1941 (15 years old)
I got out of the CCC's on the 10th of April and was I ever glad to
go home. I had turned fifteen that January.
By that time brother Bryson had started driving truck for an outfit
called Beckly Livestock Co. He let me ride with him every time I could
catch him. We went to all the Western states on this side of the Rocky
mountains. I learned how to drive a truck and that is for sure.
It seems that about the time I got out of the CCC's somebody robbed
a grocery store in Fallon. After nearly all summer of investigating the
police came and asked my dad where I was. He told them and they said
they wanted to see me when I got home. All of this stems from my
trouble over the bicycle and the Coke. Anyway my dad thought I was a
goner for sure so he took me to Stockton, California and enlisted me in
the Army. That was Oct. 2, 1941.
I think you should know that at this time I was a real smart ass.
I had been around and as they used to say "heard the owl hoot". I
always had something to say about everything. I don't think there was
anything I wouldn't do if somebody dared me. So, I firmly believe that
if my dad hadn't put me in the Army, I would be in prison today. I also
feel that there are quite a few other scrapes I got into during that
time that I'd rather not tell you about. Nothing I could be locked up
for, but unfit for tender ears. As I said, I was fifteen.
I was sent to the Presidio of Montery in California. I'm sure you
all know it. I stayed there about two weeks and was sent to Camp
Roberts at San Miguel, California. That is near Paso Robles. I took
part of my basic training there until the middle of November, 1941.
Lets go back here just a little way and let me tell you about my
continuing education in life. As I said, I was real mouthy and I had an
opinion about everything and I thought I was pretty tough. I hadn't
ever really lost a fist fight before. We had a sargent named Schwarts.
He was an big guy. But as I said old big mouth Miller always had
something to say. One day I was disrupting a class on bayonet drill.
He told me several times to shut up. I didn't. He says, "Hey Miller
come over here for a minute." We went behind the barracks and he just
beat the crap out of me. I never even laid a hand on him. My mouth got
a lot smaller after that and I even started learning things. Just after
that I was attached to the 27th Infantry division, part of which was on
their way to Hawaii. I was assigned to the 108th regiment at Fort
McDowell in San Francisco. We were there eight days when we were loaded
onto a troop ship, the President Cleveland, and were off to Honolulu.
Boy, did I ever get seasick. We were at sea seven days and I thought I
would die at least ten times a day. We were two days off Pearl Harbor
when the Japs attacked it on Dec. 7, 1941. We turned around and
started back for San Francisco and during the night we turned again for
Hawaii. This time we landed on the Island of Maui. Everyone expected
the Japanese to follow up the air attack with assault landings by
infantry. I can't remember how many nights I spent in a gun emplacement
on the beach with my heart in my mouth waiting for the Japs to land. Of
course they never did, but it took six months for us to realize they
weren't going to.
1942 (16 years old)
All of Hawaii was under Martial Law, which means the military was
in complete control over the population and civilian government. As you
may or may not know, almost all of the Hawaiian population is oriental,
so every civilian you saw could be a potential enemy. As I said, we
were running scared for months and the civilians didn't help much,
although I never met one that wasn't just as patriotic as I was, and
just as scared. I even dated a girl there. Her name was Tomio Usueki.
A very pretty Japanese girl. Her dad was a dairy farmer and he didn't
like me very much. At that time we had a camp out in the lava beds at a
place called Kehei. I understand that a road goes thru there now, but
in 1942 there sure wasn't. Anyway, we were out there in the cactus and
lava and Nyoli trees with big old thorns about one inch long and
mosquitos big enough to fly away with a chicken. We stayed in pup tents
when the living was good, which wasn't often. Doesn't sound like
Hawaii, does it? The big deal for us was going to a movie in Punenne
and going by Tomios dad's dairy afterwards to get chocolate milk. Yeah.
Big deal.
Of course we didn't know then about the torture and hardship that
other servicemen were going thru in the Philippines and Guam and Wake
Islands. They really had no chance and that was the worst part. It
reminds me of the time I was chased by the mad dog. It is getting dark
out, something is hunting you and there is no one to help. I tell you
true - it's scary as hell and that is an understatement if I ever said
one.
