“The Wake Island Militia”
(See G. J. W. Urwin, pp. 39-44, November/December 1997 Naval History)
Richard Willstatter
As a history buff, I really do look forward to reading Naval History. Now, I have to admit that I may be a bit sensitive about the topic of how well (badly!) the Japanese treated their American and British (and other) POWs. My brother-in-laws’ brother, an ensign in the U.S. Navy was captured on Corrigedor, spent the next 34 months in Cabanatuan Prison (dreadful), and sadly did not survive the trip to Moji, Japan, in late December, 1944 on the infamous Oryoka Maru.
Professor Urwin stated that “The Japanese, however, classified all the surviving civilians as prisoners of war and kept them confined until the cessation of hostilities.” That is absolutely incorrect! I refer you to an article written by Captain Earl Junghans, U.S. Navy (Retired), titled “Wake’s POWs” published in the February 1983 issue of Proceedings. That long article points out that Japanese Rear Admiral Shige- matsu Sakaibara (the commanding officer on Wake Island) on 7 October 1943, ordered all American personnel executed. That consisted of 98 civilian workers. The article points out that a head count several days later revealed only 97 bodies. A thorough search located the last American civilian and the admiral testified at his court martial that “he killed this survivor with his sword.” On 18 June 1947, Admiral Shigematsu was court martialed, found guilty, and sentenced to death by hanging. In fact, of the 1,603 Americans (1,150 civilians) captured on Wake, just over 700 were all that was left of the civilians to return home in September, 1945.
Lieutenant William L. Palmer, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
I read Dr. Urwin’s article with great interest, specially his discussion of about the Contractors Pacific Naval Air Bases (CPNAB), “a mammoth civilian combine.”
My father, William Edward Palmer was a construction worker during that same period as an employee of the Hawaiian Constructors, T. H., activity. Only, instead of going to Wake Island, his contingent was sent to Canton Island, in the Phoenix Island group. Canton is about 1,800 miles SW of Hawaii, and only about 800 miles from the Japanese-held Gilbert Islands.
Fortunately, he kept a diary and although entries are brief, they document a remarkable story that has some elements similar to Dr. Urwin’s article.
Dad’s group sailed from Honolulu with what he described as “belligerent (Army) troops” on the SS Mariposa, on 20 November 1941. They arrived at Canton Island on Monday, 24 November. They were housed in tents in conditions he described as “Just like Midway only worse.” Dad also worked on Midway Island early in 1940 as part of the construction crew sent there to construct the first airfield.
On 7 December 1941, they worked a little in the morning, then Dad and a couple of others got a boat with an outboard motor and sailed to the other side of the Island. There, they swam, ate the lunch they’d brought, and “saw where Admiral Day went on the reef.” When they returned, they learned of the attack on Pearl Harbor.
For the next couple of days, wild rumors were rampant and they “expected an attack” at any moment—particularly at night or at daybreak. They hid “all the gasoline” and a complete blackout was imposed.
On the morning of 10 December, they were told to be ready to evacuate that night, taking nothing with them but what they were wearing. Then on the 11th, all construction workers were told they would be “staying at any cost,” even though “Pan Air” personnel are “evacuating.” Friday morning at 1:30 a.m. everyone was called out of bed when a ship was sighted. The tug Mamo went aground as it scrambled to get inside the reef.
Then came yet another change in plans. Instead of staying at all costs, they were directed to prepare one of the flat barges for all of them to be evacuated on. Normally, these barges were only used to bring equipment and supplies in from ships anchored offshore. They had no engines and had to be towed.
They built a small “house” at the stern of the barge selected and installed gas stoves, and loaded fuel for the stoves, water, other supplies. The men were now told they could take with them all their “personal stuff’ after all.
One hundred and fifty-eight men boarded this open barge on the morning of Sunday, 14 December, just a week after Pearl Harbor. They hardly had room to turn around. Their destination—American Samoa—more than 800 miles further south—over open ocean, towed by the tug Mamo.
Things didn’t start off well. As they pulled away from the dock at 8:30 a.m., the barge rammed into the Holland dredge moored nearby. That put a midships hole in the barge which had to be repaired before proceeding further. My father was part of the construction crew which managed to repair the damage by 2:30 p.m., when they were again able to get underway.
