02 September 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

2 September, 1945

Nancy

My darling –

What with General Court Martial Boards and trips to the country – I’m really neglecting you, dear – but I hope you excuse me. I wrote you last on Friday; today is Sunday. I sat on the Board all day and we didn’t get thru the case until 2130; boy I was pooped. It involved a bunch of French civilian witnesses, interpreters etc – and the combination is time consuming. Anyway, yesterday I decided to go to Gérardmer – where our camp is, to look it over. I left at 0800 and got back at 2100 and although I was tired, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it, dear. It’s as pretty a spot as any I’ve seen around, peaceful in a valley in the Vosges, and it used to be a summer resort town for Parisians. The Germans systematically destroyed all but a few homes and hotels in the center of the town. It was purely out of revenge – because Gérardmer was not fought for. The lake is very pretty and since the weather was suitable, I went in for a swim. It was swell. It was so good and relaxing – the whole change of atmosphere, I mean – that I’m going to try and go back again, today and stay overnight. It isn’t exactly a lively spot for a Labor Day week-end – but that doesn’t matter, sweetheart because the only lively celebrations I’m interested in concern only you. And by gum – we’re not going to miss a heluva lot more, I hope. Now take this Lake, for example, how swell it would have been to have had you around to do a little walking around with, to hold your hand, to love. Yes – it’s that kind of spot – or rather, it could be, with you.

That reminds me – the other day I received your letter of 22 August; I got it on the 28th. What thrilled me particularly, darling – was your mention of the full moon. I was actually able to think back to the same night and the same moon! It really made me feel close to you. Other times when either you or I has mentioned the moon – the time elapsed has been so long – that the thrill was missing. Just think when we can be side by side looking up to the same moon! Yes – it still does something to me, I mean a fine moon – and more and more I’m sure the war hasn’t changed me particularly. I know it hasn’t altered my love for you except to enrich it, dear, and that’s good, isn’t it?

Your comments about my return and being alone – etc – were interesting to me. I hate mob scenes, too, and would much prefer to have our first re-meeting all for ourselves. But I haven’t the slightest idea what the circumstances will be or where we’ll land or what. It was nice of Irv and Verna to offer to do what they did – I mean bringing you down to Devens, for example – but gosh, darling – how would my folks or yours feel about it? Unless I called, and everyone started out and you started out first. Well – right now – it’s uncertain. We’ll see – but in a crowd or not – it’s going to be very, very wonderful – sweetheart – for I love you so very much – and it has been so long ––.

All for now, darling – I’ve got a few things to take care of. Be well, hold on a bit longer – and love to the folks.

All my deepest love is yours –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Japanese Surrender aboard the USS Missouri

On the morning of 2 September 1945, Allied and Japanese delegations met aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay for the formal signing of the Japanese surrender documents. (The USS Missouri was chosen because it was named after President Truman's home state.) After finishing an eloquent introductory statement, General MacArthur directed the representatives of Japan to sign the two instruments of surrender, one each for the Allied and Japanese governments. They were followed by representatives of the United States, China, the United Kingdom, the Soviet Union, Australia, Canada, France, the Netherlands, and New Zealand. World War II had formally ended, and President Truman declared 2 September to be the official VJ Day.

The following is a newsreel about the signing ceremony.

01 September 1945

No letter today. Just this:

The following is a letter written by Sergeant Myer Freeman, a medic in the 438th who was injured and sent home. He was mentioned by Greg in letters to Wilma on 04 May 1945, 17 May 1945, 27 May 1945 and 13 June 1945.

Letter to Greg from Sergeant Myer Freeman,
in a Valley Forge hospital


Front of Envelope


Back of Envelope



* TIDBIT *

about the Radio Address to the American People
After the Signing of the Terms
of Unconditional Surrender by Japan

Here is a video which plays the radio address delivered by President Harry Truman from the White House on 1 September 1945. The text of the speech follows the video.

My fellow Americans, and the Supreme Allied Commander, General MacArthur, in Tokyo Bay:

The thoughts and hopes of all America--indeed of all the civilized world--are centered tonight on the battleship Missouri. There on that small piece of American soil anchored in Tokyo Harbor the Japanese have just officially laid down their arms. They have signed terms of unconditional surrender.

Four years ago, the thoughts and fears of the whole civilized world were centered on another piece of American soil--Pearl Harbor. The mighty threat to civilization which began there is now laid at rest. It was a long road to Tokyo--and a bloody one.

We shall not forget Pearl Harbor.

The Japanese militarists will not forget the U.S.S. Missouri.

The evil done by the Japanese war lords can never be repaired or forgotten. But their power to destroy and kill has been taken from them. Their armies and what is left of their Navy are now impotent.

To all of us there comes first a sense of gratitude to Almighty God who sustained us and our Allies in the dark days of grave danger, who made us to grow from weakness into the strongest fighting force in history, and who has now seen us overcome the forces of tyranny that sought to destroy His civilization.

God grant that in our pride of the hour, we may not forget the hard tasks that are still before us; that we may approach these with the same courage, zeal, and patience with which we faced the trials and problems of the past 4 years.

