FP-JB-AGOM

Bill Johnson’s story from Audio Tape -- dated 10-10-00

  

          This is the story of what happened to me during WW II. I graduated from high school in 1938, and decided I’d like to join the Navy. It was almost impossible to find work as this was the tail end of the great depression and skilled workers, who were accepting anything they could get, scooped up what jobs were available. I was able to get a job washing cars at a gas station only because I knew the two young fellows who were the owners. I got a dollar for each car and split that with the station. At this time there were rumblings of a possible war because of incidents that were happening between Japan and China.  I figured there was going to be a war in the near future and decided I’d rather enlist than be drafted.  If drafted I wouldn’t have much choice in what I’d be in or what I wanted to do. 

            I stopped down at the recruiting station and they said they were filled up right then but that they would get in touch with me a little later on.  About the first of the year 1939, I received word to come down they wanted to talk to me.  I went down to the recruiting station and they said they would call me in the near future. Then in April of 1939 I went down, had my physical, was accepted, and on the 15th of the month I was sent to Great Lakes training station at the North end of Chicago.

            After graduating from Boot Camp, twenty-one of us were sent to Bremerton Washington to join the USS Houston, a Heavy Cruiser. When we got there we were still in our dress blues, even so, they immediately had us go over the side and start chipping paint.  This was the first time I was ever on a scaffold about sixty feet above the bottom with a chipping hammer in my hand, and, still in my good dress uniform.

            I worked for the rest of that day, just getting acquainted with how to use a hammer and chisel and still stay on the seat of that small Jacobs ladder.  My hands were pretty sore that night but the next day we started out early in the morning and I started chipping again.  By that evening my hands were so sore and swollen that in order to get some sleep, I had to wrap them in wet towels. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep very well that night either. This was the first introduction I had with good old Uncle Sam and the US Navy.

            After the ship was completed and repainted in dry dock we left and went on a short cruise – what they call a shake down.  In a few months we headed to Hawaii, pulled into Pearl Harbor and spent 10 months there. There is no doubt the Islands are beautiful but there are a few things that stick out in my mind. One is that I never tasted Pineapples as sweet as those were in my life. The flowers were absolutely beautiful but to me the continuous odor of those flowers was beginning to tell on me. The weather was great. However it was there that I had one of my first great disappointments in life. I had seen so many pictures of, and heard so many stories about Waikiki beach that I just had to see it for myself. So one Sunday morning after church services I went down to the beach early, looking for the splendor I knew to be right next to the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. All I could see was a very narrow stony piece of property that showed coral present when the tide was out. I stopped a fellow walking along and asked him where the famous beach was located, and his reply was, ‘”you’re standing on it ‘”.

            We returned to the states and we were told the ship was going to be sent to the Asiatic Station and that we could go on leave for a month. All personnel who wished to remain in the States would be given new assignments. When I returned from leave a few days ahead of time I didn’t feel like I wanted to  return to the ship just yet so I began to look around for some place to stay. It was hopeless, every hotel was filled up in Vallejo,-- that’ s where we were docked at the time under going another overhaul in Mare Island navy yard.  I stopped in a bar to have a drink.  Sitting there were two other sailors from the same ship with the same problem I had.  We didn’t want to go back early because we knew as soon as we signed in we would be put to work.  After a few drinks we came up with a bright idea.  The only places in town that would have rooms were where the girls worked.  We got turned down on the first two but the third madam said sure, she could help us out for a few days so she rented us a room.  They didn’t bother us and we didn’t bother them.  There are a lot of nice people in this world and you never know where you’ll find them.

            We arrived at Manila bay Nov. 14, 1940 and took over the flag of the Augusta, which was in dire need of an overhaul.  She had been on this station for seven years and it was beginning to show.  They had a dry dock at Subig Bay in Olongapo, but it wasn’t large enough to hold that large a ship so she had to return to the US to have the work done.

            I had been assigned to the quarterdeck, but I was really interested in getting into the aviation division but as all the stations were filled there wasn’t much of a chance.  So in Oct of 1941 I put in for a transfer and was sent to Cavite Naval Yard to go to the communications school there.  I graduated from school about the 1st of Dec and was waiting for the Houston to come back when they bombed Pearl Harbor  on the 7th and Cavite  on the 10th.  I was used as a stretcher-bearer during the carnage.  It was my job to carry the badly wounded from out in the compound back to the doctors and surgeons so they could do their thing in a small enclosure in the yard.  This enclosure was primarily built by the Spanish and used as a jail or prison.  It was approximately forty feet long and about twenty feet wide.  It had thick concrete walls and the roof was rounded off making it look somewhat like an airplane hanger.  There were still iron rings on the walls used for holding prisoners.  After each bomb run there would be a lull in which we would run out with a handful of rubber tourniquets that we would throw to people close to the walls and then pick up the wounded and run back to the operating station before another bombing run started.  The medical personnel were working as fast as they could removing arms, legs, or whatever they had to do  in as short a time as possible.  There wasn’t time to use an anesthetic, as there were about four stretchers coming and going all the time.  I began to get sick from the smell of blood, it was everywhere and decided to stand outside, bombing or not.  A little scratch or cut does not bleed enough to cause a scent but when there is a large amount like there was in there the smell becomes intolerable.  It’s a sweet sickish odor that you’ll never forget

The Yard was completely destroyed and burnt to the ground.  Afterwards a couple of fellows and I decided to take a walk and see what damage had been done.  The first thing I came upon was a shell crater with a hand that had been blown off at the wrist with the palm facing up.  While walking around the track that surrounds the parade field, we came upon four buddies that must have been watching the bombers flying overhead.  When the shrapnel burst came it had caught all four walking side by side.  When we found them they were still in the same position but now on their backs and peppered with holes through their chest and stomach.  There weren’t to many bodies lying around by then because a truck pulling a stone bolt was going around the track picking up the bodies of the unfortunates.  As we followed behind the truck, we saw that the stone bolt was piled deep with the dead, at least we thought they were all dead when suddenly we heard a weak voice say, “Hey Mac, pick up my foot will ya “ and that’s when we noticed that a foot with a shoe on it was dragging along behind the stone bolt, held only by a tendon attached to the leg.  This movement along the rough ground caused the shoe to jump and wobble as the wooden structure followed behind the truck.  Of course we obliged the poor owner.  Sometimes I just stop and wonder whatever happens to these men.