With the barge having limited freeboard and under tow, in order to maintain reasonable trim the men were directed to stay within their assigned sleeping locations on deck except for “fantail emergencies” and when a few-at-a-time could line up for the two meals served each day—at 9:00 a.m. and 4:00 p.m. Since they would be traveling in potential submarine waters, no one was allowed to smoke or light a match after 6:00 p.m. With little else to do they laid down at 6:00 p.m. on the deck and tried to sleep. Quite a few got seasick, as the “barge (was) pretty rough riding.”
Tuesday morning, 16 December, their third day from Canton, they awakened to relatively calm seas. Speed was estimated to be about 7 knots. Nothing but smooth, gently undulating seas as far as one could see in any direction.
They arrived at American Samoa’s Tu- tuila Island at 5:30 a.m. on 18 December. They made it! A remarkable journey. All 158 men had been towed on that open barge over that vast stretch of Pacific Ocean from Canton Island to American Samoa and they all reached Pago Pago safely.
Unlike the contractors at Wake Island, none of my father’s construction group were ever fired upon nor were any captured by the Japanese. Most, including my dad, continued on from Tutuila by ship (the Hdeakaia), first to Fiji, then to French New Caledonia. Somewhere north of Noumea on New Caledonia, they constructed another airfield before proceeding to Australia then home to the United States.
“Secret at Bletchley Park”
(See Jerome M. O’Connor, pp. 34-38, November/December 1997 Naval History)
Commander Michael R. Adams, U.S. Coast Guard (Retired)
Apparently, Mr. O’Connor divides pre- World War II Americans into two groups: (1) those in favor of American engagement in the war whose cause justified even violating the Constitution, and (2) their “raving,” “hysterical,” “defeatist” opponents. The claim that Franklin Roosevelt’s unconstitutional conduct was only “impeachable ... if discovered,” implies that crime exists only if the criminal is caught. Furthermore, it is simplistic and unfair to characterize the America First Committee’s legitimately-held and legally-expressed beliefs as “hysteria.” Finally, although Charles Lindbergh may have had pro-German (and perhaps even anti-Semitic) inclinations, I know of no public statements by him which could be fairly described as “Nazi propaganda.”
Simple categorizations rarely fit either history or human beings. Charles Lindbergh, alleged “Nazi propagandist” and member of the “hysterical” America First Committee, flew numerous successful combat missions (in F-4Us and P-38s) during World War II. The “defeatist” Joseph Kennedy’s eldest son died while flying a Navy bomber during the war and a second son served honorably and bravely in combat in the Navy’s PT boats. Mr. O’Connor’s polemical pronouncements blithely ignore such “bedeviling complexities of history.”
“The Spirit of Saratoga”
(See R. F. Dunn, pp. 16-20 November/December 1997 Naval History)
Captain William C. Chapman, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Admiral Dunn’s eulogy for the Saratoga makes a disparaging remark about the 8- inch guns on the earlier carrier. Perhaps Admiral Dunn is too young to have read the fleet tactical publications in effect as late as 1940 that directed that the Sara and the Lex should, after launching aircraft, “join the battle line” for surface action. That doctrine did not long survive 7 December 1941. The latter Sara did have a slight surface action with a German non- combatant off the Virginia Capes in 1961, but the less said about that the better.
“The Flying Pirate”
(See N. Polmar, p. 54 November/December 1997 Naval History)
Mr. James Wise
I guess I’m old enough now to admit that I flew “historic aircraft” such as the PBY-2 Privateer that Norman Polmar writes about in the December issue.
I joined VP-24 as a young ensign back in the 1950s as it prepared to make its final deployment to Argentina, Newfoundland, with excursions to the Air Force Base at Thule, Greenland, and reaches further north. The plane was a fine aircraft to fly, very forgiving, an excellent all-weather bird that we flew through the worst kind of storms using rather primitive navigational aids. We always got through and took great comfort in the stability of the aircraft.