Our first thoughts, of course--thoughts of gratefulness and deep obligation--go out to those of our loved ones who have been killed or maimed in this terrible war. On land and sea and in the air, American men and women have given their lives so that this day of ultimate victory might come and assure the survival of a civilized world. No victory can make good their loss.

We think of those whom death in this war has hurt, taking from them fathers, husbands, sons, brothers, and sisters whom they loved. No victory can bring back the faces they longed to see.

Only the knowledge that the victory, which these sacrifices have made possible, will be wisely used, can give them any comfort. It is our responsibility--ours, the living--to see to it that this victory shall be a monument worthy of the dead who died to win it.

We think of all the millions of men and women in our armed forces and merchant marine all over the world who, after years of sacrifice and hardship and peril, have been spared by Providence from harm.

We think of all the men and women and children who during these years have carried on at home, in lonesomeness and anxiety and fear.

Our thoughts go out to the millions of American workers and businessmen, to our farmers and miners--to all those who have built up this country's fighting strength, and who have shipped to our Allies the means to resist and overcome the enemy.

Our thoughts go out to our civil servants and to the thousands of Americans who, at personal sacrifice, have come to serve in our Government during these trying years; to the members of the Selective Service boards and ration boards; to the civilian defense and Red Cross workers; to the men and women in the USO and in the entertainment world--to all those who have helped in this cooperative struggle to preserve liberty and decency in the world.

We think of our departed gallant leader, Franklin D. Roosevelt, defender of democracy, architect of world peace and cooperation.

And our thoughts go out to our gallant Allies in this war: to those who resisted the invaders; to those who were not strong enough to hold out, but who, nevertheless, kept the fires of resistance alive within the souls of their people; to those who stood up against great odds and held the line, until the United Nations together were able to supply the arms and the men with which to overcome the forces of evil.

This is a victory of more than arms alone. This is a victory of liberty over tyranny.

From our war plants rolled the tanks and planes which blasted their way to the heart of our enemies; from our shipyards sprang the ships which bridged all the oceans of the world for our weapons and supplies; from our farms came the food and fiber for our armies and navies and for our Allies in all the corners of the earth; from our mines and factories came the raw materials and the finished products which gave us the equipment to overcome our enemies.

But back of it all were the will and spirit and determination of a free people--who know what freedom is, and who know that it is worth whatever price they had to pay to preserve it.

It was the spirit of liberty which gave us our armed strength and which made our men invincible in battle. We now know that that spirit of liberty, the freedom of the individual, and the personal dignity of man, are the strongest and toughest and most enduring forces in all the world.

And so on V-J Day we take renewed faith and pride in our own way of life. We have had our day of rejoicing over this victory. We have had our day of prayer and devotion. Now let us set aside V-J Day as one of renewed consecration to the principles which have made us the strongest nation on earth and which, in this war, we have striven so mightily to preserve.

Those principles provide the faith, the hope, and the opportunity which help men to improve themselves and their lot. Liberty does not make all men perfect nor all society secure. But it has provided more solid progress and happiness and decency for more people than any other philosophy of government in history. And this day has shown again that it provides the greatest strength and the greatest power which man has ever reached.

We know that under it we can meet the hard problems of peace which have come upon us. A free people with free Allies, who can develop an atomic bomb, can use the same skill and energy and determination to overcome all the difficulties ahead.

Victory always has its burdens and its responsibilities as well as its rejoicing.

But we face the future and all its dangers with great confidence and great hope. America can build for itself a future of employment and security. Together with the United Nations, it can build a world of peace rounded on justice, fair dealing, and tolerance.

As President of the United States, I proclaim Sunday, September the second, 1945, to be V-J Day--the day of formal surrender by Japan. It is not yet the day for the formal proclamation of the end of the war nor of the cessation of hostilities. But it is a day which we Americans shall always remember as a day of retribution--as we remember that other day, the day of infamy.

From this day we move forward. We move toward a new era of security at home. With the other United Nations we move toward a new and better world of cooperation, of peace and international good will and cooperation.

God's help has brought us to this day of victory. With His help we will attain that peace and prosperity for ourselves and all the world in the years ahead.

NOTE: The President's address was part of the broadcast of the surrender ceremonies on board the U.S.S. Missouri.

31 August 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

31 August, 1945

Nancy

My dearest fiancée –

This will really be a shortie because I’m already almost late for General Court which meets today – dammit. I was all set to go down to Lake Gérardmer to stay overnight and get out of at least one morning of sick-call. I’m getting so darned bored and irritated with the latter – it’s alarming. There’s only one thing I want sweetheart, and that is to go home to you and love you, love you and love you. I’m champing at the bit, I’m tugging at the tether – and oh yes – I’m impatient, too. Excuse me for now, darling, I’ve really got to go. Love to all –

and

All my love for always

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Truman's Communication with Atlee
and his Concern for Resettlement
of Jewish Refugees

The Harry S. Truman Library and Museum has published the Public Papers of Harry S. Truman which contain most of President Truman's public messages, statements, speeches, and news conference remarks. The letter below, found on the museum website, tells Britain's Prime Minister about the Harrison Report. Click here to see his Executive Order Abolishing the War Information Office, also published on this date.