It was a week later before I finally got over to Manila and checked in and was assigned to the Canopus, a submarine tender.  When Manila was declared an open city on Dec.25th we backed out and beached over near Marivales across from Corregidor.  The communication division of the Canopus was transferred to Australia by submarine and I was then sent to Corregidor for a new assignment. 

            As I did not have any specific assignment on Corregidor, I was eventually able to join Bulkleys Torpedo Boat Squadron 3, which left in March to take MacArthur to the Island of Mindanao.  There, the General was able to get a B-17 to Australia.  Just before the outbreak of the War, while I was still in school I heard that Bill Konko, who had gone through Boot camp with me, was a member of Buckley’s Squadron. I got in touch with him and through this acquaintance became friendly with several members.  I even was able to go on maneuvers once in awhile.  When I was sent to Corregidor from the Canopus I threw my sea bag into a corner of the tunnel and went on a short leave of my own making, to visit a marine friend stationed up on Middle side.  While visiting we went through a Jap bombing run and when it was over I kiddingly told him that this was the last time he was going to see me again and I went back down to Malinta tunnel.  On the way I saw a Torpedo boat tied up just below the tunnel entrance.  I asked the skipper if there was any chance I could join the squadron as I had just been transferred to the rock and had not received an assignment yet.  He called Buckley on the radio and was told it was okay as long as I was free.  I went up to the tunnel and grabbed my sea bag and returned down to the boat.  When I got there, there were two Shore Patrol officers standing near by.  They asked me if my name was Johnson and when I said yes they told me I was under arrest for AWOL.  I said I can’t be because I’ve been assigned to the squadron, I never hesitated, I tossed my bag up on the deck of the boat and climbed aboard.  Boy, that was close.  In March the Squadron took MacArthur and other notables from corregedore to Mindanao. 

About a week or so later the 35 boat, to which I was now assigned, and the 41 boat were told to go to Dumaguete on the Island of Negros to pick up the Philippines President Quezon.  When we got there it was early evening – it was getting dark – the 41 boat which was ahead of us, made a quick turn to the left and we got caught in her wake and was thrown into some fish stakes,-- stacks placed in the water to catch fish -- opening a large hole in our bow.  We were able to limp into the port of Dumaguete, but we were unable to use the boat from then on.  We waited and waited for them to get the president and finally around eleven thirty that night an escort brought he and his entourage down to the dock.  Now we, the whole crew of the thirty five boat and all of Quezon’s click, transferred on to the 41 boat. With all this extra weight added there wasn’t much free way left above the waterline, so we knew that it would be tough going.  We had to make it back before it became daylight so a Betty or Zero wouldn’t pick us up and strafe us.  With this many on board we had to go slow and we didn’t reach Mindanao until about 8:30 in the morning.  We were just lucky that neither one of them on a patrol had come by and spotted us.  We pulled into the little port of Bugo, and unloaded our cargo.  The 35 boat had been left behind to be destroyed.  I understand that Quezon was sent to Australia from Del Monte.  Hearsay has it that he didn’t want to go and had to be chased and brought back unwillingly.  The Japanese wanted him to surrender the Islands so we had to get him out of the country.

As we had no boat now, all the members of the 35 boat were sent to Dansalan near Lake Lanao.  We were billeted in Camp Keithley, the old Constabulary Barracks, situated there.  In early 1942 we received word from Australia that two PBYs were going to land on Lake Lanao and we were to service and take care of them.  Naturally it was our contention that this was the help that MacArthur had promised the PT sailors that he would send to them after he reached Australia.  Wrong, after the PBYs landed and were serviced, they took off again and went to Corregidor where they picked up 20 American Nurses and a few ranking officers and brought them back to Mindanao.  The planes were serviced again and before they took off the nurses gave us all their cigarettes and other things we could use. They knew we were still going to be there, and they could replace what they needed in Australia.  They boarded the two PBYs and the first one was able to take off, but the second one struck a submerged rock or a log and had to return to cover to have the pontoon fixed.  The ten nurses of the second plane were scared and confused and not sure of what to do.  The male officer in charge made the decision, said they would go to Del Monte and take a plane out from there, like MacArthur had.  However when they got there, there were no planes to take them.  They were eventually captured and returned to Corregidor by the Japanese.  If they had stayed put, every thing would have worked out, but as a young nurse said later, they weren’t given a choice.  Later the second plane was able to take off and make it back to Australia but there were only five enlisted men on board.  Later info has it they were on board as stow a ways and not noticed until after take off.

When the news was received about the two planes coming in, we took the twin 50s off one of the Torpedo boats, and we placed them on a higher elevation above the lake on what we called Signal Hill.  This was to protect the planes coming in from any raiders.  During the time these planes were being serviced, two of the fellows that were up there guarding them, asked us to relieve them -- we did, they said they would be back after they ate, but they never returned.  We were on those guns for about three days, when a Moro came along and told us there was a tank coming up the road from Malabang toward Dansalan.  We took the back plates off the twin 50’s and took them with us and told the Moro to take the guns and throw them in the lake.  He never did, but no worry, guns no good without back plates.  Then we left and returned to Kiethley Barracks for a snack and a little sack time.

