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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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