Ch 29 - The Yanks and Tanks

CHAPTER 29

THE YANKS AND TANKS

We were ushered to waiting trucks by a sergeant, and guided up the steps into the open trucks where seats were arranged along each side. I gripped the seat tightly, I sometimes think I was fearful it was a dream, that all of this would fade away! Quickly the truck was loaded and we were away! We traveled only a very short distance before stopping near some long structures, the sides open except for a four foot high wall that ran the length of the building on each side, and the ends except for the doors which were just openings. Some of the personnel directed us inside the first building where we were instructed how to write a message for a telegram to our loved ones. Once finished with that, we were ushered to the next ‘building’ which I quickly realized was the source of the delectable odors that my sensitive “receivers” had been picking up for some time! A Major, standing in front of the tent/building announced to those of us in the vicinity that the 'diner' was at our disposal, and we could order almost anything we wished and it would be served! When my turn came, I could think of only bacon, eggs and toast!

How I had imagined such an event as this! Anything I wanted to eat! Bacon and eggs! When my number was called, I went to the counter for my food and a cook told me as he handed over my eggs.

“There is plenty more where these came from! Just ask, and ye shall receive!”

It is beyond any doubt that anything ever has, nor ever will, taste as incredibly good as that first plate containing those eggs and bacon! Even now, fifty years later, when I sit down to eggs and bacon, my mind often rolls back to that remarkable time! I will also admit I did return for another helping of bacon and eggs. The taste of this food was almost too incredible to describe! I was devoid of any space to hold the second plate, but I ate it anyway!

After completely devouring the second plate of bacon and eggs, I wandered out of the building with a satisfied feeling in my stomach and a satisfied smile on my face. I was immediately waylaid by an MP who directed me to yet another of the structures where several long tables, together with numerous chairs almost filled the area. I could see several POW’s sitting at various tables, each with an Army Officer. The officers were apparently asking the men questions, and writing on pads before them.

I waited perhaps twenty minutes until one of the officers waved me to a chair across the table from him. I sat down and saw he was a Major with rather a grim face, a man that seemed by his demeanor one wishing he was elsewhere. He asked my name, serial number, date of enlistment, etc. I rattled the info off and waited for his next question. He wanted to know where I was captured, the name of the prison camps I was interned in and where I was released. I gave him the names of the camps and sat back while he wrote. I realized that I did not like this man and I wished to get this over quickly, if possible. After several more questions, I asked him if we would be going home from here. On this he was evasive. I asked if I could put in a good word for a Japanese man that had been very kind to us in the Kawasaki Camp. He grunted, moved on to another subject. I told him about Kobyashi, and how he stole flour for us and aided us in other ways. I said if we were to remain in this area for a short time, I would like to help him and his family if possible.

“We are fully aware of what you men would like to do, get out there and kill some Japs, that is what you want to do!” he said sternly.

I told him I had little desire to kill anyone, that I would just like to help Kobyashi, if possible.

“It is not possible!” he grated, “You will be kept under tight control until you are out of here!”

The thought came to me that this transition was not as smooth as I thought it would be! I clammed up for the remainder of the ‘discussion’. Looking back, I think this incident was the beginning of the end for me in the military. I was very disturbed by this officer’s attitude. As I recall other “interviews”, it becomes obvious they, the interviewers, were so positive “they” knew exactly what was in our heads, our inputs at the time, extremely valuable information concerning the effects of prison camp existence were lost in the jumble of paperwork and bureaucracy.

This previously unattainable intelligence information relating to the mental, and physical effects on the POW’s was at their fingertips.

I turned and walked away from this man and left the building.

An MP waved me toward yet another of these temporary buildings where others like myself were sitting, obviously waiting for the next step in what we all hoped was the road home. Shortly, one of the soldiers came in and counted off twenty of us and told us to follow him. We were led to a tent nearby and instructed to go inside, remove our clothes and prepare for a delousing. It turned out to be rather unpleasant, but was over with quickly and we moved to an adjoining tent where we were issued some clothes, toilet articles, and cigarettes. I donned the suntan shirt and trousers, pulled on the white socks and tried the GI shoes for size. Everything fit fairly good. I put the other clothes into the barracks bag I was issued and followed the arrows to the outside.

A soldier told me to get into a nearby truck, which I found to be almost full of men. After two more men wandered from the tent and climbed up the ladder into the truck, the engine started and we were off once again to our next destination. The men around me flung rumors back and forth, that we would be boarding a hospital ship for home, boarding a plane for home, and numerous other stories relating to the dreams that had prevailed among us for so long.

The truck wound through streets lined with the rubble from the bombings, much of it blackened by the intense fires. I was appalled at the desolation of this huge city, practically leveled from the continual attacks of the B-29’s. No, I did not feel happy the Japanese had paid the price for the treatment they had bestowed upon us. I would feel happy to know those responsible for our misery, and the deaths of so many of the prisoners would be held accountable for their deeds! I could hardly wait to see Spence again, and some of my close friends from the Nichols Field Prison Camp.

The truck soon approached its destination. It was an airfield! They were planning to fly us home to the U.S.! The truck pulled to a stop on a large expanse of concrete before a large hanger! I was amazed that anything was still standing! We were instructed to sit on the grass next to the hanger while the aircraft was being readied. As my gaze swept across the huge airfield, I saw a large number of planes, but none I could see were bombers or fighters. All appeared to be cargo and passenger planes, some of them very large, and all bore the now familiar insignia, a big star, of the U.S. Airforce and the U.S. Navy. I could see no Japanese planes in evidence.

Our group of twenty men had grown to a hundred when a jeep drove up and an officer dismounted and walked over to us. He proceeded to explain that facilities did not exist for the military to keep us here, even overnight, and even if there were facilities, his superiors preferred to move all former prisoners of war out of here immediately! He said we would be boarding aircraft very soon and would be on our way. He told us to make ourselves comfortable, and that a truck bearing food and drink was on its way. With that he turned and climbed into the jeep and his driver whirled away. Not one word as to our destination, or how long before we would be home!

The food truck arrived just as another officer in a jeep drove up in front of us. He proceeded to count off a large number of us, myself included, and he then led us out across the wide concrete tarmac carrying our barracks bags on our shoulders. We walked along leisurely for nearly ten minutes until directly ahead I could see a large silvery four-engined plane. It had a tricycle landing gear, and we had to climb high, steps mounted on wheels to enter the airplane. Once inside, I walked forward and grabbed a seat on the right side just ahead of the wing, thinking I would see more if I was clear of the wing. Since the seat was a continuous aluminum affair, mounted to the side of the aircraft, my back was to the side wall of the plane I couldn’t see anything anyway! I was joined by another man who I recognized from the camp at Omori. He had also made the trip to Suwa of course, which explained his being here. He said his guess was they were going to fly us to Guam, and then on to the States. I told him I wondered just why they were being so close mouthed about where we were going. Why the big secret? After all, the war was over wasn’t it?"

The airplane was now about 90% full and the crew was bustling about preparing to depart. The cockpit crew already had started one engine on each side of the plane, and the fuselage door was slammed closed. We were certainly going somewhere! A few minutes later all four engines were revving, and the plane began to move. Apparently they had to taxi a long way to reach the runway because it seemed forever before the plane was lined up to take off. It is needless to say we ex-POW’s were ready!

The big aircraft was soon climbing rapidly upward and I think I fully expected it to head to the southeast. It was not heading southeast, it was heading more south than east and I began to really wonder, “where were we heading? Perhaps we would land in southern Japan, and pick up other men.

CHAPTER 30

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