The next day we heard of a plan to blow the road going to Malabang.  Someone had to get the dynamite and they asked for volunteers.  Chamberlin and yours truly volunteered for the job.  We got an old flat bed truck without a cab or cover of any kind and started out for Iligan where there was supposed to be a depot with dynamite.  It took us quite a while to make it on the road and to locate the depot area.  The morning was already gone.  We put about 10 boxes of dynamite on the truck with caps and started back toward Dansalan.  It was getting dark and we were about half way back when the lights went out and we had to drive by moon light the rest of the way.  When we got in we unloaded and Capt Price and some others went down toward Malabang.  They were going to blow a section where the mountain came down very close and steep to the road that ran along Lake Lanao.  A decision was made to make a stand, to try and stop the Japanese from getting up into Dansalan, but it was futile.  I had a pistol, another fellow had a shot gun, with probably only a few of rounds of ammunition.  Although there were a lot of bolos, they are  useless against rifles.  We went down near the place where the road had been blown, stood on the side of the hill and waited to see what was going to happen.  We didn’t see anything but I was wearing a navy hat that is white and makes a very good target and every time I’d stick my head up to see what was going on I’d hear a rustling of leaves over my head.  After that happened about two or three times, I figured I’d better take it off, because I thought someone might be shooting at it.  So we waited and waited but really nothing happened.  We decided that even if we stayed there we weren’t going to be able to do any good, so we went down along the road and caught a truck and went back to Dansalan where eventually a retreat was made back up into the hills.  We made our new HQ there.

We finally received word that a surrender had been made by Wainwright. With the prospect of being imprisoned, we thought maybe we could get a bunch together and just take off and live back in the hills.  We got medical, armament and a few other units together that we figured would be helpful and then it happened, someone blew the whistle.  Someone must have blown the whistle because word came down to those of us in the group, that if we didn’t surrender we would be court marshaled after the war.  They had all of our names too.  So we posed the question -- if it were possible, after we surrendered, could we try to escape?.  They told us, if you surrender, then you can do anything you want, that’s up to you.  So, Knortz, Ball, Jimmy Smith and myself decided that if we were going to surrender, we’d have to start making a plan now for an attempted escape later on.

We went down the mountain a little way where there was a trail, we dug a hole in the center and  buried an ammunition box with our guns, hand grenades, ammunition and whatever we could put in it, sealed it, closed it up and run back and forth on the trail until it wasn’t noticeable any more.  Then we went in and made the surrender.

During the surrender I worked as a truck driver for about a week.  I would load sugar, bring it back down to be stored in a Jap warehouse.  We had lots of sugar in bags up there in the mountains, enough sugar to equip a candy factory.  There were probably four or five trucks all together.  One day I was hauling a load of sugar down and I had to wait in line because of the back up of trucks ahead of me.  A Japanese soldier jumped on the back, threw a bag of sugar off into the tall grass along the side of the road.  Ripping it open with his bayonet, he reached his hand down into it, filled his mouth with sugar, and ate as much as he could.  I guess he hadn’t had sugar in such a long time he just wanted to get a sample of it.  While I was waiting, I got out of the truck and stood by the side of the road.  I had my white navy hat on and my dog tags around my neck held by a beaded chain.  This was a chain I’d taken off the 35 boat as a memory souvenir.  Someone came up behind me and asked,” Are you a father”?  I turned around and was surprised to see a young Japanese lieutenant standing there.  I told him no, I’m not a Priest.  He probably thought so when he mistook the chain for a rosary.  We started talking about different things.  One thing he mentioned was that before the War all Japanese of high stature or from the upper classes were taken aside and had their futures planned for them.  They were trained and schooled differently from those of the ordinary citizen.  He was sent to the United States to observe and it was mandatory that he learn to speak English fluently.  He chose and was accepted to go to Northwestern University.  He spent a lot of time in the States and traveled to other parts of the World.  He told me that one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen was a church in South Africa.  We talked about different things for about a half an hour, when finally, I had to leave and move my truck out of there and get it unloaded.  You could tell that these troops were different than the mill-of the run soldiers.  They were neat and clean, usually taller than most.  I presume these were the Imperial Guard, all spit and polish type of guys.  I often wondered what ever happened to him.  W e talked as friends not enemies.  It was only about a week or so after that they left and a new contingent of what you might call, ”enforcers” came in, they looked like Koreans.  We knew we were going to have trouble with them.  The original surrender was that they would not take anything we had and they would leave us alone, and that they did, but when the new ones came in we had a feeling that things were going to change, and they did.  They were rough shod with dirty patched old clothing, some were bearded and they were marching with their rifles slung any old way – ah, we knew we were going to have trouble, we were in for it now.  They came into our barracks, they took our shoes, they took our watches they took everything, even our mosquito netting.  They came in with bayonets and did whatever they wanted.  Finally, when they took my toothbrush, that did it.  I decided right then and there we were going to have to make our move and get out.  So a couple days later I was working down at the pump house with Jimmy Smith and word came through that Knortz and Ball had already taken off.  We knew then we couldn’t wait any longer, if those two had made the break already, there was going to be a stop, and no one else would get out.  I went up to the barracks and got a shelter half and what quinine I could get and other little things I could carry in my pocket and then went down and met Jim. Before we left we busted the pumps engine at the pump house and took all the tools and through them out into the Lake.  Then I noticed an extra large crescent wrench that was hanging on the wall and I don’t know why but some thing urged me to take it with me.  We started up the road, just walking straight out.  We’d go from one old rusted out USAFFE vehicle to another, like we were looking for parts.  At the end of the road was a Japanese guard standing, but he didn’t pay much attention to us at first because he was surrounded by several Dalagas, or young girls.  I don’t know why or what but they had his complete attention.  As we got closer to him he looked at us, I held the wrench up real high so he could see it, and then pointed to the cars and ducked back down as though we were looking for something.  I kind of lifted my head slightly so I could see what he was doing and he wasn’t paying any more attention, and he went back to talking to the young girls.  I couldn’t believe it.  We continued this ritual until we could get far enough away to where he couldn’t see us and then we just took off and that’s how we made our break, we didn’t do anything but just walk right out the road.  God was with us that day.