31 August 1945

My dear Mr. Prime Minister:

Because of the natural interest of this Government in the present condition and future fate of those displaced persons in Germany who may prove to be stateless or non-repatriable, we recently sent Mr. Earl G. Harrison to inquire into the situation.

Mr. Harrison was formerly the United States Commissioner of Immigration and Naturalization, and is now the Representative of this Government on the Intergovernmental Committee on Refugees. The United Kingdom and the United States, as you know, have taken an active interest in the work of this Committee.

Instructions were given to Mr. Harrison to inquire particularly into the problems and needs of the Jewish refugees among the displaced persons.

Mr. Harrison visited not only the American zone in Germany, but spent some time also in the British zone where he was extended every courtesy by the 21st Army Headquarters.

I have now received his report*. In view of our conversations at Potsdam I am sure that you will find certain portions of the report interesting. I am, therefore, sending you a copy.

I should like to call your attention to the conclusions and recommendations appearing on page 8 and the following pages--especially the references to Palestine. It appears that the available certificates for immigration to Palestine will be exhausted in the near future. It is suggested that the granting of an additional one hundred thousand of such certificates would contribute greatly to a sound solution for the future of Jews still in Germany and Austria, and for other Jewish refugees who do not wish to remain where they are or who for understandable reasons do not desire to return to their countries of origin.

On the basis of this and other information which has come to me I concur in the belief that no other single matter is so important for those who have known the horrors of concentration camps for over a decade as is the future of immigration possibilities into Palestine. The number of such persons who wish immigration to Palestine or who would qualify for admission there is, unfortunately, no longer as large as it was before the Nazis began their extermination program. As I said to you in Potsdam, the American people, as a whole, firmly believe that immigration into Palestine should not be closed and that a reasonable number of Europe's persecuted Jews should, in accordance with their wishes, be permitted to resettle there.

I know you are in agreement on the proposition that future peace in Europe depends in large measure upon our finding sound solutions of problems confronting the displaced and formerly persecuted groups of people. No claim is more meritorious than that of the groups who for so many years have known persecution and enslavement.

The main solution appears to lie in the quick evacuation of as many as possible of the non-repatriable Jews, who wish it, to Palestine. If it is to be effective, such action should not be long delayed.

Very sincerely yours,
HARRY S TRUMAN

Note: The Harrison Report was discussed in a *TIDBIT* on 13 August 1945.

30 August 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

30 August, 1945

Nancy

Dearest darling Wilma –

A cloudy cool day again and rather welcome at that, after the rather warm spell we’ve had this week. It was even too hot to play tennis – so some of us just sat around and talked. In the evening we went down to the Officer’s Club – but there wasn’t much doing down there and we got back early. Today I’ve already been notified that our General Court meets at 1000 tomorrow morning and that screws up my plans. I believe I told you about a “rest” camp that battalion has on a lake about 75 miles from here. It’s supposed to be very pretty and I had planned to go tomorrow and stay over until Saturday. Now – that’s out and I’m disappointed, dear. Frankly – I’ve reached that periodic stage when sick-call drives me crazy and I find myself barking at the fellows and I’m very impatient with everyone. It isn’t much work, but it’s seven mornings of every week and I have to see everyone of them that comes in. I’d like a couple of days off but I guess I’ll just have to wait for another opportunity.

Well I received a letter from you yesterday – written 21 August. You had returned from the Cape and found some letters from me. I was particularly pleased to see that my letters are now reaching you in pretty good time. That’s good – because there’s no doubt about how much difference it makes. I get the biggest thrill out of reading a letter of yours actually written in the same week that I’m reading it. It makes me most acutely aware of your closeness to me, and when you write that you love me – I can almost hear you saying it. What an imagination! Well – it does make a difference – just the same!

Say, sweetheart, you wrote me one day that you had had “at least six good drinks” and you didn’t even feel light-headed. What gives? Who’s going to have to cut down on the alcohol, anyway? I’m only kidding, of course – but you know – being able to toss off a couple of drinks without becoming giddy is almost a social prerequisite these days. I wonder what it’s going to be like to be able to go where I want to and when I want to. Three years plus in the Army almost stunts the imagination – along those lines and honestly – it’s difficult to think back. Each soldier will get the same thrill and I suppose the thrill will be even greater for the E.M.

I’m enclosing some sheet music today, dear. I first heard this song in Germany. We were in a home that had a Victrola and we played one record called “Komm Zurüch”. I thought it was a German song. But when we got to France, we found that it was originally a French song “J’attendrai” – a tremendous hit in 1939 when the French were getting ready for war. It’s simple – but play it and see if you don’t get to like it and find yourself humming it. It’s sentimental and I never could hear it or hear it now without thinking of your waiting for me. I’m so happy that you did and still are, sweetheart. It’s such a satisfying thought; it stimulates me, it makes me love you more and more and soon darling, you won’t have to wait. I’ll be there right with you and then – for always.

