3d squad, 1st Platoon, "D" Co. on Negros, Philippine Islands in May 1945.

From left: Roberts, Fishman, St. Germain, Hall and unknown

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 September 1945 saw 2d Battalion guarding 800 plus prisoners in the compound of the Lumber Mill at Fabrica, Negros Island.   The veterans amongst us hadn't slept under a proper roof in over two years.

All the houses behind  Trooper John Reynolds, age 22,  were built of solid mahogany.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surrender

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Japanese who surrendered vastly outnumbered us. Our Intelligence estimates of the numbers of Japanese effectives was vastly inaccurate.. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were approximately 800 prisoners at Fabrica alone, and generally they were in good physical condition.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Japanese POW's provided their own entertainment within the confines of the Fabrica Lumber Mill.  We had not seen Sumo before.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Liberation Ceremony" by Paul Sample (Army Art Collection)

Tokaido road was, to say the least, a long, grinding ordeal for the 503rd.  Almost daily patrols to the front or sides of the road - and usually some enemy contact made and people killed or wounded in the firefights.  We would dig into our positions each night, and anything that moved was shot at or grenaded - the assumption being that it was the enemy and not our troops.  Our biggest assist at night came from our own mortar platoon.  If ammo was available, and it was not raining too hard, we could depend on our 60mm mortar crew to fire a flare to our front on demand and give us an opportunity to look over the terrain and possibly catch Japs in the act of creeping up on us.  The mortars had a distinct sound, and we could usually tell when it was a flare on the way and not high explosive - which gave us an opportunity to get set to observe the area to our immediate front without being seen by the Japs, and at the same time, catch them in  the open.

As I recall, we had little or no artillery support at this time, but on occasion we would get an air strike on positions just to our front before we assaulted them.  It was quite a thrill when Corsairs - which were actually fighter planes belonging to the Marines, would come tearing up from behind our lines, release their bombs far behind us and we would dive for cover as the bombs just cleared our hill and landed in the Jap positions ahead of us. Some astute trooper finally made the comment that "you can't see the tail fins on the bomb coming in, dive for cover.  If you can see the fins, the bomb won't land in your lap, so relax."  He may have been right, but I still never relaxed, and would take cover at the sight of every bomb released just over our position.

22 May. 

During an assault on a heavily defended hill, one of our men was hit and suffered a bad head wound.(Rouse).  He was one of the replacements who had arrived only a few days earlier.  As a scout, I was on the far left flank of our squad - almost alone in the jungle, or so it seemed.  We were ordered to fall back, recover our wounded and pull back to our previous position.  As I retreated - the last person in the platoon to pull back, I could distinctly hear the sound of female laughter from the hill top - derisive and taunting laughter.  I can only presume that it came from Filipino women who had joined the Japanese during their occupation of the Island, and probably married some of them.  Upon the later surrender of the enemy forces at wars end, no Filipino women were found with them. (I did hear later that quite a few women were taken into custody at wars end).

24 May.

 Moved out as first scout on patrol with 1st squad, 3rd platoon, under Lt. Watkins.  About 150 yards out, I began to notice many fresh tracks in the muddy trail... including some "split-toe" tracks that could only have been made by a sort of tennis shoe that the Japanese snipers wore.  I also noted our communications wire had been neatly cut in numerous places.  I also noted that the Jungle was strangely silent.  I halted the patrol and notified the officer in charge of my findings and suspicions.  Lt. Watkins immediately decided to recall the patrol and return to camp for reinforcements before venturing out again.  Just as we reached our company perimeter, we met four men from Regimental Headquarters, who were heading up the same trail we had just returned from.  I knew one of the men as I had came overseas with him.(Donovan)  I told him that the area he was heading into was crawling with Japs, and that we had just returned from it for reinforcements and would be heading out again in a short while,  and that he was in danger of being ambushed  going out with only four men.  He said that he had been ordered to go out to check on the effect of artillery fire in the area and had to go ahead - even though I told him we would be returning with a larger patrol in a short time.  At exactly the same spot on the trail where we had turned back, his group was ambushed, and one man was killed.  My platoon returned to rescue the two men who were pinned down by enemy fire and retrieve the body of the man killed.  I have often thought of this incident, and wondered what prompted me to halt the patrol and turn back at the same spot where these men were ambushed only a few minutes later.  I also am forever grateful to Lt. Watkins for calling off the patrol at my report and returning to our perimeter for reinforcements.

