The Laughing Wolf: Memorial Day 2004

May 30, 2004

Memorial Day 2004

Today is the official day of memory, the day when we memorialize all those who fought to keep America free and safe, most especially those who died. We give ourselves the holiday tomorrow, but today is the day.

What I would like to do for this special day is tell part of the tale of eight brothers, of four in particular. Of the older four brothers, I know that my Uncle Sam fought in the First World War. Yes, I did have a real life Uncle Sam, a wonderful man who was good to me and may well have been the brightest of the eight. My Dad felt he was, and looked up to him, and I will not debate his wisdom this day. I believe Uncle Sam may have flown in that conflict, and I know that he walked away from aviation. That may or may not have something to do with being able to walk away from an event or events, but I am not sure. I think some of the remaining three older brothers may have served in the military, but again I am not sure.

I do know the youngest four served in WWII, and I know none of them lived to see the memorial dedicated.

My Uncle James was in the Army, and Dad occasionally teased him about being a supply sergeant (not his real rank). Dad and his older brother had a bit of competition and something I don’t know how to describe. They loved each other and stood up for each other, but there was a bit of rivalry there as well. Again, I don’t know as much about his service as I really should, especially given that James was one of the rare breed of Army types that served in the Pacific. He got needed supplies to the forward units, going forward to do so. I do know that he had one ship shot out from under him, and that he spent many days in the water. It was there that he picked up an algae that got into his lungs, and was with him until the day he died. That infection probably didn’t help his heart any, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

James narrowly missed having a second ship shot out from under him, when a kamikaze attack came in at the fleet. This was towards the end of the war, and Dad was on another ship nearby. After the battle, Dad asked James if he had seen the plane that was headed for his ship. Indeed he had, and James told Dad he had done his best to dig a foxhole in the deck, up until someone had shot the plane out of the sky. Dad just looked at him and said “You’re Welcome.” You see, my Dad was bodyguard and orderly to Admiral Spruance, and his battle station was often a quad 50 on top of one of the 16-inch gun turrets on the New Jersey. Dad had indeed seen the plane going at the supply ship his brother was on, and shot it out of the sky. Dad could pick on James, and James on Dad, but heavens help anyone else who ever tried.

My Uncle John was in the Pacific as well, but he was Army Air Corp. He was flying bombers, big bombers, and took part in many a raid on Japan. For those with knowledge of history, he flew of Tinian in the latter stages of the war, and was present when the atomic bombs came through. I don’t know very much about him at all, and have no memories of him that I can recall. He lived away from the rest of the family after the war, and he had a tendency to drink. How much the war did or did not play into that I do not know, but his drinking was such that Dad did not feel it wise for me to meet him. Word was that he did well in the war, but I wish I had known more than just a very rare voice on the phone.

John and Dad spent a lot of time and effort letting the family know that Dad was alive at one point. Admiral Spruance used both the Indianapolis and the New Jersey as flagships, and when it came time to take the Hiroshima bomb out, the Admiral and the high command decided on the Indianapolis to transport it, because it was one of the fastest ships in the fleet. When this came up, Dad was home on leave in Georgia, and found himself ordered to get to San Francisco in two days time. He almost made it, and almost got court martialed for not making it, but that is a story for another day. In all the confusion of unloading the bomb at Tinian, the Admiral’s detail was left on the Indianopolis, and were not retrieved until the ship was clearing the harbor. Dad and his small command went over the side on cargo nets onto the Admiral’s barge – and the Indianapolis went to the bottom a few hours later.

All the family knew was that Dad was on the Indianapolis, per those amazing orders, and they did apparently think him dead. Security being what it was, Dad and John could not say things directly, but wrote a LOT of letters with the date writ large and strong emphasis on “Cliff and I had lunch today” and “John and I had supper today” so that the family would know he was alive and okay. It was not the first time something like this was necessary, since in his first hitch in the Corps Dad was the sole survivor of his unit courtesy of a naval gunnery demonstration gone awry.

Uncle Foster was the baby brother to John, Cliff, and James. Like Johh (and Sam) he went into aviation, but Naval aviation was his calling. He flew bombing and torpedo missions against Japan, and had always joked to Dad that if anything happened to him and his crew, that it would probably be the result of his bad navigation. Foster loved Chinese food and apparently was quite interested in Chinese culture. Dad one time remarked when I was quite small, that I liked Chinese food and fried rice as much as had Foster. When I asked about this, he changed the subject and got real quiet for a while, and had some suspicious something get in his eye.

Of the four, Foster was the only one who did not make it home. It was one of the last raids on Japan before Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It was a raid on a well defended port, and his plane went in. Admiral Spruance found out, and had made arrangements for Dad to go talk to Foster’s commanding officer, but movement orders changed and all Dad could do as the ships sailed apart was talk with the man on the radio. Foster made it in and he and his crew apparently put their load in on target. Then or just afterwards, however, it appeared that the plane was struck hard, and that rounds had struck and killed Foster. They suspected this because the plane went into the drink at an angle that was common with a dead pilot slumped over the controls. None of his crew made it out, and it was unknown if they were killed when the plane was riddled, or when it hit. No bodies were ever recovered.

John made it home, went into sales, and apparently did fairly well at it. James made it back and went into politics, becoming tax commissioner for the county where he grew up. He also became National Commander of the American Legion, and during the stumping for that got zinged by Sam and Dad (don’t know if any other brothers were there, but John may have been). They got tired of long winded speechifying and got up and left to go to the bar. Sometime after this, James finally turned around to introduce – a group of empty chairs. He was unamused. Dad and Sam thought it was pretty good and noted that James shortened his speeches after that. The trick James used of drinking ginger ale, sometimes with just a dab of Coke added to make it darker, and acting like it was bourbon and branch while out politicking is one I have used myself. Dad, obviously, made it home too.

A few years ago, business took me to Hawai’i and I had the chance to do some of the standard tourist stuff. I also did one thing that is not too standard, I hired a taxi and went to The Punchbowl.

At first, the guardians there were shirty about the taxi, seems I was supposed to go rent an expensive car to go there, but after I explained what I was doing, and why, they relented. We dismounted the taxi sign off the top of the car, and were allowed on in. The driver took me to a point and waited, telling me not to worry about time or meter, this was something special. I climbed the steps, and I went in and through that place. I walked until I found

this, something concrete to which I could place my hand, something more solid than the memorial plaque in the family plot. Something to which I could link my heart and spirit, so that he and his sacrifice were made real to me in a way I had never known before.

There are pictures I have of John, James, Dad, and Foster. Each with family, friends, spouses, and such. There is one of Foster with his girlfriend (fiancé?), a woman about whom I would very much like to know more, much as I would love to know more about the men in his crew and their families. For I would know the Fosters, the Chances, and all the others who have given so much for so many. The inscription at the bottom of the picture sums it all up for me

Thank you Dad, James, John, Sam, and Foster for your service. Thank you Foster and thank you Foster’s crew, for laying so costly and wonderful sacrifice on the Altar of Freedom. Thank you all who gave your all, so that I and others have the opportunity and the responsibility to live free. May we be as unstinting in our efforts and our sacrifice as you were with yours. Thank you all. I remember you this day.