All for now, dear – love to the folks –

and

All my deepest love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about "J'attendrai"

"J'attendrai" (French for "I Will Wait") is a French popular song recorded by Rina Ketty in 1938. It is a translation of the Italian song "Tornerai" (Italian for "You Will Return") composed by Dino Olivieri (music) and Nino Rastelli (lyrics) in 1933, inspired from the Humming Chorus of Puccini's Opera "Madame Butterfly". The French lyrics were written by Louis Potérat. The song was also recorded in German under the title "Komm zurück", in Czech as "Věřím vám", in Swedish as "Blott för dig" and in Polish as "Czekam cię".

Achieving great popularity in its day, the song has since come to be seen as emblematic of the start of World War II.

J'Attendrai sung by Jean Sablon in a 1939 recording
followed by the French Lyrics and an English Translation

French Lyrics

J'attendrai
Le jour et la nuit, j'attendrai toujours
Ton retour
J'attendrai
Car l'oiseau qui s'enfuit vient chercher l'oubli
Dans son nid
Le temps passe et court
En battant tristement
Dans mon coeur plus doux
Et pourtant, j'attendrai
Ton retour

Reviens bien vite
Les jours sont froids
Et sans limite
Les nuits sans toi
Quand on se quitte
On oubli tout
Mais revenir est si doux
Si ma tristesse peut t'émouvoir
Avec ivresse
Reviens un soir
Et dans mes bras
Tout s'oublira

j'attendrai toujours
Ton retour
Car l'oiseau qui s'enfuit vient chercher l'oubli
Dans son nid
Le temps passe et court
En battant tristement
Dans mon coeur plus lourd
Et pourtant, j'attendrai
Ton retour

(Imperfect) Translation of French Lyrics

I shall wait
Day and night
I shall wait forever for
Your return
I shall wait
Because the bird that flies away comes back to find lost memories
in it's nest
Time passes and runs,
my softer heart beating sadly
And yet, I shall await
Your return

Return well quickly, the days are cold
And the nights without you are unending
When one is left, one forgets all
But to return is so soft

If my sadness can intoxicate you,
return one evening
And in my arms
Everything shall be forgotten.

(I shall wait
Day and night)
I shall wait forever for
Your return
(I shall wait)
Because the bird that flies away comes
back to find lost memories
in it's nest
Time passes and runs,
my heavier heart beating sadly
And yet, I shall await
Your return

I shall wait
Day and night
I shall wait for
your return
I shall wait
Because the bird that flees comes
back to find lost memories
in it's nest
Time passes and runs,
beating sadly
In my heart so heavy
And yet, I shall await
your return

29 August 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

29 August, 1945

Nancy

My dearest sweetheart –

We’re having a spell of what is like our Indian Summer and it’s very pleasant. But oh how the time hangs heavy these days and nights. No matter how we try to avoid it – the subject of the trip home comes to the front. I use the word ‘avoid’ in the wrong sense perhaps. But we just end up by becoming very aggravated and impatient. The officers with the very high points want to get going. Fellows with about as many points as I are anxious for them to get going, too, for when they do – we get to the top of the list – presumably – and we go home next. If the plans for getting a million men home in the next 3 months is going to work, there will have to be a tremendous speed up around here – for at present, there’s no one moving at all.

I got a letter from my folks yesterday and it was a pleasure to read their reaction to VJ night. It made me happy to realize they could stop their acute anxiety over Lawrence. They’re impatient, too, for my return home, dear; I never realized how much – because on the whole – Dad A has shown more restraint in his letters than I thought he was capable of. Anyway – he said he got ‘partly drunk’ on VJ nite – whatever partly drunk means. And even my mother took a few, he wrote – and that is really something.

1100

Hello dear –

I started this at 0930 and didn’t get very far before being interrupted. Rather than take a chance of letting that happen again, I want to tell you right now, sweetheart, that I love you very very much and I don’t want you to forget that for a moment! It’s so darned difficult to express myself – the way I feel – in writing. One would think that after almost 22 months of practice – I’d be accomplished in the art of describing my emotions in relation to you, darling. But it becomes increasingly difficult, probably because my feelings in all that time have far surpassed my ability to write expressively. No matter how you look at it, though, I love you dearly – and darling you’ll just have to take those words for their full meaning.

News, again, from here is nil; not even a poor rumor has developed in the past 48 hours. So we go on playing Bridge, seeing the movies and playing Tennis. Night before last we went to the French movies. It was good – “La Vie Boheme” – but straight drama, without the music. It was well done – and my opinion of French movies at the moment – is high.

I’ve been appointed a member of a General Court Martial Board that meets in this town in the next few days. The cases are usually interesting – but it ties up a whole day – for days at a time. There’s no way of getting out of it, however – so I’ll have to take it.

I hope to hear from you today, sweetheart. I still don’t know whether that trip to Canada developed – or not. For now, dear – so long, love to the folks – and

All my sweetest love –

Greg

Orders for Greg to Participate in a Court Martial
CLICK to enlarge

* TIDBIT *

about the Liberation of Gregory "Pappy" Boyington

Gregory "Pappy" Boyington
4 December 1912 - 11 January 1988

Gregory “Pappy” Boyington was born on 4 December 1912 in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. He grew up in Tacoma, Washington and graduated from the University of Washington in 1934 with a degree in aeronautical engineering. Following his graduation he took a job with Boeing, working as a draftsman and engineer. He began his military career in college as a member of the ROTC Program and was commissioned a second lieutenant in the Coast Artillery Reserves. In 1936, he accepted an appointment as an aviation cadet in the Marine Corps Reserves, assigned to the Pensacola Naval Air Station in Florida. The next year he was designated a Naval Aviator and stationed at Quantico, Virginia.