Now prior to the break, and a couple of nights before we left, we were sitting a round in camp one evening, it was cool for a change and Sgt.Chandler was there with us.  He and I were talking together about different things and the topic came up about our plans for making an escape.  I told him pretty soon.  Chandler knew we were going to go, but not when.  I talked with him for a couple of hours just trying to get him to go with us.  He said he couldn’t because he had been placed in charge of the guys, and he felt it was his duty to stay with them.  I told him that something might happen, there might be repercussions.  He said no I’ll stay here, I’ll take my chances.  So he knew, he knew we were going.  I had warned him in the only way I could.  What happened to him, I feel very sad about that, he just didn’t want to go.  He was like that though, a very conscientious type of fellow.  What will happen happens I guess. 

After we made the break and got passed the sentry we kept going and walked until it was getting pretty dark, following a road that led to where we originally had our HQ.  There was no place we could rest or sleep until we came upon a Moro house.  We went up and knocked on the door, it was probably about 7:30 – 8:00 o’clock at night by this time.  This Moro, he was a young about 24 or 25, came to the door.  He couldn’t understand us and we couldn’t talk his language but we showed him we wanted to get some sleep, and that we were tired.  He had a wife and a couple of young children, but he didn’t hesitate, he opened the back door of his shack and showed us where we could rest.  Before we went in I grabbed a little club, a short piece of a tree branch and had that in my hand, just in case.  You never know for sure what a Moro is going to do.  It was common knowledge that while you are in his house as a guest he will treat you with respect, but when you go outside your on your own.  We slept that night, off and on and then early in the morning we got up, and got ready to go.  We never even had a chance to thank him for his hospitality as he was never in sight when we left.  I’m sure that he knew of every move we made.  We headed for the place where we had buried the arms and ammunition.  When we got there, it had already been dug up.  Oh, I knew then that Knortz and Ball had just been there ahead of us.  When had they dug it up, last night or this morning?  If they were gone we would be without arms, ammunition, everything.  There was one last chance.  It just so happened that before we went in and surrendered, there was a little cave like impression on the side of the mountain that was close to where we had buried the box.  We used to go down there and talk and kill time.  I thought if they are still here, they might be in that place.  So down we went and sure enough there they were, both of them, and to this day I’m not sure if they were happy to see us or not.  We dibbed up all of our belongings and took off and headed up to a place called Kapi.  In Kapi we found Ben Farrens and several other young fellows.  We decided that while we were there we would stay and rest a little and then decide what we were going to do.  Bill Knortz and Bob Ball took off soon after that for other parts.

On July 1st the four of us had made good our escape.  On July 4th, we celebrated our country’s Declaration of Independence.  Ben Farrens had an American flag that he had been carrying in his back pack for some time, so about 8 or 9 o’clock in the morning I guess – time seems to elude me now -- we took out that flag and ran it up on a pole and had our own celebration by singing our National Anthem.  It wasn’t real fancy but it was affective.  During the time we were there, several things happened.  The Datu got sore one evening because his horse had gotten loose and run into his garden or something.  Anyway he got pee’d off about it and shot the horse.  Not to be out done, Farrens went out and cut a few steaks off the horse’s flank and we had that for supper.  It was the first meat we had had for a long time, and believe me it was really good -- sweet, tasty and tender.

Another thing was that Charley Smith and his friend Hamner came through the camp and stayed a few days, and when they decided to go, he mentioned to me they were thinking of going to try and make it to Australia.  They hadn’t really made plans yet but they were thinking about it and then threw the question out, if I might be interested in going along.  I think he was just feeling me out but I said no I don’t think so, not right now.  Then they left, and it was quite a spell before we saw either of them again. 

We stayed there a couple of weeks or so, then on about July 20th or 21st we decided to go to Deisher’s Camp, which was somewhere between Kapi and Iligan.  We knew there were some men there, sailors and so forth, so we thought we’d head over that way and get in touch with them.  The Datu of Kapi said he wanted to give us an escort to go along, said he would give us some of his men to lead us on the trail which I thought was very nice.  It was nice all right!  We left early that morning and sometime about 2 o’clock in the afternoon a couple of his men dropped behind us.  I just happened to be the last one in line, so I became the first victim.  There was a shot and I caught one right in the back of my shoulder but luckily the bullet went right through and didn’t hit bone.  As I dropped down I could see Jimmy Smith right ahead of me, he must have turned his head a little bit when that shot went off because the bullet grazed him right across the forehead.  I’m not sure if it came from the other gun or if it was the one that went through my shoulder.  We dropped down on the ground and crawled up behind one of the high roots slanting off the side of the tree, this gave us about 15 inches or so of protection, it was something we could hide down behind.  We waited until they emptied their clip, then we raised up to fire back and they were gone, they had fired at us from a crossing path and when they had emptied their clips they just took off running so we never did see them.