Upon our return from Argentina, a message was waiting for the squadron at our home base, Patuxent River, requesting volunteers to fly refurbished PB4Y-2s from San Diego to Vietnam. Most of the young pilots in the squadron were bachelors and with the offer of advanced per diem, a West Coast adventure and Hawaii enroute we jumped at the chance. No one gave much thought to Vietnam and what was going on there; it was the getting there that held our interest.
We found Tan Son Nhut with no problem but had to wait for barbed wire bails to be cleared from the runway, which made us a sitting target for the gunfire that soon reached us from the jungle below. While circling the airfield we noticed the wrecks of various types of aircraft around the field. Some were American- leased Bearcats that had either been shot down while in the landing pattern or had crashed because the French pilots failed to quickly correct for the torque roll that the Bearcat was famous for during its early moments of takeoff and flight.
We finally landed and parked along the flight line. Once out of the aircraft we found that we were alone; no one was on the field to greet us. A couple of us started searching through the line shacks for someone to accept the plane. We finally found two French chiefs playing cards in one of the buildings and they practically ignored us. We ended up waiting three hours for the U.S. Military Advisory Group to arrive to officially deliver the aircraft.
It was obvious to us all that the French wanted out of the country. The fall of Dienbienphu which happened as we departed the war-tom country resolved that situation for the French.
We returned to Pax River to begin transition into P2V Neptunes. Splendid aircraft but many of us held a special place in our hearts for the lumbering Privateers. We had gone through a lot together.
Commander Robert E. Bublitz, U.S. Navy (Retired)
I would like to add the following footnotes to Norman Polmar’s fine article:
►Although the official determination is that none of the crew of the PB4Y-2 shot down off the coast of Latvia in 1950 survived, while doing research at the Naval Intelligence Postgraduate School in 1955- 56, I was able to track the presence and movement of nine (later eight) men said to be American Navy survivors of a shoot- down through several different camps of the Gulag. The series of reports dating from 1950-53 by a number of different observers were quite consistent and convincing, although the reliability of the sources could not be determined.
►Regarding Privateers in World War II combat, I have heard that they were used on antisubmarine warfare patrols in the Bay of Biscay and earned an awesome reputation among German fighter pilots because of the overlapping fields of fire of their power turrets.
►During the Korean War, a World War Il-experienced gunner on a VP-28 Privateer allegedly hit one of a pair of Chinese MiG-15s which attacked off Shanghai. The MiG departed trailing heavy smoke and the gunner was credited with a “probable.”
►The black painted PB4Y-2s transferred to the Chinese Nationalists were often seen supplying the offshore islands of China and reportedly also supplied the Chinese Nationalist troops who had retreated from Yunnan Province into the Golden Triangle area of Burma, Thailand, and Laos.
The credibility of the foregoing reports ranges from the horse’s mouth aft.
“Farewell to the Troopship”
(See W. Frank, pp. 41-45, January/February 1997; J. S. Stamford, E. A. Maier, T. G. Martin, pp. 6-8, March/April 1997; C. Ganong, pp. 9-10, May/June 1997; F. X. Johnston, July/August 1997; C. Ganong, pp. 9-10, November/December 1997 Naval History)
Rear Admiral Harley D. Nygren, National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency (Retired)
Carl Ganong’s letter in the December 1997 issue of Naval History may be technically correct, but is misleading. His last paragraph states that: “Any vessel stricken from the Naval Register is no longer owned by the government.”
Various government agencies have a long history of using excess, surplus, or cast-off Navy vessels, some of them for periods that far exceed their naval service. Among these are the Coast Guard, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Agency (NOAA), Environmental Protection Agency, and Maritime Administration. The vessel replaced when the T-AGOS- 10 was transferred to the Merchant Marine Academy was the Kings Pointer, former Undaunted, and former ATA. This vessel served the Navy, the Bureau of Commercial Fisheries, National Science Foundation and NOAA, and surely was almost 50 years old when replaced.
While Congress dithers about replacing the venerable NOAA fleet of sturdily constructed vessels rounding out careers of 30-plus years, the Navy disposes of vessels with half their longevity, few of which could economically be used by NOAA. The T-AGOS ships might be an exception, and several are serving with NOAA, although they are constrained from being properly manned and equipped because of Congressional short-sightedness.