Where was I? Oh yeah. While we were out there in the lava beds I
got a sore throat. Since there weren't any facilities to take care of
any illness, they sent me to Waikapu station hospital. I had
tonsillitis. They kept me a week until my tonsils healed and then they
cut them out. I didn't like the pain very much, but it meant I got to
stay in the hospital another two weeks. They didn't dare send me back
to the unit for fear of me getting an infection. So, we sat around and
played poker and ogled the nurses. We ate pretty good too. The nurse
that was in charge of our ward was from Ohio. Her name was Virginia
Bostock and I fell in love with her, as did everyone else in the ward.
She was nice to everyone, but it seemed like she had time for me only.
I'm sure everybody felt the same way. It's always surprised me that I
could remember her name and not the Doctor or any of the guys at the
hospital.
After my vacation in the hospital, I went back to the lava beds. I
was there about a week, when all of a sudden I get a three day pass.
Well, I have just explained what it was like there, so where the hell
was I going to go? Also remember that even though I had graduated from
the CCC to the Army, I still only got $30.00 a month. I did have a few
bucks from my poker winnings, so I went to Waibibu, which was a kind of
hang out for the troops. I stood around on a street corner for a day
trying to make out. No luck. I went down to an old hotel called the
Maui Grand. It was one of these old places that we have seen in the
movies where all the better class people meet. Dark polished teak wood
floors. So dark, they almost needed to turn the lights on at noon.
Just a great place. I went into the bar and ordered a rum and coke. I
chugged that and had another and another and another. After the 5th or
6th another, I don't remember anything until I felt this terrible pain
in my side. I laid there hanging onto the grass to keep from falling
off the world and I heard this voice telling me to get my ass off the
lawn and come with him. I finally focus my eyes and saw this great big
M.P. looking down at me. He reached down and grabbed me, jerked me
upright and I threw up all over him. This, needless to say didn't make
him too happy. He started slapping my face, and I heard this voice
saying, "You stop that you beast." I don't know who was more surprised,
me or the M.P. He started giving her a hard time and she said she was
with the Red Cross and knows his commanding officer and if he doesn't
let me go, she will get his stripes. He evidently believed her and
turned me loose. She took me across the lawn to what I found out was a
Red Cross Recreation Center. The place where she had taken me away from
the M.P. was in the middle of a Croquet Court that all the island
biggies used. Whew!!!
She took me, clothes and all and put me in a shower and turned it
on cold. As sick as I was, that shower was the worst thing that ever
happened to me. She and another girl put me on a truck going back to
the lava beds. I spent a lot of time in the lava beds!!
BACK TO 1941 (15 years old)
I gotta regress here. I was putting in one of those closet
organizers today and began thinking about nothing and everything and an
incident in my life came to me in big flash. I hope I'm not around so
you can ask me why.
One time I borrowed a friend's car. A 1936 Ford sedan. I was
driving through Sparks, Nevada, down "B" Street about 10 o'clock at
night. Kind of like dragging main. You know what that means? Well,
your parents can tell you, if you don't. Anyway, I turned around and
started back the other way. All of a sudden the red lights start to
flash behind me. I pulled over and stopped. The local Sparks cop (they
only had one on at night back then) walked up and asked for my license.
I gave it to him. He looked at it a while and finally said it wasn't a
very good one. I forgot who I bought it from. Then he says, "You made
a "U" turn back there, going thirty miles an hour." I said, "Your full
of shit. If this car had made a "U" turn going thirty miles an hour, we
would still be turning over and over." He says, "A smart ass, huh? You
are under arrest." He let my buddy go and he drove off in the car. The
cop takes me over to the Sparks jail, books me and throws me in a cell.
I asked how long he was going to keep me. He says, "Until the Judge
gets here Monday morning." This is Friday night. Oh boy!! Ain't that
swell. Some guy in the next cell is yelling. I couldn't tell what.