            For a while I didn’t feel anything but the bleeding was profuse, all down the front of my shirt and down my pants.  We couldn’t stay there we had to keep going.  That happened around 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and for the remainder of time we had to keep walking.  About 5 o’clock we came to another Moro barrio where we stayed for the evening.  They were pretty good to us.  We didn’t have any medicine or anything to treat the wound so they -- a couple of Moros -- went out and made up a solution from the Guava tree.  They took the little green shoots off the tree, and they boiled them in water until the water turned a pinkish red color and that is what we used as an antiseptic.  They poured it down through and wiped the wound with it.  I wasn’t able to lay down flat that night I had to sleep up on a slant.  Every time I’d lay down flat the pain was unbearable.  They put a flat board, looked like a one by six and eight to ten foot long, propped it up on a box to slant it downward and I laid on that.  I tried to get some rest but it was only off and on.  The next morning we asked to have some of them lead us to Deisher’s camp. 

            In our group we had an old man named Boles and his son Bill and Bill could speak a little Moro but  these Moro’s didn’t know that.  They said they would take us but in payment we had to give them all the guns and ammunition we had.  Well, I didn’t know what was going on at the time and that Jimmy and the two Boles’ had already given up their guns, which of course was our only means of protection.  When they came to me and I realized what had happened I wouldn’t give them my pistol.  I said that when we got to Deisher’s camp then they could have it.  So we started out, and as soon as we got on the trail, I took out my gun and pointed it right at the back of the fellow in front of me, who was a Moro.  We let them know right then what would happen if they tried anything funny.  Bill told them in Moro that if anything happened I was going to shoot their companion first and I’d shoot everyone else I could, until we were killed.  So nothing happened on the trip, they behaved well all the way after that.  It took us from 8 O’clock in the morning until about four in the afternoon to reach Deisher’s camp.  When we got there I refused to give them my pistol.  I know I broke a promise, but I didn’t want to give that gun up.  If I hadn’t kept the gun, God only knows what would have happened. I was very leery because Bill had told us before we left that he had heard them talking and that they were discussing whether to kill us or not when we got on the trail.

            While in Deisher’s Camp Tom Mitsos became my mentor, he took over trying to help me by dressing my wound and so forth. It was very hard for me all by myself to keep it clean, so Tom got a small bamboo stick and we put a clean piece of cloth on it (it was Mitsos handkerchief) and used this to work that down through the hole, back and forth to make sure it stayed clean.  To treat a bullet wound you can’t let it heal without keeping one side open because if it heals on both sides and you have that opening in between pus forms, you have a lot of problems develop. You have to make sure that one side stays open.  Since the bullet wound was a little bit lower in the back than where it came out the front – we kept the front clean and let it heal from the back out.  Tom was the man that stood by me and helped me the most. 

            After about two or three weeks in the camp, we had a bamboo hut made for ourselves. That included myself the two Bowls’ and a sailor named Rook. This shack was built on the outskirts of the camp, not up in close to the center like the others.  A fence of logs had been built surrounding the central compound for protection in case there was an attack.  One night about 7:30 in the evening, just before it got dark, all hell broke loose.  Bullets began flying through the nepa walls from all directions catching us completely by surprise.  The air looked like it was full of confetti as the bullets began to tear the wall down.  I saw Rook grab his forty-five and jump out the door looking for a safer place to be.  The three of us dropped to the floor to get out of the line of fire.  I landed on my left shoulder and received a sharp pain. About this time someone opened up with a BAR that sounded like a machine gun and all the other firing stopped.  Then there was a deafening silence during which I took the opportunity to crawl into the corner nearest to where the shooting had come from.  I figured if I was going to get shot, I wanted to get it in the head and not in the belly.  There was no way they could help me if I got a bullet wound in the stomach.  The silence lasted for a good four or five minutes, then there was one more shot.  It came up through the floor of our place and it passed so close to my head that I could feel the heat of it.  We found out later it was Napalillo, a sailor from off of one of the PT boats, that had run down the hill firing the BAR as he came. Using that BAR had been our savior that night.  I believe to this day they, the attackers, came to get me for not giving them the gun I had promise them.  Breaking a promise and fooling with their women were no-no’s in that country.  Mr. Boles, the old man, got two bullets in his belly, they were not straight in but cross wise right next to each other, lodged in the fat of his stomach. We knew that they would have to be removed some how.  He was afraid, he never let us touch him, his fear of pain was greater than that of death.  All we could do was stand by and watch, just watch him die.  He lasted about two weeks, then he died and we buried him.  We were willing to try but he wasn’t.  It’s a terrible thing to watch a man die of peritonitis.  The irony of the whole thing was he had the pain anyway.

            No one had any medicine, but plenty of mosquitoes to bothered us.  What we would do for mosquito bites was to use a cinchona tree near by.  We used to strip bark off that tree and we would boil it until the water turned green.  We used to drink that in the morning and in the evening.  Trying to drink a cup of that tea was terrible.  It was hard to get it down, sometimes we’d even vomit – but we didn’t like having malaria so that’s what we had to do.  In the meantime we kept working on that wound of mine.  When we were attack, I had dropped to the floor to get out of the line of fire, it broke open the wound again, and all that accumulated pus came shooting out, it was a God send, it began to heal pretty good after that. 

