Class Note 1943
Issue
January-February 2021
It was the year 1945. World War II officially ended on the deck of the USS Missouri, where the peace treaty was signed on Sunday, September 2, in Tokyo Bay. I was one of thousands of U.S. troops on the island of Mindanao in the southern Philippines. All the G.I.s were so happy. We were heading for home and we were on the winning side! “Little Boy” and “Fat Man” did the trick! Those two bombs forced Japan’s surrender—what a huge relief. No more fears, nightmares, and worrying about D-Day Japan, rumored to be October 1, 1945. That was the target date for our 8th Army, under Lt. Gen. Robert Eichelberger, to land on the beaches 50 miles north of Tokyo. (The landing ship tanks that were supposed to take us on that perilous two-week voyage to the shores of Japan instead performed a herculean humanitarian effort: They transported the thousands of Japanese soldiers and civilians back to their homeland. According to reports, the food was “excellent.”)
Then it happened. One morning after breakfast I didn’t feel well. I went to a nearby combat engineers’ sick call and the medic on duty said, “Hey, Sarge, you’ve got a 103.8 temperature. You’ve got to go to the division hospital in Davao.” I was admitted into the 24th Division Hospital. Three days later a major said, “George, we’ve been treating you for malaria, which you’ve had before. But you don’t have malaria, you have infectious hepatitis. You’re too sick for us to handle. Tomorrow morning we’re sending you by hospital plane to a big Army general hospital on Leyte” about 500 miles away. There were six stretchers being loaded, and as mine was being moved onto the converted C-47, I heard an airman’s voice ring out: “Hey, who’s the V.I.P. prisoner of war? That’s a first for this plane.” A buddy of mine hollered out: “That’s no POW, that’s George Shimizu. He’s a sergeant in the U.S. Army. He’s one of us. He’s one of the good guys!” Several hours later we landed at Tacloban Airport on Leyte. Ambulances took us to a huge Army hospital and I was immediately admitted into the intensive care unit. I wondered, Am I going to make it? I didn’t want to die on this lonely island in the Philippines, so far from home. I was in the ICU for three and a half months. After two months I was feeling better, but the doctors would not release me, saying, “Not yet, George, not yet.” More later.
—George Shimizu, 2140 Sepulveda Ave., Milpitas, CA 95035-6142; (408) 930-2488; marymariko@comcast.net
Then it happened. One morning after breakfast I didn’t feel well. I went to a nearby combat engineers’ sick call and the medic on duty said, “Hey, Sarge, you’ve got a 103.8 temperature. You’ve got to go to the division hospital in Davao.” I was admitted into the 24th Division Hospital. Three days later a major said, “George, we’ve been treating you for malaria, which you’ve had before. But you don’t have malaria, you have infectious hepatitis. You’re too sick for us to handle. Tomorrow morning we’re sending you by hospital plane to a big Army general hospital on Leyte” about 500 miles away. There were six stretchers being loaded, and as mine was being moved onto the converted C-47, I heard an airman’s voice ring out: “Hey, who’s the V.I.P. prisoner of war? That’s a first for this plane.” A buddy of mine hollered out: “That’s no POW, that’s George Shimizu. He’s a sergeant in the U.S. Army. He’s one of us. He’s one of the good guys!” Several hours later we landed at Tacloban Airport on Leyte. Ambulances took us to a huge Army hospital and I was immediately admitted into the intensive care unit. I wondered, Am I going to make it? I didn’t want to die on this lonely island in the Philippines, so far from home. I was in the ICU for three and a half months. After two months I was feeling better, but the doctors would not release me, saying, “Not yet, George, not yet.” More later.
—George Shimizu, 2140 Sepulveda Ave., Milpitas, CA 95035-6142; (408) 930-2488; marymariko@comcast.net