Boyington resigned his commission in the Marine Corps in August of 1941 to accept a position with the Central Aircraft Manufacturing Company (CAMCO). CAMCO was a civilian organization that contracted to staff a Special Air Unit to defend China and the Burma Road. The unit later became known as the American Volunteer Group (AVG), the famed Flying Tigers of China. During his time with the “Tigers” he became a flight leader where he frequently clashed with ranking commanders.

In 1942, Boyington returned to the Marine Corps and became the Executive Officer of VMF-121 operating from Guadalcanal and later became commanding officer of Marine Fighter Squadron 214, which became known as “The Black Sheep Squadron.” At the age of 31, he was more than 10 years older than most of his men, so they first nicknamed him “Gramps,” which later became “Pappy.” During the squadron’s first tour of combat “Pappy” shot down 14 enemy fighters, and by the end of the year the number climbed to 25. Between his tour in China and Burma and later action in the South Pacific, Boyington shot down 28 planes - a World War II record for a Marine pilot. But the day of his 28th kill, 3 January 1944, was also the day he was shot down by a Japanese Zero fighter and was picked up by a Japanese Submarine. He spent the rest of the war as a Prisoner of War.

The following is an excerpt from Boyington's autobiographical novel, Baa Baa Black Sheep, describing his final combat mission.

It was before dawn on 3 January 1944, on Bougainville.

I was having baked beans for breakfast at the edge of the airstrip the Seabees had built, after the Marines had taken a small chunk of land on the beach. As I ate the beans, I glanced over at row after row of white crosses, too far away and too dark to read the names. But I didn't have to, I knew that each cross marked the final resting place of some Marine who had gone as far as he was able in this mortal world of ours.

Before taking off everything seemed to be wrong that morning. My plane wasn't ready and I had to switch to another. At last minute the ground crew got my original plane in order and I scampered back into that. I was to lead a fighter sweep over Rabaul, meaning two hundred miles over enemy waters and territory again. We coasted over at about twenty thousand feet to Rabaul. A few hazy cloud banks were hanging around-not much different from a lot of other days. The fellow flying my wing was Captain George Ashmun, New York City. He had told me before the mission: "You go ahead and shoot all you want, Gramps. All I'll do is keep them off your tail." This boy was another who wanted me to beat that record, and was offering to stick his neck way out in the bargain.

I spotted a few planes coming through the loosely scattered clouds and signaled to the pilots in back of me: "Go down and get to work." George and I dove first. I poured a long burst into the first enemy plane that approached, and a fraction of a second later saw the Nip pilot catapult out and the plane itself break out into fire. George screamed out over the radio: "Gramps, you got a flamer!"

Then he and I went down lower into the fight after the rest of the enemy planes. We figured that the whole pack of our planes was going to follow us down, but the clouds must have obscured their view. Anyway, George and I were not paying too much attention, just figuring that the rest of the boys would be with us in a few seconds, as was usually the case. Finding approximately ten enemy planes, George and I commenced firing. What we saw coming from above we thought were our own planes - but they were not. We were being jumped by about twenty planes. George and I scissored in the conventional thatch weave way, protecting each others blank spots, the rear ends of our fighters. In doing this I saw George shoot a burst into a plane and it turned away from us plunging downward, all on fire. A second later I did the same thing to another plane. But it was then that I saw George's plane start to throw smoke, and down he went in a half glide. I sensed something was horribly wrong with him. I screamed at him: "For God's sake, George, dive!"

Our planes could dive away from practically anything the Nips had out there at the time, except perhaps a Tony. But apparently George had never heard me or could do nothing about it if he had. He just kept going down in a half glide. Time and time again I screamed at him: "For God's sake, George, dive strait down!" But he didn't even flutter an aileron in answer to me.

I climbed in behind the Nip planes that were plugging at him on the way down to the water. There were so many of them I wasn't even bothering to use my electric gun sight consciously, but continued to seesaw back and forth on my rudder pedals, trying to spray them all in general, trying to get them off George to give him a chance to bail out or dive - or do something at least. But the same thing that was happening to him was now happening to me. I could feel the impact of enemy fire against my armor plate, behind my back, like hail on a tin roof. I could see the enemy shots progressing along my wing tips, making patterns.

George's plane burst into flames and a moment later crashed into the water. At that point there was nothing left for me to do. I had done everything I could. I decided to get the hell away from the Nips. I threw everything in the cockpit all the way forward - this means full speed ahead - and nosed my plane over to pick up extra speed until I was forced by water to level off. I had gone practically a half a mile at a speed of about four hundred knots, when all of a sudden my main gas tank went up in flames in front of my very eyes. The sensation was much the same as opening the door of a furnace and sticking one's head into the thing.

Though I was about a hundred feet off the water, I didn't have a chance of trying to gain altitude. I was fully aware that if I tried to gain altitude for a bail-out I would be fried in a few more seconds.