In the camp was a fellow named Anunuevo, a very superior type of person, who had come along with Deisher, who wanted to get out of Iligan because the Japs were there.  He helped build the cota in the compound, and then he went off by himself.  With him were his wife, a 15-year-old daughter and a 26 year old daughter.  He figured he could take a couple of fellows over in his camp, to help Deisher out by reducing the number to be fed.  We thought it would be a good idea to go over there with him.  I went to his camp along with another sailor by the name of Glover.  We stayed with him for a month and a half or so, until we finally went out to join Fertig.  While we were in Anunuevo’s camp, there was a fellow who came through that had malaria real bad.  He was blacking out all the time, and too weak to do anything, we didn’t think he had any more than a week or two to live.  Anunuevo decided that they would try an old native treatment on him.  Anunuevo had a couple of his workers come over and what they did was to massage his spleen.  They took him off of all sugar and fat and they gave him a ginger tea to drink.  They would massage his spleen, early in the morning and in the evening about 5 o’clock.  This went on for about a week and we could see a big difference happening, he was beginning to get up and walk around, he wasn’t passing out any more.  Another week went by and he was actually getting out and feeling good.  By the third week he was out chopping wood, we couldn’t believe it, why it happened was almost a miracle.  Ironically we found out later, after we had left to join Fertig, that his 15-year-old daughter caught malaria and they couldn’t help her, she died.  This goes to show you that things happen sometimes that you can’t understand.  We had stayed in that camp I’d say until about late Sept.  We heard this fellow Fertig was starting up a new group and we thought that we’d go out and join him, so most of the fellows in the camp left.  I joined Fertig in early Oct. Ball was there, Knortz was there and a lot of other guys began drifting in.  We set up a radio station and began trying to reach Australia.  During this time Fertig asked me if I would go down to Pagadian.  They had a young fellow down there that had built himself a little transmitter and every time we would go on the air he would go on the air, trying to get recognition I suppose, whatever.  He asked me to go down and just keep him off the air so he wouldn’t be using his transmitter so much.  I left the station and went down to Pagadian where I stayed for approximately six months.  That was just prior to the first submarine coming in.

One morning I got up and someone came running up to the house I was staying in and said someone was coming up the trail and had all new clothes on.  I got up and went down to see what it was and met Chick Parsons.  He was walking up the road that leads down to the beach.  He was coming up the hill all dressed up in a brand new kaki Navy uniform, right down from his hat to his shiny shoes.  Boy, It was unbelievable no one, but no one, had any clothes like that to wear.  We met and shook hands and he wanted to know about Fertig and the first thing I knew he got transportation and headed up to Fertig’s headquarters.  Before he left he told us that a submarine was going to come up.  It was going to surface at 6:30 in the evening.  So after supper we got a couple of bancas and went out and waited for it.  About 6:30 we could hear a little rumbling, and feel a slight vibration in the banca.  Before you know it, the nose of that submarine came up with the water dripping off of the bow.  It came right up to the surface and the hatch came flying open and out came Charlie Smith; he was the first one out.  Man did he look good, he had made it to Australia, he had talked with MacArthur and MacArthur said he wasn’t planning to send any more submarines.  The reason for saying this is because they had had trouble getting in.  He had tried before using Filipinos as pilots but each time they would guide them to their own hometowns with precarious results.  However he said he would try once more if he’d go along with Chick Parsons and try for a landing in Pagadian, but he would only send 15 tons of supplies along with the ship, and that he did.  That evening we unloaded the submarine.  When they heard that I was a Navy man they wanted me to go out with them.  I said no I’ll catch the next one, they need operators (radio) really bad.  So I did stay, I did stick around, I’d catch the next Sub that came in.  I never did see one after that.

A week later I got word from Fertig wanting to know if I would volunteer to go down on the coast to Davao and help set up a radio station, that he would send me relief, in six months.  So the next thing I knew, a fellow named Charlie Smith, Bob Ball, Lee Ragsdale, came into Pagadian and we made preparations to leave for Davao.  We traveled by banca, it took us three nights of travel, we’d  lay over by day and travel by night until we reached a place called Glan.  There was a Maj. Page there, in charge of that area, so we stayed with him for a couple of days, and then went overland, across the top of a small mountain to a place called Sugel where we set up our first station.  Ball and Charlie Smith went up the coast a ways to talk with people up there -- when they came back they headed right out and Ragsdale was left there with me.  I don’t believe Rags knew he was going to be left down there, because he seemed kind of surprised and a little upset.  Ball and Charlie left and went back up to headquarters. 

I was pretty leery the first couple of months or so, Fertig got word to me that the Japs knew I was there, I was afraid they could crisscross my signals, and they would be able to pick me out.  So we kept moving every couple of weeks, we’d move, build another shack and so forth.  Then I noticed that nothing was happening, so the time got to be longer and longer.  It was a lot of work to build one of those shacks and set up all of our equipment, so we kept going a little longer and a little longer in the same place.  Pretty soon I was staying a month at a time, then two months at a time and nothing was happening.  We had more of a feeling of security so we kept working our way up the coast slowly.

At this time we were making contact with Australia direct. We would reach them about 12:00 o’clock at night; the signal would go through better then.  Later on when our HQ got stronger and had better equipment, my messages were routed through them.

One night we were pouring gasoline into the little charger that I used for charging the batteries, when all of a sudden -- I don’t know what caused it, there was a flash of fire and it came right up through the top of the can at the opening and went right straight up through the roof.  Now the gasoline we were carrying with us was high-test aviation type. I know I wasn’t smoking and I don’t remember if Ragsdale was or not but it was a real emergency.  The fire started consuming the house, and we started passing stuff out through the window, to the boys outside trying to save as much as possible from being burned.  And we had just about everything out when some gas that had spilled on my leg, during the pouring caught fire from the flaming mosquito netting on my bed.  It struck me right on the leg and when that happened I jumped out through the open window.  The fire had gone not only down on my leg but down into my shoe.  The boys put a blanket on me and rolled me around to put it out.  The ensuing pain was terrific.  The house had burned down to the ground, there was nothing left but we had saved the equipment and most of our clothing’s and a few other things.  All night long there was a slight drizzle. We wanted to get elsewhere, somewhere other than at the house in case someone spotted the fire, maybe even the Japs.  Ragsdale became obsessed, I think with guilt, believing every thing that happened was his fault.  He lost control, took his 45 and threw it as far as he could into a cornfield that was back of the house.  About 6:30 that morning some cargedores came up from down on the beach.  They picked me up, I couldn’t walk any more and I’d been crawling on the ground trying to get away from the house.  They put me on their back and were carrying me piggyback down the hill.  I think during that time frame I passed out four or five times.  I’d come to, and pass out, come to and pass out the pain was unbearable.  I stayed in the house down below for a month or so and I had to send Ragsdale back.  Something happened, he was getting real bad, mentally.  A week later a boy came to me and said Rags was doing strange things, so I sent for him.  When I saw him I couldn’t believe what I saw.  His eyes had turned from a dark blue to a light gray.  I could tell that he was unable to take care of himself any more.

