at last, and we are ordered below. There is talk that there is
a storm approaching.
Well, here's a new one, none of us has ever rode out a storm
at sea. Shortly, we feel the ship begin to roll, and I see men everywhere
pretend not to be sick. Soon they can't pretend any more. Each time
we roll, more men start the journey to the head. The
head, in this ship a line of toilets, soon become the focus of our universe.
They are all occupied, and there are lines. We're all sharing the desire
to get rid of our misery, whether it be sitting or kneeling. Some are doing both
at the same time, emptying their bowels and vomiting into the toilet
between their knees. Not busy enough they are all the time moaning cussing
and wishing they were dead. Not all
of us can get to the head. The sinks
and the deck get sprayed with our misery.
It's impossible for me to remain in this stench, I need to find some fresh
air. I come to a
ladder leading up to one of the hatches, climb it, and gingerly open the hatch
just a small amount. The air is the
sweetest I have ever
breathed, but my heart jumps to my throat as I see the condition of the weather.
In a brief glance, I see a wave that appears higher than the mast of
our ship. Death by foul air
suddenly seems better than death by turning turtle
in a heavy sea, so with heart pounding I close the hatch and return to
my bunk. Here I listen to the screw
cavitating as it breaks water, and the
ship lists from side to side like a drunk on a carnival ride.
The storm continues
and as it starts to wane, a deep sleep comes upon me.
Morning comes and I feel ready for whatever they can throw at me, so long as
they let me off this
ship. The storm is gone, and we almost have our stomachs
back. In time
we arrive at an island, and word is that its name is Leyte. The navy is
there to greet us and to get us ashore. The Navy has units they call cells,
which look to me like large floating barges which they moved alongside
us. We disembarked down a gang
plank and on to the barge, which is pushed
in towards shore. Another gangway is lowered and we go ashore without getting
our feet wet.
As we leave the ship each man carries a bunk, and we proceed to the beach.
Some of us open our
bunks, sit on it or lay down to await our next orders.
The Leyte Hilton (Photo by
the author).
My mind is exhausted and I do not recall putting up tents but I am soon in
one. It is a
pyramidal tent and there are five other men with me. We settle
in
and listen for what is to come next. I
hear somewhere that the brass
have
called for a plane to make a bomb run on the coral reef to get fish for
our
meal. I do not see the bomb run but
I enjoy the fish. Our time is spent
leisurely
enjoying the beach, swimming and just taking it easy.
One evening, once dark comes, we are watching a movie on the beach. The movie
is Lucille Ball in "Ball Of Fire."
A lone Zero makes a strafing run at
our position, knocking out the projector and ruining our screen.
No one is
hit, so the evening is deemed to be a good one, adding one more reason for
us to hate the Japs. Years later,
"I Love Lucy" will become my memory switch for this evening. I can
blink twice at her
and be on that Leyte beach.
We
look up to witness several dogfights
between
our planes and Zeros. I see a P-38 who is engaged in a fight with about
four Zeros, and he comes spinning toward the ground. My heart sinks for
him. This fate should not befall our pilot, and just as it seems that it shall,
the plane suddenly pulls out of its dive, levels out turns for home. We
must all feel the same, and a rousing shout of "Hooray!" goes up from
all of us who
are watching.
Another time we see four P-38s bring a Betty bomber down out of the clouds
just off the beach,
diving at her from the side and at the tail.
I have a movie
camera with me and I follow the Betty in my viewfinder, and film her as
she dives directly into the sea. Later,
the Army Censors shall send me a letter
telling me that "the film will be returned after cessation of hostilities."
But they never do.
Life settles down to a routine until we are informed we are to be prepared for
another mission. As with other missions those among us who feel the need for
God�s blessing gather to attend mass, after the rite is performed, it is time
to get ones killing tools together and make ready to board the LCI's. It is
rather odd for us as it appears we shall be loading
at night.
The
Catholic Mass, Leyte (Photo by the author).
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