Just a little bit about Veteran's Day

[Toki Bloodaxe]

    It seems like I remeber more of my Dad on this day than I do on his birthday. But, here's something that I wrote.


         It's Veteran's Day and I thought that I would write just a bit about what this day has always meant to me. I have a lot of relatives who have served, and they run the gamut from men in the First World War until the present. There were others before, of course, in the American Civil War. And, even, strangely enough, in the Indian Wars....on the Indian's side! But, I don't really know enough about them to write about it all. What I really know about is my father's service in World War II.
     My Dad served in the 24th Division in the Pacific theatre of operations. He took part in the invasion of the Philippines and the Occupation Army of Japan, after the war was over. Now, we get an idea of the times by watching all of the movies of that era and thinking that the nation was one unified fighting force against the terrors of the Axis. This was the generation that had Pearl Harbor, after all. And, men and women lined up in droves to serve their country when the need arose. But, my dad was drafted. It always sounded to me like he didn't want to go. He and thousands of other young men lined up down in San Antonio, Texas to await induction into the process that would make them service members. My Dad told me that he and his friends tried everything they could to get into the Coast Guard so that they wouldn't have to serve overseas and leave their families. But, alas, it was not to be.
     Along the long line of young men lined up outside the induction center, a draft warden walked and tapped all of the men on their left shoulders and called out as he walked along and counted- "Army..Army...Army...Army...Navy...Marines,,,,Army,,,Army,,,Army...Army...Navy...Marines...Coast Guard...Army...Army. ." ect.  That's how it was done...the "long count" as he called it. All your desires to serve in whatever branch you wanted were suborned to the needs of the service. You went where they told you and that was it.
     After basic training, where my Dad befriended a few other Indian boys like himself, they were all sent to the Pacific in 1944 to retake the Philippines, after those islands had essentially been abandoned by the U. S. Forces some months after Pearl Harbor. (See Bataan Death March, Fall of Corregidor, ..ect for more on this) The 24th Division was the spearhead division that was to land at Leyte Gulf and fight their way along the various islands of the Philippine chain until the Japanese were defeated, The Japanese navy had already been defeated in the climactic battle of the Philippine sea, but the Japanese imperial army had been in the islands since 1942 and held on with a death grip. The fighting would not be easy. Dad spent months living and fighting in the jungles. They stayed at the front until they died, were wounded or won. There was no rotation back. There just wasn't enough men to spare. Everyone had to fight. They fought even when their clothes rotted off of their bodies, when their boots fell apart and all of their equipment rusted and seized up. They kept fighting. Somehow through all of this my father was wounded and received the Purple Heart, led a counterattack across a river and was awarded the Bronze Star, suffered from shrapnel wounds, was bitten twice by a black widow spider, saved a Captain's life, engaged in counter sniper activities because he was such a good shot and was first scout in his platoon and learned to despise his commanding officer. He was nineteen years old.
     I won't burden you with a bunch of war stories, but one incident sticks in my mind now because it was so difficult for my Dad to talk about. The Japanese forces had dug into a series of caves on the island where my Dad was fighting. They had been there for some time and had taken Pilipino women as wives and had children even back there in their cave homes. The Japanese were not going to give up those caves easily. It was apparent to everyone involved that taking those caves was going to be a very deadly business. One man in my Father's platoon, A huge Swede guy from Wisconsin, threw down his rifle and refused to go into the caves. After much futile persuasion, my Dad, as squad sergeant, had to order two other soldiers to take the Swede's equipment and bind his hands and send him back to Company headquarters under guard. Everyone else in the platoon dropped their rifles and gathered up their bayonets, entrenchment tools and pistols and crawled in to the caves. It was hell. The soldiers had to crawl about with only the lights from their Zippos and kill the enemy where they found them hiding far back in the dark. About this incident, my father told me that a person doesn't really know how bad it can get until they have to kill someone up close with a knife, or a shovel...or a rock...(his words). I shiver now to think about it. When I was nineteen, I was trying to drink all of the beer that I could and get my hands on as many girls as possible. I didn't really have any idea at all how bad it could get.
     My Dad got his staff sergeant's stripes after the fighting was done in the Philippines. He wasn't, however, rotated home like the rest. General MacArthur was the newly appointed Military Governor of Japan. And, since the 24th Division was MacArthur's spearhead division, they became part of the Army of Occupation of Japan. My Father was given a new duty. He was asked by his commanding officer what job he had held before the service. "None", my Dad said. He was drafted right out of high school. "Yous musta dun sumthin' befwah, Annersun'. Whah wuz it?", brayed the despised officer in his obnoxious Bronx squawk. My Dad told him that for some summers he had worked as an usher in a movie theatre. That was back when they had ushers in movie theatres. (Imagine that!) "Whal, smawt guy, yous gets to be a M.P. now!" And, then, Lt. Donkey D**k, as my Father always fondly remembered him, handed my Dad a white helmet, a flashlight and a Thompson sub-machinegun and told him to take off on patrol. The Army put you where it needed you, even after the war. My dad got to patrol all over parts of Japan, the atomic -bombed sites of Hiroshima, the streets of Tokyo, and he even got to climb Mt. Suribachi and leave a few beer cans up on top. Later, when they didn't need M.P.'s anymore, my Father had to work as a cook and a clerk...anything to fill out his enlistment. Sometime in 1947, My dad finally got home. His letters to my Grandmother through all of this time contained requests to his younger sister to buy any new music record she could find, questions concerning his older sister and was she still dating that sailor,,,airman...Marine...ect., requests for my grandmother to send him another camera to take more pictures of Japan with, and even more questions for his father about the state of his garden. I guess that my Dad wanted to talk about anything besides the war. In some letters, though, he does mention having nightmares every night, having bad episodes of "the shakes" and missing a lot of his friends who were killed. We still have his letters and pictures from the war. What a treasure trove they are!
     Now, I write all of this to you folks not to play History teacher, but to give you a small slice of what life was like for one soldier back in those times. And, lest we neglect the fact that so many veterans have served during peacetime, I wanted to talk a bit about my Father still having to serve after the war was over, when so many soldiers were going home and he was still stuck in Japan. The World War II generation has been called the Greatest Generation by a lot of writers. And, they certainly were great. But, I would like to give a nod to those who spent the long winter at Valley Forge with Washington when things seemed so bleak, or the men who held fast at Little Round Top at Gettysburg, when it looked like the end was near for the Union. The former group was seeking to build a new country. The latter were seeking to preserve their delicate nation. But, my Dad's generation was seeking to preserve their very way of life in the face of Axis terror. If they weren't the "Greatest Generation", then they were pretty dang good. That's just my opinion.



For Noble Monroe Anderson Jr. Staff Sergeant, 24th Division.
Purple Heart, Bronze Star, Distinguished Service Medal, Combat Infantry Badge.
July 7th, 1926- March 12th, 2005.
Rest in Peace, Daddy.

[LadyFireKissed]

Thank you so very much for this story.  I have  abrother in Alaska right now in the AirForce.  I could not be more proud of all or brave men and women,  even if they are still really girls and boys, past present and future.  In all branches.  I just wish that many who do not would get the respect and honor that they deserve.

[Norfolk]

WELL SAID, Sir Toki,well said indeed!