Nimitz at Guam: How He Relaxed from War

Much has been written about Fleet Admiral Chester W. Nimitz the warrior, but little about the time he spent away from the demands of command during the Pacific war. He especially enjoyed exercise and hiking, but the times he spent relaxing were sometimes as taxing as fighting the war.

While Nimitz was still in Pearl Harbor commanding the war as Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet, and Commander of the Pacific Ocean Areas, he was beset weekly by a steady stream of VIPs, military and political leaders, and visitors. Many dinners at his quarters at 37 Makalapa or at the homes of business leaders in Hawaii were drawn out social affairs sandwiched between the demands of war that too often stretched into the early morning hours. 

Visitors included Secretary of the Navy William Franklin (“Frank”) Knox, Under Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal, former Ambassador to Japan and then Under Secretary of State Joseph Grew, President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Office of Strategic Services director William J. (“Wild Bill”) Donovan, congressmen, senators, and the like. 

Dinners were followed by poker, dancing to songs played on a victrola record player, or movies in a unique outdoor theater only steps from Nimitz’s quarters. Nimitz’s favorite music was Brahms’ Symphony No. 3, which he played for the leaders of the first contingent of Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Services (WAVES), then–Lieutenant Winifred R. Quick and Lieutenant Commander Eleanor G. Rigby. Nimitz resisted women in the war zone, which Hawaii was, but was forced to accept the WAVES when Congress allowed them to serve in noncombat roles overseas. 

By December 1944, Nimitz had been plagued by so many congressional delegations, military leaders, and dignitaries that he wrote his wife Catherine that “if they are as weary as I am they will sleep hard tonight.”¹ Later, he expressed relief that “I have finally enjoyed a reduction in numbers of visitors,” giving him a “three-day respite” before the next deluge. Until the end of December he lamented, “I will be visited to death.” He sardonically concluded, “The Japs are not the worst of my troubles.”²

Nimitz’s most relaxing times during the war were the weekends at the magical beach house of this author’s grandparents, Una and Sandy Walker, on the north shore of Oahu called Muliwai. Nimitz welcomed 1945 there, awakening to an iridescent sunrise emerging from the Pacific Ocean. 

Guam

The new year brought hope for Nimitz. That month, his command headquarters would conduct a move he had been planning since August from Pearl Harbor to Guam. The move would bring him closer to the war, but it “was also farther from Washington” and would perhaps “discourage at least some of the VIP visitors who arrived expecting Nimitz to house, feed, and entertain them.”³ He might have thought the island sanctuary 4,000 miles further west would provide some insulation from social demands he experienced in Hawaii, but it was not to be. While Nimitz found plenty of his favorite extracurricular activities to occupy his non-war time, boundless streams of dignitaries followed him across the vast Pacific to Guam.

The “Pink Lady,” Nimitz’s flag plane, “left the ground at 8:30 p.m.” on 26 January 1945, stopping on Wake Island for “breakfast with the atoll commander.”⁴ His command log, called the Graybook for the color of its cover, reported that “CinCPac and CinCPOA arrived in Guam on 27 January 1945.”⁵ 

His new headquarters and quarters had been hastily built “on a high plateau” soon to be forever called “Nimitz Hill.”⁶ Nimitz’s aide, Lieutenant Commander Hal Lamar, described their quarters as a “beautiful white clapboard cottage with four bedrooms and four baths, opening onto a square court with grass and flowers in the middle. We had a large living room-dining room and a long, screened porch right on the edge of a cliff overlooking the harbor.”⁷ To Catherine, Nimitz extolled that the “view—both from the H.Q. administrative [buildings]—and from the Quarters—is superb. We are almost 850 feet above sea level and the air is cool and pleasant.”⁸ 

Outside, Nimitz “built a horseshoe court, which he was going to try that afternoon—if I can find an opponent.”⁹ In a separate letter, Lamar admitted to being that opponent. “This afternoon we didn’t take the usual two-hour hike and instead I was the Admiral’s partner at horseshoes in the first game played on his new court. Of course, he beat me badly and produced a number of ringers just to make me feel badly.”¹⁰

Nimitz constructed a new shooting range mirroring the one at Makalapa after his fleet surgeon “recommended target practice for relaxation, because in shooting a pistol one can think of nothing else but pulling the trigger.”¹¹ On Guam, Nimitz enlisted anyone at hand to join him at target practice, including his intelligence chief, Captain Edwin T. Layton, with whom he practiced daily.¹² By the time of the surrender, Lamar estimated “We must have fired at least half a million shots!”¹³

In Pearl Harbor, Nimitz’s working uniform was tropical khaki long (meaning long trousers). But in less formal Guam, he shifted to tropical khaki short (shorts with knee socks). He wrote the Walkers that he and his command staff “assemble for old fashioneds at 6:30 p.m. on our lanai—with its wonderful view over the western Pacific” and thanked them for their “cocktail napkins and coasters [and] matches.”¹⁴