On 29 August 1945, Boyington was liberated from the Omori Prison Camp and eventually returned to the United States. For some reason, the Japanese did not want Boyington's whereabouts known to the Allies, so they never reported his capture. The Marines listed him as missing in action, but many thought he died in the crash. Through a fellow POW, he was able to send a code word to his mother that he was still alive. But for the rest of America, when his camp was liberated the Medal of Honor winner seemed to come back from the dead. On 12 September 1945 he was reunited with 21 former members of “The Black Sheep Squadron.” After returning to the United State Lieutenant Colonel Gregory “Pappy” Boyington was awarded the Medal of Honor, and on 4 October1945 he received the Navy Cross from the Commandant of the Marine Corps. “Pappy” Boyington retired from the Marines in 1947.

Pappy's alcohol addiction plagued him throughout his life. As leader of the "Black Sheep Squadron", Boyington was a flamboyant commander, a darling of war reporters and a heavy drinker. According to one memoir, he would get raging drunk and try to wrestle other pilots - who were usually 10 or more years his junior. His addiction, he once wrote, was "no doubt the most damning thing in my character." In his post-war years Boyington went through a series of lurid, broken marriages and bounced from one job to another: beer salesman, stock salesman, jewelry salesman, wrestling referee. Liquor was always present. According to his son, Alcoholics Anonymous helped, but he never completely licked his addiction.

Today, many people are familiar with “Pappy” Boyington only because of the 1970’s TV Show “The Black Sheep Squadron,” which was very loosely based on Boyinton’s memoir. Robert Conrad portrayed Boyington on the TV Show. However,Boyington was often critical of the TV show, reminding interviewers and audiences that the TV show was fiction and “Hogwash.”

Boyington reportedly visited the National Air and Space Museum’s Gaber Preservation Center while a F4U Corsair similar to the one he flew was being restored. He autographed the aircraft with a marker in one of the wheel wells. Today that Corsair is on display at the National Air and Space Museum’s, Stephen D. Udvar-Hazy Center near Dulles Airport. Sharp eyed visitors may be able to see the autograph as the plane hangs from the rafters. Gregory “Pappy” Boyington died in Fresno, California on 11 January 1988 from complications of cancer. He is resting in Section 7 of Arlington National Cemetery.

Here is a newsreel about "Pappy" which includes his arrival after his liberation and a few words about his ordeal.

28 August 1945

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

28 August, 1945

Nancy

My darling fiancée –

When in the world am I going to be able to say ‘wife’? I know one thing. I’ll surely appreciate it when I can. I don’t suppose I’ve ever really been very effusive about my love for you, darling – I mean compared to the way some fellows tell their sweethearts, but honestly, darling, I love you with all the depth and sincerity I know how. I’ve done the best I’ve been able to in its expression by mail. I’m certain I can express it more adequately when I’m once again with you, dear. Then again – maybe I won’t be capable of saying the right words. Well – I can always rely on actions – and sweetheart – if it’s consistency, devotion, attention and admiration that you want – why I think you’ll be happy.

I’ve often wondered, just as perhaps you have, about the fact that we didn’t know each other for very long before we left – that there was so much we didn’t know about each other’s habits, that maybe we wouldn’t click when we were together again. Those are natural reflections for thinking people – and I couldn’t help thinking about such things, – nor you. Your mention of Zelda and her unhappiness, the lack of something substantial to keep them together – brought all this to mind. I don’t know the sources of their trouble – incompatibility, insincerity, unfaithful – whatever it was – they apparently didn’t have a bond strong enough to keep them from separating. I don’t pretend to believe that our marriage will be the most perfect one ever – that would be too much to hope for and if you think you’re going to have that type and don’t quite reach it – the disappointment will offset all the beautiful things you do have. But darling – I think we’re going to be very very happy and I think we’re going to be very successful in our marriage. How many couples know each other or knew each other as little as we did and yet managed to keep their tenuous bond and strengthen it into a strong chain? Not many, I’ll venture to say. To start from so little and end up with a tie that finds me thinking of everything only in terms of you, dear, that finds me translating every deed into terms of how you’d like it or respond to it – well, I just know we’ve got something to lean on darling – and I’m happy. Just let me get back and I’ll tell you about it.

I received two letters from you yesterday – comparatively old – but I enjoyed them. One gave your reactions on VJ day and a description of the crowds etc in Boston. I’d have loved to have been there. You know by now that we just didn’t get the same lift back here. But we’ll go all through that again when I get back – and really now – each day does bring us closer and closer together. Frankly –– I can hardly wait.

And now I’ve got to ‘knock off’ as they say here and do a bit of work. We’re just marking time here waiting for something to break. No new rumors today, darling – but I’ll keep you posted.

All for now – dear – love to the folks – and

All my everlasting love –

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Jackie Robinson and the Baseball Color Barrier


Jackie Robinson, soldier

Jackie Robinson gained national recognition in 1941 when he became the first athlete in the history of UCLA to earn a letter in four different sports in the same year (football, basketball, track and baseball). Drafted into the Army, he was discharged in 1945 and joined the Kansas City Monarchs of the American Negro League. While playing in Chicago with the team, Jackie was approached by a White scout, Clyde Sukeforth, who told him that Brooklyn Dodger general manager Branch Rickey would like to meet with him.

