My father fought in WWII (and Korea, and Vietnam, but that’s another story…) As a young Marine fresh from boot camp, his first introduction to the Japanese occurred off the coast of Okinawa.
Lacking a mutual friend to perform the formal introduction, a Kamikaze pilot took it upon himself to do the honors unassisted.
My dad’s job was column operator, clearing spent drum magazines from one of the 20 mm anti-aircraft guns at the base of the #3 turret of the Maryland. It’s very mechanical work, the moment the last round is chambered pull the drum and discard, clearing the way the loader to instantly put on a new one, wait for that one to empty, remove it and repeat. It is not exactly quiet work but it requires rather zen-like focus and concentration. He saw the Nate bomber as it flew down the line of battleships then turned and made its way directly towards him. He saw the tracers from the ship’s guns focus in on it. While keeping is actions focused on caring for the gun, he had what seemed like weeks to contemplate the incoming Kamikaze plane with the 550 lb bomb strapped to its belly. He couldn’t look but he was peripherally aware of that bomb laden plane growing larger and larger, closer and closer.
Then it flashed bare feet over his head and struck the top of the #3 turret. (A few feet lower and I really would be null and void)…
The explosion polished the antiaircraft gun crews off of the top of that main gun, instantly killing all the sailors manning those crews, but one. (The survivor managed to get down the ladder and collapse on the deck near my dad. His badly mangled leg had to be removed later that evening) Rivets popped loose and ricocheted inside the turret injuring the men inside. A tire from the Kamikaze bounced down and hit one of the men manning his gun crew, knocking him out cold.
The net results were grim. He recalls the Bosun hanging from a bosun’s chair and having to use his Kabar to cut out the remains of his close friend, the Bosun’s Mate, from between the main mast louvers. He recalls the remains of multiple casualties outside the entrance to the mess hall, covered with tarps prior to proper burial at sea . He recalls, as he so eloquently put it “being puckered for days”. He earned his combat star that evening, before he became a PFC.
He learned a lot more about the Japanese on the beach at Okinawa. (In one of life’s little ironies, he would one day be stationed at NAS Atsugi, the very base that this Nate had departed on his way to greet the Americans)
Today he holds no animosity towards the Japanese, indeed, he rather likes and even respects them.
They really are the Greatest Generation.
(I just read this to him, with typical understatement he said, “That was a scary night”...)
Please hug your Dad for me!!!
And thank him for his service!!
Promise?!