 

 

 

 

A short while following this incident we were pulled back from our positions in the mountains and  were replaced by Filipino soldiers.  We set up camp at the base of the mountain and cleaned ourselves, our equipment and discussed all the things that had happened to us.  At about this time some of us were offered a short leave to go into the capitol city of the island.  Several of us went and, among other things, visited the U.S. Army hospital there and the military cemetery where several of our buddies were buried.  I recall the hospital visit quite clearly, primarily because one of the men we saw there was the new man who had suffered the bad head wound I mentioned.  We were surprised that he was still there, but found that he was in no shape to transport at the time, but would be shipped back to the United States for treatment if he survived.  We were also shocked to see that his wound was crawling with maggots, but were assured that this was a new treatment for cleansing wounds, and was deliberate.  We found later that this was true, and that the procedure was being used for the first time at the hospital on our Island.

I should add that it wasn't all combat - there were long periods of endless patrols, with no contacts, long periods of sitting in our positions, waiting for orders to move out, and moments of sheer terror when contact with the enemy was made and fighting erupted. I recall one instance when we were high in the mountains of Negros, the weather was continually damp, foggy and rain nearly every day.  Endless patrols; setting up ambushes along watering points or mountain springs, and armed patrols to obtain water, guarding pack trains of Filipino porters who carried supplies and ammunition on their backs from the roads at the foot of the mountains to our positions in the hills.

I  awakened one morning after spending the night in my foxhole, alternating between guard duty in case of a night attack and fitful sleeping; when I climbed out of my foxhole, I felt something in my eye.  At about the same time, one of my companions said, "My God, Stribling, there is something hanging out of your eye".  Inspection revealed that a huge leech had attached himself to me during the night.  My friend and squad leader Joe Dablock lighted a cigarette and touched the burning end to the leech to make it release its grip and removed it.  There was no damage, but I later often wondered how I could sleep while he attached himself to me.  It was probably about four inches long, but seemed huge.  Dablock referred to himself as my eye doctor thereafter.

It was about this time and place when an incident occurred that has stuck in my mind and emerged in my thoughts on occasion.  My squad was called on to patrol to the front of our company area to see if the enemy had pulled back.  As first scout, I led the patrol forward toward our company outpost, which was guarding  the trail leading to our company area.  Just as I approached the outpost, I heard a shout and a burst of gunfire.  We hit the ground, and then moved on to go through the outpost and on up the trail.  At the outpost, we discovered that a Japanese soldier, apparently a non-commissioned officer of some rank, had just charged the outpost, shouting and brandishing a saber.  He apparently had either went berserk, or had thought his troops were charging with him.  As it happened, he was all-alone, and was cut down by our outpost fire.  My patrol was pulled back, since we had found out that the enemy was still positioned just ahead of us.  It occurred to me that if I had been five minutes earlier, I would have led our patrol through our outpost, and probably would have ran head-on into the charging Japanese.

The next morning, after a mortar barrage on the hill ahead of us, we moved out to take the hill.  As I recall, we were spread out in a skirmish line, and had gotten only a short way from our own lines when the shooting began.  We took cover and would move up a few feet, hit the ground, and then move up again,  I was trying to go from tree to tree for cover.  I noticed a small depression with some logs piled in front of it just about 20 feet from my position, so I made a run for it and dove in.  Just as I reared up to look on up the hill, the log beside me literally exploded  as a round hit it inches from my head.  A Japanese obviously had the position in his sights, so I piled out and dove behind a tree downhill from the position.  It then became apparent that I had dived into a recently vacated Japanese position and that the gunner who had just taken a shot at me probably had just vacated the position himself.   At any rate, we pulled back and it was decided to leave the hilltop to the enemy for another try later.  I recall not being too unhappy with the decision.  Two close calls in such a short time were enough for me.

It was here too, that we would have to send armed patrols out to fill our canteens for drinking water, and springs and small water holes were great spots for an ambush.  I recall one such patrol, although not in search of water, I led our patrol as first scout, down a slippery, muddy trail.  At about the same time I smelled smoke, came upon a small clearing alongside the trail and observed a fire with a pot of something cooking on it.  The Japs had apparently  been aware of our approach and decided to pull our - rather than fight us at the time - for which I am thankful.  At about this time, we lost radio contact with the Company, so the platoon leader decided to call the patrol back.  I can only assume someone wrecked the fire and dumped the Japs dinner on the ground - I was only interested in getting out of there at the time myself. 

The troopers in my unit also had a habit, which I also shared, of searching for souvenirs in abandoned Japanese positions we had taken.  In retrospect, I realize it was not too smart to do so, but on several occasions I crawled into an abandoned revetment or cave, armed with only a forty-five pistol, to search for anything of interest left behind by the enemy.

