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September 1941
I left Guam on the 6th September, 1941, bound for Shanghai. I went aboard the USS Henderson at about three o’clock in the afternoon of a typically beautiful but hot tropical day and we sailed two hours later. The ship was completely loaded with sailors and marines, 1800 in all, bound for duty in the Philippines, with a few going to China, as I was. And I feel sure not one of them had any more idea of the proximity of the outbreak of hostilities with Japan: in fact, the general feeling was that Japan would never do anything so foolish.
In spite of our feeling of confidence as to the future of our duty in the Far East, we had accompanying us as escort the light cruiser USS Detroit. Both ships wore battle dress - the dingy gray-blue you are probably familiar with - and at scheduled times an observation plane was sent up from the cruiser and far in advance of our course, We, naive servicemen that we were, and used to training features of that nature, read nothing ominous as the meaning of such maneuvers. I think it was mostly a case of refusing to believe the signs, because, as I look back on certain happenings, to mention one, high flying planes over Guam - so high they could not be identified - during the day and, on two occasions, low-flying planes during the evening, when we blacked out the area where the marine barracks are located, we would have been fully justified to interpret the incidents at their true worth. Of course, I am speaking from the standpoint of an enlisted man; I have no doubt but that my commanding officer was fully informed of the possibilities.
Nevertheless, we sighted the islands of the Philippines without incident and proceeded through the San Bernadine Straits, a beautiful stretch of water, dotted all along the way with numerous small islands draped in Irish green foliage; and one of the strange sights of our passage through this area was of the tremendous fruit bats (called by the natives of Guam: feeneehees - phonetic spelling) which flew out over the ship at dusk and back over the land again, These beasts have a wingspread of up to three feet, with a tiny head not unlike that of a dog or fox and, in their mouths two rows of very even and shiny teeth, but without any canine incisors, as you might expect to find in the mouth of such an animal. These bats live almost entirely on fruit, with an insect here and there for variety and are popularly know as flying foxes in Guam, among the Americans, at least.
When we had traveled within 200 miles of Manila, our immediate destination, our skipper received orders to proceed to the south to Zamboanga and Tutu Bay, where the Asiatic Fleet was dispersed, and discharge the draft of sailors destined for duty in that area, at the same time picking up for return to Manila those whose tours of duty were completed. It was a three-day journey down to Tutu Bay, the most southerly point, and within 125 miles of Borneo, where I was brought face to face with the most primitive people and the most remote country I have ever seen. These people had just barely been touched by civilization and lived in grass and palm-thatched huts on stilts perched out over the water. They seldom ever set foot ashore but spent most of their waking hours in their dugout canoes, which they handled with amazing skill, searching for the food of the sea, which probably was no great chore, as the area seemed to abound in fish of a number of edible varieties.
We amused ourselves on shipboard - since we were not allowed to go ashore in the area - by tossing coins into the water for the natives to dive after, as is the custom in most tropical waters. One very old couple (they looked as if the must have been a hundred; all shriveled and lean) couldn’t resist the urge for easy money and both finally went over the side of their canoe, leaving it adrift. Since the tide at the time was pretty strong, we had some anxious moments, worrying about their ability to catch it before it had gone too far. We might as well have saved our sympathy; those people are like fish and one wonders if they were born in the water. Learning to swim, possibly, before they could walk.
We had arrived in Tutu Bay in the early morning and the entire fleet, such as it was, with the exception of the submarine squadron, which we had just left at Zamboanga, was dispersed there before our eyes as we steamed into the area. Because of the nature of its duty, practically only a token force and for patrol work in the Far East, its size was out to the barest essential ships, so, actually, it wasn’t much of a force. Nevertheless, it was impressive in that primitive wilderness and securely hidden from the course of normal ship operation.
Since our journey into that area was largely of an emergency nature, our stay was limited to the necessity of our visit, As soon as we had discharged and taken aboard the drafts of sailors in the area who had been sent there to join the fleet or to leave for Manila, their duty there having been completed, we upped-anchor and began the voyage to Manila. As on the trip down, we hugged the islands, using the inland waterways and arrived about two and a half days later in the harbor of the ‘Pearl of the Orient’, Manila.