Jackie with the Kansas City Monarchs

Jackie arrived in Brooklyn, New York on 28 August 1945, for a very important meeting in Branch Rickey's office.

Jackie Robinson and Branch Rickey (in 1950)

When Robinson traveled to New York City for the meeting he was unaware that he was going to be asked to become the first Black player in major league baseball. The decision to open up "America's favorite pastime" to African-Americans was in no small part due to the contribution they had made to the country's war effort. Happy Chandler, the newly installed Baseball Commissioner, was quoted as saying that: "if they (African-Americans) can fight and die on Okinawa, Guadalcanal (and) in the South Pacific, they can play ball in America." Branch Rickey agreed, but everyone knew that the first Black to break through the color barrier would not only have to be talented enough to play in the majors but strong enough to withstand with dignity the inevitable racial taunts that would be hurled his way. Jackie Robinson was their man. Jackie believed that black people should be treated fairly. He also knew that he would be judged for how he behaved when faced with confrontation. If he lost control of his behavior, he could possibly hurt the chances of other players wishing to join the majors.

The meeting in Rickey's office lasted about three hours. Rickey grilled the 26 year old Robinson on his resolve and challenged him with racist scenarios that he may have to confront on and off the field. Satisfied with his response, Rickey assigned Robinson to the Montreal Royals - a Dodger farm team - for the 1946 season.

Jackie playing with the Montreal Royals

Robinson was moved up to the Dodgers at the beginning of the 1947 season.

Jackie Robinson with the Brooklyn Dodgers

From an article called "Jackie Robinson Breaks Baseball's Color Barrier, 1945," on the web site of EyeWitness to History, came this account of that meeting. The account begins as Jackie enters Branch Rickey's office. The Dodger boss sits in a leather swivel chair behind a mammoth walnut desk. After some small talk, Rickey lights up a cigar and gets down to the heart of the interview:

'Are you under contract to the Kansas City Monarchs?'

'No, sir,' Robinson replied quickly. 'We don't have contracts.'

'Do you have any agreements - written or oral - about how long you will play for them?'

'No, sir, none at all. I just work from payday to payday.'

Rickey nodded and his bushy brows mashed into a scowl. He toyed with the ever-present cigar, seeking the right words, 'Do you know why you were brought here?'

'Not exactly. I heard something about a colored team at Ebbets Field. That it?'

'No . . . that isn't it.' Rickey studied the dark face, the half-open mouth, the widened and worried eyes. Then he said, 'You were brought here, Jackie, to play for the Brooklyn organization. Perhaps on Montreal to start with -'

'Me? Play for Montreal?' the player gasped.

Rickey nodded. 'If you can make it, yes. Later on - also if you can make it - you'll have a chance with the Brooklyn Dodgers.' Robinson could only nod at this point.

'I want to win pennants and we need ballplayers!' Rickey whacked the desk. He sketched the efforts and the scope of his two-year search for players of promise.'Do you think you can do it? Make good in organized baseball?'

Robinson shifted to relieve his mounting tension.

'If . . . if I got the chance,' he stammered.

'There's more here than just playing, Jackie,' Rickey warned. 'I wish it meant only hits, runs and errors - things you can see in a box score. . . .'

'Can you do it? Can you do it?' Rickey asked over and over.

Shifting nervously, Robinson looked from Rickey to Sukeforth as they talked of his arms and legs and swing and courage. Did he have the guts to play the game no matter what happened? Rickey pointed out the enormity of the responsibility for all concerned: owners of the club, Rickey, Robinson and all baseball. The opposition would shout insults, come in spikes first, throw at his head.

'Mr. Rickey,' Robinson said, 'they've been throwing at my head for a long time.'

Rickey's voice rose. 'Suppose I'm a player. . . in the heat of an important ball game.' He drew back as if to charge at Robinson. 'Suppose I collide with you at second base. When I get up, I yell, 'You dirty, black son of a -' 'He finished the castigation and added calmly, 'What do you do?'

Robinson blinked. He licked his lips and swallowed.

'Mr. Rickey,' he murmured, 'do you want a ballplayer who's afraid to fight back?'

'I want a ballplayer with guts enough not to fight back!' Rickey exclaimed almost savagely. He paced across the floor and returned with finger pointing. 'You've got to do this job with base hits and stolen bases and fielding ground balls, Jackie. Nothing else!'

He moved behind his big desk again and faced the cornered Robinson. He posed as a cynical clerk in a southern hotel who not only refused him a room, but cursed him as he did so. What would Robinson do? He posed as a prejudiced sportswriter, ordered to turn in a twisted story, full of bias and racial animosity. How would Robinson answer the sportswriter? He ordered the player from imaginary dining rooms. He jostled him in imaginary hotel lobbies, railroad stations. What would Robinson do?