The war actually ended for me, for all practical purposes, sometime in August of 1945, when I became ill with hepatitis and was sent to a U. S. Army General hospital on the Island of Leyte for treatment. I came down with a case of malaria at the same time and spent the next month or more recovering.  I was in the hospital when word of the dropping of the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the report of surrender came to us. By this time, I had been transferred to a convalescent hospital, and was rather enjoying life. USO entertainers came to the base quite often and I recall the visit of Kay Kyser and his band to put on a show for us.  When rumors of impending surrender and wars end became rampant though, I decided that I was going to go back to my unit and go home with them, so I skipped out of the hospital and grabbed a plane going to Negros and returned to my unit.  Needless to say, however, I was a little premature. 

 Our  Japanese had not surrendered as yet, and we were still in the hills trying to convince them to give up.  After dropping leaflets, and finally radios to the Japanese in the hills opposing us, they were finally convinced that the time to surrender had come, and they gave up.  We took several thousand Japanese prisoners. Actually, they outnumbered our troops, and we were very surprised because we thought we were only fighting a few hundred so-called stragglers.

After guarding the Japanese prisoners for a period of several weeks, they were loaded on boats for return to Japan, and we were moved to another city on the other side of the Island, and set up camp in tents in a large coconut grove.  I was by now a squad leader, and we were housed in large squad tents complete with cots, mosquito bars, and all the comforts of home, including regular meals at the company mess tent.  I recall that the town was the home of a College, which was again in operation, and that our company was invited to it for a dance one evening.  We dressed in our best clean khaki uniforms, and proceeded in trucks to the College.  The dance was chaperoned by the College, the girls were all college students, and the edge of the dance hall was lined with chairs, and occupied by apparently the mothers of all the girls who were there to keep an eye on things.  There was an excellent band, which played songs just like in the United States.  I was dancing with a well dressed and pretty College girl to Hoagie Carmichaels "Stardust" when it hit me that this was all real, not a dream, and that the war was really over and that I had made it through in one piece and alive.

I should add another incident that has remained with me - even though it was in no way related to combat.  Sometime in May, we were pulled back from the front lines and assigned to guard a large ammunition supply dump near the capitol city of Bacolod.  It was more or less a short period of rest and relaxation for us since there was no enemy in the area - to our knowledge.  We were there for approximately two weeks, enjoyed swimming in a river adjacent to our campsite, visiting with the local Filipino people who lived nearby, and going into town - which had been relatively untouched by the war.  It was while we were here that some officer contacted me from our regimental headquarters.  He asked if I would be interested in making a career of the Army if they would send me back to the United States to attend West Point.  I was floored by the offer, but at the time, was assigned duty as a first scout - a position that had the highest casualty rate in our outfit.  I knew that it would only be a matter of time until my luck would run out and I would get hurt - or worse.  With that in mind, I assured the man that I was definitely interested.  The truth is, I would have taken off swimming to get back to the states and out of combat at the time.  I did hear that there were only two men in the regiment to whom the offer was made.  As it happened, I heard no more of it and can only assume that due to the winding down of the war in Europe, there was no great need for more West Point officers  four years down the road - which was what it would take to attend and graduate from West Point.

I can also assume that the offer may have had something to do with the fact that I had been a participant in the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP), and had attended college at the University of Kansas  before it was disbanded.  I also had an exceedingly high score on my AGCT (Army General Classification Test) when I entered active duty.  This primarily due to the fact that I had just completed six months of what amounted to "cramming" at Kansas U.  My score, as I recall, was 139.  The average score was probably in the 70 to 80 ranges.  I do know that it required a score of 110 to be admitted to OCS (Officer Candidate School).  Oh well, such was not to be, but I have often wondered - what if? I should mention that the ASTP was the pet of Secretary of War Henry Stimson.  The idea was to take 150,000 of the brightest draftees and offer to put them through College if they opted for the Army.  Those given the offer were young men whose test scores indicated that they would probably get cushy rear-echelon jobs with rapid promotion or be selected for OCS (Officer Candidate School).  Those of us who accepted had to forgo those opportunities, but were to be sent to College as privates, at $50.00 per month, but would be provided with room, board, tuition, and would take regular classes, majoring in areas where the Army anticipated needing specialists later on in the war, in such areas as mathematics, engineering , or foreign languages.  Most ASTPers got started in the fall semester of l943.  By summer of 1944, most were gone.  In anticipation of manpower needs after the battle for Europe began, the program was cut from 150,000 to 30,000; also some 71,000 aviation cadets were released to the ground forces.  So suddenly the Army had 190,000 of the best and brightest - enough for ten divisions.  Ready to go into rifle companies as replacements.  There was some bitterness and much bitching, then off to a brief basic training course.  So much for the ASTP; the Army promised them a free education then changed its mind and put them in the front lines.

