Class Note 1943
Issue
March - April 2024
While in the Army, I spent four Christmases in uniform. I shared the first two in the last column and share the second two here—though the fourth Christmas was the best of all.
Christmas 1944 I was at the Allied Translators Interpreters Section just outside Brisbane, Australia. One day later, four of us sergeants were ordered to fly to the Philippines as “replacements.” Two of us joined the 8th Army, the other two went on to Luzon. The first three Christmases were easy to take. During wartime, everything is uncertain. There is no light at the end of the tunnel; no one knows what lies ahead. Rumors indicated that October 1, 1945, would be D-Day, the invasion of Japan’s homeland. No outfit could survive that. D-Day Normandy on June 6, 1944, involved 156,000 troops; in comparison, D-Day Japan involved 300,000 U.S. and Allied forces. We were winning the war in the Pacific. The future looked precarious.
That’s why my fourth Christmas in the Army will always be my favorite. Our 8th Army comprised the 24th, 41st, and 93rd divisions. Our convoy landed on Mindanao in the southern Philippines in mid-February 1945. We were the lucky ones. After two weeks of heavy fighting, the enemy soldiers disappeared into the higher mountains. A month later we went by Landing Craft Infantry to the beaches south of Davao. We began staging for the invasion of Japan. Then on August 15, 1945, Armed Forces Radio blared out, “Japan surrenders—war’s over!” There was not a dry eye in the outfit! Even the grumpiest fellows gave up a wry smile. And thanks to Little Boy and Fat Man—those two atomic bombs did it!—every one of us slept soundly. What a relief; no more worries. Then, in early September, I got sick and the 24th Division Hospital sent me by hospital plane to a huge Army General Hospital on Leyte Gulf. I was in the intensive care unit for 105 consecutive days. In December I was discharged from the hospital and returned to my old outfit. All my buddies had left for home. I went to the Replacement Depot and MS President Monroe glided into the harbor. Four thousand happy GIs boarded and that afternoon the Monroe set sail for San Francisco and home. Christmas 1945 was spent on the high seas. What a great bunch of guys.
One fellow said, “I’m a farmer. I went through basic training at Fort Ord. I was born in Idaho but plan to move to California.” Another chimed in, “I’m from Oklahoma and a really good truck mechanic. I want to work at a new car dealership. My family is looking forward to life in California.” It seems to me that California is truly the Golden State. My best buddy, Sam from Jersey, readily agreed when I said, “Let’s count our blessings!”
—George Shimizu, 2140 Sepulveda Ave., Milpitas, CA 95035; (408) 930-2488; marymariko@comcast.net
Christmas 1944 I was at the Allied Translators Interpreters Section just outside Brisbane, Australia. One day later, four of us sergeants were ordered to fly to the Philippines as “replacements.” Two of us joined the 8th Army, the other two went on to Luzon. The first three Christmases were easy to take. During wartime, everything is uncertain. There is no light at the end of the tunnel; no one knows what lies ahead. Rumors indicated that October 1, 1945, would be D-Day, the invasion of Japan’s homeland. No outfit could survive that. D-Day Normandy on June 6, 1944, involved 156,000 troops; in comparison, D-Day Japan involved 300,000 U.S. and Allied forces. We were winning the war in the Pacific. The future looked precarious.
That’s why my fourth Christmas in the Army will always be my favorite. Our 8th Army comprised the 24th, 41st, and 93rd divisions. Our convoy landed on Mindanao in the southern Philippines in mid-February 1945. We were the lucky ones. After two weeks of heavy fighting, the enemy soldiers disappeared into the higher mountains. A month later we went by Landing Craft Infantry to the beaches south of Davao. We began staging for the invasion of Japan. Then on August 15, 1945, Armed Forces Radio blared out, “Japan surrenders—war’s over!” There was not a dry eye in the outfit! Even the grumpiest fellows gave up a wry smile. And thanks to Little Boy and Fat Man—those two atomic bombs did it!—every one of us slept soundly. What a relief; no more worries. Then, in early September, I got sick and the 24th Division Hospital sent me by hospital plane to a huge Army General Hospital on Leyte Gulf. I was in the intensive care unit for 105 consecutive days. In December I was discharged from the hospital and returned to my old outfit. All my buddies had left for home. I went to the Replacement Depot and MS President Monroe glided into the harbor. Four thousand happy GIs boarded and that afternoon the Monroe set sail for San Francisco and home. Christmas 1945 was spent on the high seas. What a great bunch of guys.
One fellow said, “I’m a farmer. I went through basic training at Fort Ord. I was born in Idaho but plan to move to California.” Another chimed in, “I’m from Oklahoma and a really good truck mechanic. I want to work at a new car dealership. My family is looking forward to life in California.” It seems to me that California is truly the Golden State. My best buddy, Sam from Jersey, readily agreed when I said, “Let’s count our blessings!”
—George Shimizu, 2140 Sepulveda Ave., Milpitas, CA 95035; (408) 930-2488; marymariko@comcast.net