The guy in the other cell was throwing up. They had three cells. This
rumpus went on all night. I still had my cigarettes, but no matches. I
spent all night trying to get alight. Saturday morning came and I was
absolutely starving to death. About eight o'clock, here comes some old
woman pushing one of those little carts like you see in the hotels they
use for room service. She stops and says, "Well, good morning there
young fella. What'll you have for breakfast?" I said, "Anything you
got." She whips out this one pound bread pan. It has got cabbage and
scrambled eggs and corn meal mush. All mixed together and floating
around in luke warm water. I ate most of it. That was Saturday
morning, I had the exact same thing for every meal I ate. Including
Sunday.
By Monday, I was ready to leave. At nine on Monday morning, I am
allowed to call home. At ten, my brother Bryson shows up just as I am
being arraigned before the judge. The judge says, "How do you plead?" I
said not guilty. The judge says we will bind you over for trial. The
bail will be $200.00. My brother says, "Judge, he is only 15." The
judge says, "You're kidding." Bryson says, "No, I'm not." The Judge
says, "Take him home before I lose my temper." End of adventure, except
for my usual whipping from dad for screwing up. I really wasn't going
30 miles an hour and that is what hurts.
1942 CONTINUED (16 years old)
Where was I? Oh yeah. Back to the lava beds. When I got back to
camp, the 1st Sargent called me in and said, "Miller, you are being
transferred to Schofield Barracks on Oahu." I figured it sure can't be
any worse than this. So, in a couple of days I shipped out to what I
thought was going to be a better life. Ho! Ho! Ho! I should have had
some inclination of things to come by the way they sent me to Oahu. It
was a thirty foot picket boat. A picket boat is a boat they use to
carry mail, check anchorage and carry unwilling passengers. Me for one.
I can't remember how far it is from Maui to Oahu, but it took us two
days, with a couple of stops. Remember what I said about seasick? This
was ten times worse.
Minus most of my stomach and all the food I had eaten in the last
week, we arrived at Pearl Harbor. An overnight in the back of a truck
brought us to Schofield Barracks. An institution in the books of
military history. After another two days of screwing around, I was
assigned to the 7th Infantry regiment of the 25th Infantry Division.
Quite a famous and honorable organization. Of course I knew about the
unit and was very proud to be assigned to it. I ended up in
Headquarters Company, 1st Battalion in the Anti-tank platoon. Quite a
mouthful huh? Most of the unit stayed in regimental quadrangles. Four,
four story buildings facing each other. They were fully self contained
with kitchen and mess halls, medical facilities and all the supplies
needed for five thousand men. There were actually 1,200 men in a
battalion, four battalions to the regiment, but the support groups
brought it up to over 5,000. Of course there wasn't any room for me or
the other guys coming in, so we were assigned to tents out in the guava
bushes. We spent a lot of time in the guava bushes. We all started on
immediate intensive training in preparation to go to the South Pacific.
We didn't know that then, but we all had a pretty good idea where we
were going. As I mentioned before, all of Hawaii was under Martial law.
The military in complete control. We all took turns doing guard duty in
Honolulu and the surrounding area. Everyone and everything was subject
to apprehension and questioning. By everything, I meant that vehicles
and animals, people with lights showing from uncovered windows. There
was a curfew from dusk to dawn. I have wondered how many dogs and cats
were shot because some itchy fingered soldier got scared. I don't know
if it is still there or not, but Dole pineapple Company had a big water
tower in Honolulu. There were two machine guns set up on the catwalks
going around the tower. Everybody said it was full of pineapple juice.
One night, one of guys used a hand drill and drilled a hole in the side
of it. It was juice all right. About 500 gallons worth before they got
it plugged up. The Honolulu guard duty didn't last too much longer for
me. All the guard duty was turned over to other units. The 25th
Division started amphibious training in preparation for our incursion
into the South Pacific. This period of training began in October 1942.
As I get further along in my story, there are likely to be several
misspellings of names of places, so don't say, "Boy, he must have been
an ignorant old bastard."
As I said earlier, we were in a tent city further up the hill from
Schofield near the bottom of Kolebole pass. Every morning at 5 o'clock
we walked across Kolebole pass to a place called Waianoe and Pokai bay.