I sent him back up with the men that had come along with me to protect the station.  We started out with ten men and a Lt. Fernandez and when they left with Ragsdale that was the last time I ever saw them.  I stayed there in the house, barely able to move with a Tommy gun by my side and  treated my leg with a concoction of coconut oil and sulfanilamide powder.  I applied this solution to the leg with a chicken feather.  The leg healed real well, it developed a protective coating, a protective layer that was a gray color, and it looked just like a piece of elephants hide.  The covering started at my knee and went down my whole leg and most of my foot and was about a half inch thick.  When that finally came off after about a month I had the most beautiful looking skin you’d ever see, in fact that leg looked better than the other one that hadn’t been burnt.  During the time that Ragsdale was gone, I heard that something happened and that he died.  It was only later, after I was relieved of duty that I heard the truth, Rags had killed himself.  I was devastated. I had sent Rags back with the hope he could get help as submarines were coming in now.  I was sure they would send him out to Australia or get him help in some way.  Mitsos was the one who tried his best to help and take care of him.  When I heard his story I wanted to cry.

After the leg healed we started back to work again, took our equipment – I had to have a receiver sent down to me because the one I had was not working after the fire.  We set up the equipment again and a few months later, after a year, I got my first supplies. No one wanted to bring anything down to me I guess because it was getting pretty close to the Japs.  Anyway I got my supplies which consisted of news papers, cigarettes, whisky a few things like that. However it was good to receive it, that’s for sure. 

We kept working our way up the coast, a little at a time, setting up stations, sending out messages, until we finally reached a place called Kalian.  In back of Kalian was a mountain that was pretty high, it was tall enough that the clouds would came in once in a while, and cover it. I went up there with the equipment and set up.  It was the best area I’d ever been in all the way up the coast.  I could see the 30 miles clear across to San Augustine Point which is at the mouth of the bay that is Davao Gulf.  The point had one drawback, fog at times could shroud my view but most times it was perfect so that anything going in or coming out could be seen real well.  We stayed there probably two or three months.  Then we had our close call with the Japanese.  We’d had other little incidents now and then in the past but this time they were going all out.  This was a full moonlit night.  I used to keep boys out on this kind of night watching for ships or any other kind of movement that looked suspicious.  I don’t know if they’d sleep on me or not but I used to keep them out there on 4 hour shifts.  This night, one came in and said there was a light moving on the beach -- I saw something that didn’t look right.  I looked down and could see a native running with a torch.  Then I heard sounds like a launch, coming in and going out.  It was full moonlight and all I could hear was the sounds, I couldn’t see anything, yet I could see the ripples of waves sparkling in the moonlight.  They must have been just out of sight around Kalian point that sticks out from the beach a bit..  Anyway I could hear the sounds of engines coming in and going back out, coming in and going back out, it almost sounded like they were landing something.  I had two boys I kept on the beach all the time, I’d change off now and then and put two more down there who were supposed to come up and let me know if anything was happening.  This noise got me going, I didn’t know if I should break down my equipment and get packing or not.  It used to take us an hour or more to break down and pack up to move everything.  I pondered the thought -- if this turns out to be nothing -- but you only have to make one mistake, so I said, OK lets breaker down.  This was probably around 12 o’clock and by 1 o’clock we had all that equipment down, packed up and ready to move out.  About 6:30 in the morning my two boys came running up. They came running toward the house, there was a little drizzly rain and it was slippery.  All I could hear them saying was Hapoon Hapoon, then they both slipped and slid right up to the door.  They said Hapoon and I said where, and they said right behind us.  Well we started moving everything out, but they were not right behind them, they were behind them all right but they were carrying full packs and all that other jazz so we were able to get everything out except two batteries, which we hid in the tall grass and bushes away from the house. They never got up there until about 10:30 in the morning. 

I got far enough back down the trail so I could take my glasses and see what was going on.  They hit the shack, they finally ended up burning it, and everything else.  They never came after us because they didn’t know for sure which way we went, then they went back down.  If I had enough men I could have ambushed them easily but my job was to get messages out not to get killed.  So we just let them do their thing and get away with it.  I had a 5 gal can of white sugar and a 5 gal can of brown that I always kept hid in the back in a little cave in some rocks.  I used to keep it hidden out of sight so it wouldn’t suddenly walk away sometime.  When we went back to check afterwards those cans were gone, so I know some one had sold me out.  We had had a boy come in maybe about two weeks before that, he stayed about 4 or 5 days then he just disappeared one day and never came back.  One of my boys by the name of Misneck, we called him that because he could never say “Mistake” the right way, wanted to shoot him when he first came in.  I said no, you can’t shoot everyone.  We all make a misneck now and then.  So when this happened I knew he must have been up there spotting because he knew where we kept the sugar.  He must have been the culprit that told.  Some of them were Japs but most were former PC soldiers held by the Japs and used by them to do their dirty work. 