'Now I'm playing against you in a World Series!" Rickey stormed and removed his jacket for greater freedom. Robinson's hands clenched, trembled from the rising tension. "I'm a hotheaded player. I want to win that game, so I go into you spikes first, but you don't give ground. You stand there and you jab the ball into my ribs and the umpire yells, 'Out!' I flare up - all I see is your face-that black face right on top of me -'

Rickey's bespectacled face, glistening with sweat, was inches from Robinson's at this point. He yelled into the motionless mask, 'So I haul off and punch you right in the cheek!'

An oversized fist swung through the air and barely missed Robinson's face. He blinked, but his head didn't move.

'What do you do?' Rickey roared.

'Mr. Rickey,' he whispered, 'I've got two cheeks. That it?'

Jackie led the Dodgers to six National titles and one World Series Championship and was named the National League's Most Valuable Player in 1949.

* TIDBIT *

within a

* TIDBIT *

Robinson's older brother, Matthew Robinson, inspired Jackie to pursue his talent and love for athletics. Matthew won a silver medal in the 200-meter dash — just behind Jesse Owens — at the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin.

27 August 1945

V-MAIL

438^th AAA AW BN

APO 513 % Postmaster, N.Y.

27 August, 1945

Nancy

Good Morning, darling!

I love you, dear – and this morning, with bananas and cream! Just to clarify that a bit – we had bananas at breakfast – the first in about two years. And you know, sweetheart, they tasted about the same as they used to.

Well – it was almost like old times last night. I got into bed at 2230 and fell promptly asleep. But – the phone rang at 0030, 0200 and 0400. I was mad – although I can remember when I wouldn’t mind the call – as long as I didn’t have to go out. I didn’t have to last night.

Today, I’ve got to do a lot of inspecting of kitchens – etc. I tell you, darling, I’m just going to inspect you all the time. Oh Boy!! All for now, dear. Love to the family and

All my deepest and sincerest love

Greg

* TIDBIT *

about Shifting Military Manpower

From TIME magazine, Volume XLVI, Number 9 published on 27 August 1945 (cover shown above) comes this article called "Peace Shock" in the section on National Affairs.

Off the Canal Zone the voice on the bullhorn of the transport General Harry Taylor blared: "Now hear this! Watch the shadow of the ship." Then the Taylor's skipper, Captain Leonard B. Jaudon, added: "As it turns toward New York."

More than 3,000 soldiers let out a cheer that shook the ship from bow to stern. They had been diverted from the Pacific.

The soldiers on the Taylor and about 20 other transports bound from Europe to the Pacific were almost unique in their joy. For both Army & Navy redeployment had become an uneasy nightmare. Among the 7,000,000 soldiers and sailors straining to get home, many were unhappy, angry, disgruntled.

Sailors . . .
Navy men griped because their point-discharge system, announced last week, allowed no credit for combat or overseas service. The system: one-half point for each year of age, another half point for each month of service, ten points for a dependent (but none for additional dependents). Points required for discharge: enlisted men 44, officers 49, enlisted women 29, women officers 35. About 307,000 became eligible for dis charge; 20,000 more could get out who had won certain awards (Medal of Honor, Navy Cross, Legion of Merit, Silver Star, D.F.C.).

Marines' discharge was set at 85 points on the Army system.

. . . and Soldiers Too.
Soldiers of the 86th ("Blackhawk") Infantry Division, waiting at Pittsburg, Calif., to be redeployed to the Pacific after 28 days of combat in Europe, sent telegrams to editors: "The Regular Army wishes to send additional divisions rather than individuals so that they can keep control over large organizations . . . for the retention of their temporary wartime high ranks. . . ." The battle-seasoned 95th Infantry Division, reassembling for Pacific deployment at Camp Shelby, Miss., sent petitions to newspapers and Congressmen: "Why should we serve on two fronts when there are many who never served on one?"

The Slow Wheels.
The War Department said the 86th had already been screened twice, the 95th once, to avoid sending highpoint men overseas. The Navy Department's stock answer to protests was that its policy was being "clarified," that 1,500,000 to 2,500,000 men would be discharged within 18 months.

Peace had hit the services like another Pearl Harbor. But, as War Secretary Stimson pointed out, there were "2,250,000 trained Japanese soldiers in the home islands alone, and an equal number" in other Pacific and Asiatic territory. The U.S. must disarm these men, and ships that nose into Japanese islands must be combat-loaded.

Regardless of current snafu and individual injustices, it was possible last week to see the shadow of the postwar Army & Navy:

• European forces, now 2,780,000 strong, will shrink to 400,000. How many men will be required to police the Japanese islands, nobody knew; some guessed 1,500,000.
• The Army planned to discharge 5,000,000 men within a year. The Navy process would probably be slower, but the 327,000 currently eligible will be out within four months and separation centers eventually will handle 16,000 a day.
• The Navy will ask for a postwar complement of 50,000 officers, 500,000 men, plus 100,000 Marines. Meantime, the Navy works frantically on plans to berth its excess ships somewhere. No size can yet be correctly guessed for the Army, but it was announced last week that draftees who want to re-enlist after furloughs will be allowed to retain their ratings, given bonuses up to $150.
• WAC and WAVE recruiting had stopped, but WAC enlistments were still being accepted.
• President Truman announced that the draft would continue, but only for men under 26, and at a rate of 50,000 a month instead of 80,000.