We walked right up to the beach and right into personnel carrying boats
called Higgins boats. They were troop landing craft that were used all
through the war. The procedure was to get on the boats, move out into
the bay and go around in circles all god damn day. You have never, ever
seen so many sick GI's in your life. Just before sundown the boats
headed for the beach. We unloaded and walked back to camp in the dark.
You may ask. What if they had to go to the toilet? Well if they did,
they passed around a tin bucket. You went in that and then emptied it
in the bay. Don't ask about eating. We all had food, but everyone was
too sick to eat.
After about 3 weeks of that, we arrived one morning to find two big
ships anchored in the harbor. These ships had rope cargo nets hanging
over their sides. We were to spend the next two weeks learning to go up
and down cargo nets without getting hurt. It wasn't too bad when the
ships were anchored in a sheltered bay, but we learned later on,
disembarking from a ship wallowing in a tropical storm was a different
thing to contend with. The ship heaved and the landing craft bobbed up
and down -- sometimes 8 or 10 feet, and all the while smashing against
the side of the ships. As you were about to let go of the net and step
into the bottom of the boat, the boat had suddenly fallen 10 feet or
risen the same way. You had to learn to judge when to let go. A lot of
guys were hurt and some were killed unloading. The one big thing they
beat into us was that you never, never, never, started down the net with
your steel helmet strap buckled. If you should happen to fall into the
water, which happened pretty often. The helmet acted like a noose and
the weight of a body falling into the water would break your neck. I
never, never, never, buckled my helmet strap. Once in a while somebody
fell between the ship and the landing craft. They were smashed to death
if the weight of all the gear didn't take them down fast enough. Even
then you had to dump all the weight before going so deep you would drown
before being able to get to the surface. Lots of fun for everyone.
In between taking amphibious training and twenty and thirty mile
hikes, we also took training in jungle warfare, night fighting,
infiltration and different methods of killing with your hands. Keep in
mind that at that time (1942) we didn't know anything about the marital
arts, except judo. No karate, kung fu, or any of Bruce Lee's
specialties. I'll get into some of these later on in my truly
spellbinding story, of which I am sure you will be truly spellbound.
Keeping in mind, of course that I am a real swell guy and a great
grandfather as I appear to be. If I don't intersperse this journal
with, what I think are bits of humor, I may convey the impression that I
had my gut tied in a knot during the whole war. That is not true. Even
with all the bad times, I enjoyed every minute of it and wouldn't trade
the experience for anything. There are a great many little tidbits that
I recall as I go along and will tell you about them as I recall them,
even though they maybe out of order in my story. Lets go on.
I'm sure you have all seen movies where the police or some military
personnel go through reaction courses, where the bad guys pop up from
behind a bush or an open window. We did the same thing while walking
down a trail. We had just seconds to aim and fire. If we didn't do it
within the time limit, we kept at it until we did. For some guys they
were long days. I was lucky I guess. I went through on the second day.
Since I finished the reaction course early and they needed someone, I
was made an Anti-tank gunman. I learned to aim, fire and maintain a 37
millimeter anti-tank gun. It was a very impressive weapon back then. I
was so proud. Remember, I was still only sixteen and it was a big, big
deal for me. I was a gunner for about a month, when we went to West
Lock in Pearl Harbor and loaded onto a ship, the same one I came from
the States on for the South Pacific. It was Thanksgiving Day, 1942.
During the war, and especially that early in the war, ships didn't just
go from point "A" to point "B". They would zig zag all over the ocean.
It was a month before we made landfall at Viti Levu, where Suva the
capital of the Fiji Islands is located. By that time, I was getting to
be a seasoned sailor. Never got sick once. There were four thousand of
us on the sip and we were part of an eight ship convoy, not counting the
navy warships that were protecting us. We were all birthed in cargo
holds. There were 1,000 guys in each hold and each hold was divided
into four decks, or compartments. 250 guys to a compartment. Bunks
were canvas stretched over a steel frame. These steel frames were
attached to steel poles that were attached to the floor and ceiling, or
deck and overhead as they say in seafaring talk. Each pole had 12
bunks. If you happened to have one of the top bunks, it was a long
climb to go to bed. If you had one of the lower bunks, someone was
always stepping on your hands or head and if your were unlucky enough to
have a seasick guy above you, well you can guess what could and often
did happen. The bunks were close enough together so that if a fairly
large guy turned over, he always bumped the guy over him and usually
made the bunk sag enough so that the man below had trouble turning over.
