Milt’s Military

Finally we were told that we would be taken to an airfield where the American planes would come and take us out. We boarded several buses and headed to the airfield, with the cells and prisons and constant fear behind us. When we reached the airfield we found buses and trucks coming in by the dozens dropping off hundreds of Allied prisoners. It’s impossible to describe the atmosphere of relief and joy that prevailed in that group, even though so many of them were in very sorry physical condition. We stayed there one night, and the next day we heard the roar of airplane engines and then saw the most beautiful sight any of us had ever seen, a string of about 100 C-47 cargo/troop carriers coming in to land one by one. As each one landed, the plane would be filled up with POWs and then take off immediately, like an efficient assembly line.

We were initially flown to an airfield in Tokyo, where the pilot took us on the tour of the bombed out city. We had never seen anything like it, there was literally nothing left. We stayed in Tokyo a day or two in the hangars where we were sorted out by country. From there we were flown to Okinawa for another day or two, and then finally to the Philippines.

There we were given some fast physicals by army doctors, and the non-ambulatory men were put aboard planes and flown back to the US. We were all issued new, full uniforms, which we officers didn’t have to pay for this time, and eventually were told we would be boarding a ship that would take us to San Francisco. On September 19, 1945 we were taken to the docks and put aboard the USS Yarmouth. This ship, believe it or not, was from my hometown. Before the war it was used to make trips from Boston to Nova Scotia and back.

Aboard ship the officers and enlisted men were separated, so I lost track of my two crewmen. The officers were assigned two-man staterooms, very small, just enough room for and upper and lower berth, but for us it was luxury. A mattress on the floor would have been luxury. We were issued a schedule for lunch and dinner because the officers’ mess held only about 12 at a time. The enlisted men we housed somewhere below decks and had to stand in a long line for their meals. We had to stand in line for the noon meal, but the officers had a separate server so the wait was not as long and for the enlisted men. But there were no complaints. We had nothing better to do and real food was worth the wait.

The first morning at the designated time we went to the officers’ mess for breakfast. When we walked in we couldn’t believe our eyes. There was a white linen tablecloth on the table, each place setting had a linen napkin and heave silver utensils, and a menu. A MENU? This was heaven. On this menu was every breakfast item you could think of, from juice and cereal to steak and eggs and everything in between. Seated next to me was a navigator who I had met before because he lived in the town next to mine. We were reading the menu when a Philippine mess boy walked in with his white jacket and went around the table asking "May I take your order, sir?" Talk about culture shock. When he came to the man next to me, he asked the mess boy "Do you have everything on this menu?" He was told they did so he said "I’ll be on this ship for 20-21 days. Don’t ever ask me what I want, just bring me one of everything on the menu." The mess boy looked at him in disbelief and asked if he was serious, and was assured he was. So for the duration of voyage this guy did little more than eat. By the time we arrived in San Francisco, you could have tipped him off the top of the gangplank and he would have rolled down with no problem. I ran into him years later in Boston and he was thin as a rail. I couldn’t believe it was the same person. We had menus at dinner, too, not as extensive as breakfast but equally good.

With the exception of one day, the weather was good during the entire trip, sunny and mild. Most of us cut off the legs of a pair of pants and went up on deck to stretch out in the sun. What a life! Not all of us were enjoying things quite as much. I remember watching some of the men that had been in Bataan and Corrigador who had been in prison for 3 ½ years. They would stand at the rail on deck for hours and just stare off into space. I believe they were having a difficult time grasping that they were actually now free.

When we reached San Francisco, we were put on buses and taken to Letterman General Hospital in the Presidio. There we were given complete physicals and most of us, including myself, we found to have intestinal worms. We were given 5-6 large capsules to take, and I swallowed them as instructed. The next day the capsules started to work. I had just barely made it to the lavatory when the room started spinning and I felt like I was going to pass out. As luck would have it, I was alone in there at the time. I had managed to crawl to one of the sinks and grab hold of it when someone came in. I started to ask him to get help when I passed out and hit the floor. I dimly recall my head hitting the floor and the guy screaming for a nurse or doctor. The next thing I remember was that I was on a stretcher being brought back to bed. One of the doctors told me I would be using a bedpan from then on, but I vehemently fought that idea. He compromised and said I could use the lavatory but an orderly would have to accompany me. I assured him I was fine and didn’t need anyone. I didn’t like the idea of someone standing there while I was on the hopper. However, he insisted, and I was accompanied by an orderly when I had to go next. I did my thing and stood up and the orderly asked how I felt, and I started to say just fine when I hit the floor again. So it was back to bed in a stretcher.

The day before all this happened, I had been told that a reservation had been made for me on a train for me to return home to Boston. Reservations were necessary and precious because of all the men coming into San Francisco to be discharged and sent home. For some reason my reservation had included a berth, maybe because of my POW status, I don’t know and didn’t argue. But the reservation was for this day that I kept passing out so I kept asking the doctor "Can you get me on that train?" He kept saying to wait until we saw how I felt, and I kept insisting I had to get on that train. Finally he agreed to send me to the station in an ambulance with an orderly who would stand by until the train left. I got there with no more mishaps and the orderly stayed on the train with me until the "all aboard" sounded, then wished me luck and left.

It was mid-October, 1945, and I was on my way home.

To Be Continued...

 Milt's War - Index