The devastation the war wrought on Guam was evident everywhere. Nearly “all of the coconut trees” and forests were ruined “during the heavy pre-invasion bombardment. Admiral Nimitz was very anxious to have the island reforested . . .”¹⁵ Nimitz asked the Walkers to send “any spare seeds of flowering trees, monkey pod trees, lichee nut seeds etc. that you may have.”¹⁶ 

The Walkers gathered seeds and seedlings of many varieties of trees, ferns, flowers, gingers, and orchids which for months were loaded on the weekly flag plane from Pearl Harbor. As the flora arrived, Nimitz planted them all over Guam. Nimitz wrote the Walkers that in “later years when you two visit Guam and see all of the fruit and flowering trees and nice plants, you can take great satisfaction in your share in this program.”¹⁷ 

The two-hour hike to the top of 1,000-foot Mount Tenjo became one of Nimitz’s favorite avocations. On such excursions, Nimitz filled his pockets with the Walkers’ monkeypod, algarroba, and other flowering tree seeds which he “carefully planted at intervals along the roadside as we walked up to Mount Tenjo. Johnnie Appleseeds we were, but happy to think that we might improve the locality for some future residents.”¹⁸ 

Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal had warned Lamar to “expect a barrage of VIPs for the next few months.” Lamar soon wrote that “barrage was not the word for it! We had VIPs on every day of the week, two at a time, and sometimes their arrival and departures overlapped.”¹⁹ 

March, however, brought welcome guests. Returning from a trip to Washington D.C., Nimitz convinced Sandy Walker to join him aboard his flag plane for a week on Guam. Included was Honolulu businessman Walter Dillingham, whose achievements included dredging the Ala Wai Canal in the 1920s and filling the swamps of Waikiki, which made its development into a tourist destination possible. 

An Air Force general had given Nimitz a cabin cruiser that he christened “Catherine—for my sweetheart.”²⁰ Nimitz took his guests on daily fishing trips off the coast of Guam. An added guest was a famous playwright and then–Director of Overseas War Information, Robert E. Sherwood. There is no record whether Sandy caught anything, but Nimitz landed “a 5-pound barracuda.” 

In the evenings, Sandy and Dillingham played cribbage against Sherwood and General Holland “Howling Mad” Smith. At the time, Smith was commanding Task Force 56 in the Battle for Iwo Jima. He and Sherwood lost badly at bridge. Nimitz wrote that Sandy and Dillingham “had great difficulty in collecting many cribbage winnings” from “Smith and his partner,” for the “General is indeed a tough egg, either as a cribbage opponent or as a battle opponent, as the Japs well know.”²¹ 

The Battle for Iwo Jima ended on 16 March. Sandy was still being hosted by Nimitz when he gave his most famous message: “Among the Americans who served on Iwo Island uncommon valor was a common virtue.”²² 

Continued Visitors

Guests continued to descend after Sandy’s departure. In April, Lamar lamented they suffered “a siege with three French correspondents—only one of [whom] could speak English,” Captain Stuart S. Murray (on his way to assume command of the USS Missouri [BB-63]), Commodore Bernard “Count” Austin (Nimitz’s assistant chief of staff), Commandant of the Marine Corps General Alexander Vandegrift, representatives of the American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations, . . . and a newspaper publisher from Oregon as house guests. There is never a lack of visitors on this island!”²³ They were overrun with so many visitors they “hardly have time to change the sheets on the beds before the new people arrive.”²⁴

A week later, the “List of visitors for the next three days . . . only total 16 officers most of them of rather senior rank—the kind you have to be particularly careful with. The poor steward and I have our troubles . . .” finding enough food and drink for the guests.²⁵ 

One guest Nimitz at first welcomed but later regretted was Under Secretary of State Joseph Grew, to whom he loaned a “pair of fancy colored swim trunks.” They were a gift from the Walkers which Grew “walked away with.” The pragmatic Nimitz sighed to Catherine, “Thus is life.”²⁶

Though the endless chain of dignitaries were tiresome, Nimitz acknowledged to Catherine that he did not mind them since they helped “‘sell the Navy’ to other VIPs.”²⁷ If the evening went on too late, however, Nimitz conveniently excused himself to the war room. 

Dinner Jokes

Nimitz was famous for entertaining dinner guests with jokes. A favorite was a fat hypochondriac needing an appendectomy, but because of his “age and disposition” had a hard time finding a surgeon willing to do it. After the operation, the patient asked the surgeon how it went. “You’re doing fine,” replied the surgeon.

“But doctor,” the patient asked while touching his neck, “there’s something I don’t understand. I have a terrible sore throat, which I did not have when I entered the hospital. What causes that?”