It was in that then beautiful city that the trip of myself add eight others who had come aboard with me in Guam and with orders to Shanghai for duty was almost terminated. Colonel Clement, Marine side to the commander-in-chief of the Asiatic Fleet came aboard a very short time after we dropped anchor in Manila Bay, or, I should say after we docked, for the express purpose, among other things, to persuade us to forfeit our privilege of going on to China and to join the command at the navy yard in Cavite, which was in the process of being strongly reinforced. This, none of us was willing to do, and, after much argument on my part, setting forth our views of the situation, we finally were notified two hours before the ship departed that we might continue on to Shanghai. (Little did any of us realize how very soon we should be leaving that amazing city, though we did get there finally). You can imagine our delight at the news, because all of us might have gone back to the States from Guam, had we chosen to; and the only reason we did not was that we saw no good reason for coming so far toward the Orient without seeing China. And that was my original purpose in going to Guam at all. (Oh, the irony of fate! That I had come so close to missing the misery of forty months in the hands of the Japs. On the other hand, I might be fertilizing some rice paddy in Guadalcanel.)
During the almost three days that we were docked in Manila, I was permitted to go ashore almost at will and so had an opportunity to see it at its busy best. It was teeming with activity and the very busyness of the people made one wonder if he really was in the Orient. It was a very beautiful city, full of interesting and historical sights, the most outstanding of which probably is, or was, the old Spanish walled city, itself within the limits of the present city of Manila and only a relatively short distance from the harbor docks. I shall not attempt to describe it to you for I did not see enough of it to do it justice. There were a number of famous landmarks, relics of the days of Spanish rule and of the insurrection, but generally the city was thoroughly modern in practically every respect - now it is in ruins and in the midst of the turmoil of reconstruction and political reformation. On the third day of our stay in Manila, in the afternoon, we cast loose from the dock and steamed out into the Bay, bound for Chingwantao, China, with only fifty troops, besides the crew, aboard. It was the most vacant transport I ever saw or ever expect to see. Imagine, a ship big enough to carry eighteen hundred troops and having only fifty aboard ! Our voyage north was uneventful except for daily gun drill by the crew on the 5-inch anti-aircraft batteries at balloon (free) targets and the sighting of a small school of blackfish off the east coast of Formosa. This fish, I believe, is really a small whale, but its antics reminded one of porpoise. However, it did blow a spume of vapor, as a whale does, which we could plainly see, though we came no closer than a mile and a half or two miles to them. Incidentally, the east coast of Formosa, because of its raggedness, is almost barren of any habitations, with high mountains rising several thousand feet almost out of the sea, but it is very beautiful for that reason. It is the west side of the island that is densely populated and was then heavily fortified and equipped with strong bases for the Japanese navy as well as for their aircraft. That side, or the “Inner Passage”, as it is commonly known, was then barred to ship traffic, though we later had an interesting experience upon our evacuation of Shanghai, which I shall tell you about then. About two days out of Manila, we stowed our khaki and donned our green uniforms, as it was then toward the end of September and we were in much cooler waters. And on, I think, the morning of the fifth or sixth day we came in sight of the coaling station of Chingwantao; and that is all it is. It is some of the most barren country I have ever seen, excepting some areas of our own West, chiefly Nevada. The town itself is located about a mile and a half from the docks where we tied up, and, since we were going to stay there only long enough to take onboard a detachment of Marines who were bound for Cavite duty, I made no effort to go ashore. The Japanese were in complete charge of the area then and our skipper was as anxious as the rest of us to shove off from such an uninviting spot. However, a few of the Marines went into the town for a couple of beers and, since they had to walk it there and back, upon their return they were not very enthusiastic over the result of their effort. They, too, were glad to be leaving for Shanghai, a much more glamorous spot.
So we pulled up the “hook”, as the sailors call the anchor, and steamed out of the harbor, finally bound directly for Shanghai, On the morning of the 28th September, after twenty-two days aboard ship, we were proceeding up the Yangtze with the skyline of the oriental metropolis in the distance. Within an hour we were anchored off the Bund, and preparing to go ashore. In the meantime many little sampans (Chinese, stern-propelled (by oar, that is) small boats), or water taxis were swarming out to greet us and looking for customers to take ashore. Among them, too, were other sampans with a different missions; they were after the garbage being thrown over the side of the ship. This they scooped up with a net on the end of a long pole, wrung the water out of it and threw it into a five-gallon oil can; to be taken home, cooked again for sanitary reasons, and used for food for themselves. Other Chinese, this time merchants, had by now received permission to come aboard the ship, as is the custom if they are known by the captain, and were busy displaying their wares on the after well deck. You can be sure they had plenty of customers, as nowhere else in the world, hardly, can one buy so much for so little. Mostly, what the sailors were interested in were Russian-type boots, but there was much bric-a-brac, intricately carved brass, teakwood, ebony, mahogany, silk embroidery and other items.
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October 1941
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