Also, no matter what we tried to do to get fresh air into the hold, it
always smelled like the bottom of a garbage can. I mean stink!!!
As a method of self preservation, we, or as many as could, slept on
deck. This was pretty nice, except that almost every night we would hit
a tropical rain squall and everybody headed below -- all at once. Most
of us finally just gave up and laid out in the rain or under a life
boat, which was one of the choicest places to bed down. You know, you
would think that out in the middle of the ocean there wouldn't be much
dirt, but after a night on deck we looked like coal miners. We only had
salt water showers and they never seemed to get us clean. Fresh water
was for drinking only, and it was turned on only once in the morning and
once in the evening. We were allowed to drink all we wanted and then
fill up our canteens for the in between times. Of course, we had water,
tea, and coffee at meal times. Meal time. That was a dandy. There was
a continual chow line going from 4 am to 9 pm. After I got breakfast I
played cards in one of the life boats until I was hungry and went and
got in line for lunch. The chow line ran all over the ship -- up
ladders, down ladders, down hallways, out on deck. Sometimes I got in
line to eat and found out it was a line for sick call or something else.
When I finally reached the mess hall, I grabbed a tray and they would
put whatever they had in it. There was never any fried foods and very
seldom anything roasted. It was almost always something that was
steamed or boiled. Like stew or spaghetti, etc. I carried it to a
table. The table had a little rim around it, so the tray wouldn't slide
off during rough weather. There weren't any seats, so we all stood.
You won't believe this, but during heavy seas, I have seen some guy's
tray slide away and slide back after someone had throw up in it. There
was another part of shipboard life that was really a treat. That was
going to the toilet. The toilets were just a big long trough with sea
water running through it, instead of a real flush toilet. As you
entered the head as they were called, you had to step over a door sill
about 6 inches high, so the whale head area was kind of like a pool 6"
deep. A good portion of the time, that is exactly what it was. The
toilet trough would sometimes plug up and overflow and there would be
water, puke, and crap floating all over the place, and that is the way
it stayed until it ran out into the companion way or hall way. When it
did, it always ran down a ladder or stairway and some officer would step
in it. Then it got fixed. Back to the trough. They must have been 10
or 12 feet long. That is long enough for eight guys to sit side by side
at the same time. A favorite trick was for the guy on the upstream side
to take a big wad of toilet paper, set it on fire and float it down the
trough underneath the other guys. It sure did singe a bunch of rear
ends, among other things. It always got a big laugh and often fist
fights over burned balls and loss of hair.
Our trip was rather uneventful. Every morning at sunrise and at
sunset, we were all herded below to our quarters and locked in. These
were the two most dangerous times of day for a submarine attack and they
said the reason we were locked below was to keep us out of the way of
navy personnel manning their battle stations. We docked at Suva on
Christmas day 1942. We weren't allowed ashore, because we had caught
head lice. Back then, the treatment for head lice, or any other malady,
was fast and furious. They shaved everybody's head, I mean everybody,
and dusted the whole ship with DDT. DDT is a dangerous and banned
chemical now. Back then they used it for everything. While they were
fumigating the ship they finally allowed us ashore as a group. We had a
fine walk around Suva. All the people were very happy to see us. They
had been so afraid of being taken by the Japanese, we were indeed, a
welcome sight. One of the things that fascinated us was the Fiji
police. They wore red jumpers like the Canadian Mounties, blue stagged
shirts and no shoes and they had great big afros. We called then fuzzy
wuzzies. Real nice guys. Always smiling, which showed off their half
filed teeth. It was their religion we were told. They used to be
cannibals. We would stand on the ship and throw lighted cigarettes onto
the wooden dock just to see them put them out with their feet. Their
feet were so calloused from a life-time of being barefoot, it didn't
bother them at all.
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