“Well,” replied the doctor, “I’ll tell you. In view of the circumstances, your case was a very special one[,] and a big group of my colleagues came to watch the operation. When it was over they gave me such a round of applause that I removed your tonsils as an encore.”²⁸ 

Sometimes, however, a guest went too far with a joke—as happened when Catholic Archbishop Francis J. Spellman visited Guam. The tropical climate was so hot and humid that Spellman’s purple cape bled, badly staining his white shirt. “Your Eminence,” said Lamar, “You can’t wear this sort of uniform on Guam. Let us get you some khakis.”²⁹ Lamar helped the Archbishop out of his vestments and into khakis, which was how he appeared for dinner.

Among the guests was Andrew Higgins whose boat-building empire constructed patrol torpedo boats and landing craft made famous as “Higgins Boats” that were instrumental in all allied landings during the war. Higgins was rough-hewn, outspoken, and a heavy drinker. With Spellman disguised in khakis, Higgins boisterously told “one story after another, and each story getting a little more ribald.” The Archbishop began to frown and squirm in his seat.³⁰ 

Higgins finally told “one of those stories which are not suited” for the ears of clergy, causing “quite a few tense moments” for Nimitz, whose red face reflected chagrin. Spellman, however, graciously brought the evening to an end: “Admiral, I should like to go and say my prayers, both for myself and,” slowly fixing his eyes on Higgins, “for you gentlemen.”³¹

That is not to say Spellman lacked a sense of humor. The day after he left, Nimitz “told one delightfully humorous story after another and had the diners in a roar.” A guest commented on his “fund of funny stories, an unusually large repertoire even for Nimitz. ‘Oh,’ said Nimitz, ‘these aren’t mine. I told mine last night to Archbishop Spellman, and these are the ones he told me.’”³²

A Dog Named Mak

At Pearl Harbor, Nimitz acquired a Schnauzer nicknamed “Mak,” short for Makalapa. The dog was thoroughly disagreeable to anyone except Nimitz and Lamar. They took Mak to Guam where he accompanied them on their daily walks. 

On 2 May 1945, they took Mak to the beach where he pranced around until some guns were fired, whereupon “Mak took off for the mountains at 60 knots and hasn’t come home yet.” 

Following letters mourned the loss of their precious Schnauzer. On 21 May, Nimitz wrote that “Mak is still A.W.O.L. but I am sure he is alive and well, because there is plenty of water on the island and he has been sighted at various camps where he goes for food. He is too wild to let anyone come near him.”

Two months later, on 27 July, Lamar reported the “most exciting news of the week . . . the return of ‘Mak.’ A Marine found him while on patrol in one of the native villages . . . He is covered with battle scars and sores,” and being treated at the “marine dog hospital.” 

The Weight of Command

Commanding the Pacific war was stressful for Nimitz. His outward cool demeanor hid tensions he felt inside. Nimitz sadly admitted to Lamar he had to send “people to their deaths.”³³ Some orders cost thousands which brought “awful letters” from grieving parents, whose sons had died on some atoll. “You killed my son on Tarawa,” one angry parent wrote.³⁴

A letter to Catherine regretted “receiving two or three letters a day signed, ‘a Marine Mother,’ and calling me all sorts of names. I am just as distressed as can be over the casualties, but don’t see how I could have reduced them.”³⁵ 

Those war stresses, exacerbated by recurrent malaria, manifested themselves in weight loss, chronic diarrhea, and insomnia. In June, Nimitz stopped in Honolulu on his return from his last war meeting with Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Ernest King. The Walkers were shocked by his deteriorating health as they confided in a confidential letter to Fleet Surgeon Radm Thomas C. (“Doc”) Anderson:

Your Chief had dinner with us last night, and Sandy and I were shocked at his physical condition. He told us on his way through the other way, that he had this ailment, had had it for two weeks, and we had expected he would get medical treatment on the Coast and be cured by his return. In place of that, it had apparently grown worse . . . 

Fortunately, a few days later Lamar wrote that the admiral’s stomach ailment had improved, and he was “feeling much better.” 

When Japanese Emperor Hirohito radioed his capitulation in August, all the stresses ended, culminating in Nimitz signing the Instrument of Surrender on behalf of the United States of America on 2 September 1945. 

Back on Guam, Nimitz and his command spent a few days packing and returned to Hawaii. For the rest of his career as Chief of Naval Operations and later in retirement, he lamented finding himself “in a maelstrom of speeches, dinners, conferences, visits to Congressmen, Senators and plain downright lobbying.”³⁶

He preferred avoiding the social demands of his notoriety. On 16 March 1965, he wrote the Walkers that he had “now sworn off birthdays, interviews and anything that attracts mail.”³⁷ The Fleet Admiral passed away eleven months later on 20 February 1966, just four days before his 81st birthday. True to form, he eschewed the pomp of a state funeral to which he was entitled, opting instead for “a simple graveside ceremony.”³⁸