Shortly after we had set up camp  at Dumaguete, the word came down that the unit was to be disbanded; high point men, (who had been overseas the longest and/or in the army the longest), would be sent home with the unit colors; low point  men (such as I) would be transferred to the 11th Airborne Division and be sent to Japan for occupation duty.  A short time later, I found myself on a voyage to Japan on a Navy LST (Landing Ship, Tank).  We were crowded into the hold of the ship that normally held tanks, and folding cots covered the entire floor space.  Our timing was perfect for the trip and as we sailed across the China Sea enroute to Japan, one of the worst typhoons in years hit us.  The ship rode it out, but we had some tense moments as the ship would leave the water cresting one wave, and the propeller would be beating in the air as we dove into the next wave.  Our ship was a flat-bottomed craft, and one of the bow doors, which were made to be dropped down to unload tanks on a beach, was sprung by the storm, and navy crewmen hurriedly welded it shut and sealed the leaking sea water out by stuffing thin cotton mattresses into the cracks. 

We made it to Japan, and I was assigned to Company D , 511th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 11th Airborne Division.  I was shipped immediately to a seaport town in northern Honshu Island - the largest Island of the Japanese homeland.  We were the first American troops the locals had ever seen, and our reception was different, to say the least.  The streets would suddenly be deserted as one of our patrols entered.  This soon changed when they realized we were not bloodthirsty savages, out to kill, rape and plunder.

Occupation duty was really not bad duty at all, and when those of us who had so recently been shot at by these people, realized that they were human after all, it was really good duty.  Shortly after our arrival, our cooks accidentally set the hotel we were staying in afire with the charcoal stove they were cooking on, and we were pulled from the town and returned to the regiment and regular army life began for us.  Drill, guard duty, and the regular routine were boring to say the least.  My feeling at that time - and to this day, was that the bombing ended the war without the necessity of invading the home islands of Japan - which would have resulted in untold casualties to our troops.  Rumor had it that in the event of an invasion, my regiment was scheduled to be dropped on Formosa as a prelude to the actual invasion, and we would have undoubtedly suffered heavy casualties.

While my company was stationed at the Japanese city of Morioka, in northern Honshu province, we had Japanese interpreters working for us to assist in our contact with the Japanese.  One of ours was a Japanese-American woman who had came to Japan just prior to the war with her Japanese husband, and was stuck there when the war began.  Her husband died during the war, and she was left with two children in a land that was totally strange to her.  It was strange to us because her English was perfect - actually better than her Japanese.  One of the other interpreters was a former merchant mariner (Japanese merchant marine), who had visited the United States in his travels and who spoke fair English.  Among my souvenirs, I had a Japanese battle flag that I had picked up in the Philippines.  I decided to take it to  him and have him read the Japanese writing on it.  You may not be aware of it, but Flags were quite popular with the Japanese soldiers, and they would be inscribed with all sorts of Japanese writing - autographs, addresses, good luck wishes, etc:  None of which I had the faintest idea of the meaning.  At any rate I took the flag to our company office, and requested one of our interpreters, Tanaka by name, to tell me what was written on it.  As soon as I gave it to him, he and the other interpreter broke into a barrage of excited Japanese conversation - completely ignoring me, or so it seemed.  Finally, Tanaka's companion asked "Is the soldier from whom you seized this battle flag dead"?  At this time our first sergeant (Louie Calhoun)- with whom I had served in the 503rd, stated most emphatically, "If Stribling has his battle flag, you can bet your A-- he is dead."  After a long hesitation, and more Japanese between the two, Tanaka said to me, in a very low voice, "This Japanese soldiers name was also Tanaka, the same as mine."  I recall being a bit flustered, and telling him that I really didn't know if the soldier was dead or not; and that I may have found the flag in an abandoned backpack.  At any rate, I wound up giving the flag to Tanaka, who appeared to be extremely grateful, and assured me he would see that the flag was returned to the soldier�s family if at all possible.  I don't recall that I ever found out what all was inscribed on the flag, or if it was actually a relative of our interpreter.  I think, however, that Tanaka is a very common name in Japan - much like Jones in the United States.

The short time I spent with the 11th Airborne in Japan was, for the most part, very enjoyable duty, and I made several friends there.  However, the people I remember best - even after over half a century has elapsed - are the young troopers I joined on Mindoro.  These are the ones with whom I shared the foxholes and the firefights; with whom I "Charged the blazing hill"; saw my friends get wounded and killed, and, fighting beside them, I grew up overnight.

 

Charles R. Stribling

 

 

 

 

         

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