As we had to go off the air for a while anyway and I had to have one of my boys go back and get the batteries, I thought this would be a good time to check something out.  I heard a submarine had come in down at a place where a Maj. McGee was staying, and I thought that while I’m off the air and have to be quiet any way, I’ll go down there and see what was going on.  It took us about three days hoofing it to reach McGee’s place, and yes there were new faces on the beach.  To my surprise there was a soldier there that was from my home town  He said he hadn’t been assigned to anything yet so I asked him to talk with his commanding officer and maybe he could come back up the coast with me.  It was arranged, so we started back up the coast to my area of operations and from here we start out on another story. 

 

  

  

Bill Johnson 1945   Bill Johnson 1994 AGOM reunion San Diego

Bill Became a Dentist

I must regress here and go back to when we had the attack on the station.  I said that I had to leave two batteries behind.  Now I can’t operate without those two batteries, so I told one of my sergeants who had started out with me from the beginning that I wanted him to go get them.  I sent two other fellows along with him to help carry.  I told him before I left, I don’t want you to stop any place, if you have to sleep, sleep outside, I don’t want anyone to know that your traveling and I want you to go get those batteries and bring them back to me.  Do you understand?  He said yes.  I gave him an old luger that I had gotten from someone.  There was no rifling and it only had about 4 or 5 shells.  I said take this with you and if you have to use it, use it, but if your careful you won’t have to, you shouldn’t have any trouble.  Well he disobeyed me, he figured I was being too careful, so when he left, the first night before he got to where he was to get the batteries, he stopped at a native’s house, and then went to sleep.  One of the natives that lived in that place went down to the beach and got a hold of the Japs.  I must relate here the reason for this treachery.  When the Japs came into Kalian they took over the fishpond and corralled all of the beef in the area.  For selling me out the natives were offered fish or meat as the prize.  It was to good an offer to turn down.  He led the Japs back that evening to where he lived.  When they came in to get my boys the two boys jumped up and went out through the roof.  Now when the natives build a house they always have a means of escape, they go through the roof and roll down the side of a hill.  And that’s what the two boys did, but Mendez opened fire and from what I hear he hit the Jap in the knee and busted his kneecap.  The Japs retaliated and Mendez was shot in the chest.  They took him back down to the beach and tied him to a tree.  I don’t believe he ever told them where I was, because he didn’t know.  When he left I told him I was leaving and he’d have to find me when he got back.  I never saw him alive again. Although suffering from his wounds they left him tied up till he finally died, still tied to that tree.  Then they buried him under it.

Well this soldier, Jack Patton was his name, and I, when we returned from McGee’s, stopped, at Kalian where the Japs had first landed and set up camp.  We dug underneath that tree, and took all that was left of Mendez, and put them in a 5 gal can. He’d turned to bones by now but still had a little hair left on his skull.  I had sent two boys up above and they caught the fellow who sold him out.  They brought him down to me and I assigned two of my boys to take care of him.  I said I don’t want you to harm him, just take care of him.  But you know how long he lasted, when they got around the corner, the boys shot him, said he tried to escape by running, that they had no choice but to killed him.  So we had to bring him back and I buried him in the same spot that Mendez had occupied.  We took the bones, put them in the banca and we took him up to a place called Culomin and there we gave him a decent burial, and that is the end of that story. 

We continued, Jack and I, up to where I had my radio equipment.  He stayed with me, until he got settled into his own place, and he would come up now an then to say hello and to share his coffee with me.  He had a gallon can of Nes Café that he would bring with him so we could have coffee and so forth.  That can of coffee came from Australia with him and he never once suggested that I take some for my own use. Although very willing to share, the can was always where he could see it.  He stayed with me for a while, then got orders to go someplace else.  But it was a sad day for Mendez, if he had just listened to me he would have been all right.  The old saying, “never be too confident—always stay alert”, is surely true.

During those days down on the coast, from the time I arrived and even from before they had a problem with a fellow called Villimore.  He had a brother in law called Velosa.  We called him Judge Velosa I guess he was a lawyer or something.  Anyway, this guy Villimore was a bad one.  He was supposed to be under this Maj. Page, but he was never under any-ones control. He called himself a Captain, and had a bunch of boys he had picked up from around that area under his command but only because they thought he was legitimate and under the command of Major Page.  He was well armed and they were trouble makers.  He not only bothered the women, he took what he wanted, and he had people killed for their guns or anything they had that he wanted.  He knew I was there, we had met but he never did much to irritate me.  He knew that I was not under Page, that I had come down there to do a job, so he sorta left me alone.  Eventually it got so bad, what he was doing, that about the end of 1944 I sent a message to Fertig and I asked him if I could go after him and put him under arrest.  I never thought he would do it, but Fertig came back with a message saying yes.  I got a hold of another faction further up the coast, a fellow by the name of Diehl, who had a small contingent of men who were armed, and I asked him if he would give me a hand. I had to have some help with this Villimore problem as I didn’t have enough men of my own to take care of it.  He said yes he would.  So around Dec of 1944 we went to a place called Culamin where the men of Villimor were billeted, and we worked our way back up into where the camp was situated.  We thought we were going to get them all together.  I went inside the camp and up into the billeted area where they were sleeping.  I woke them up, told them who I was, I told them Villimore was going to be put under arrest, and they would be under Maj. Page from then on.  Next to me was standing my little gun bearer, and the first thing I knew a shot was fired and he dropped at my feet, they killing him.  for all I know it

Bill Johnson & Fillipino Friend with Monkey Faced Eagle

 

Rugged Terrain – Friends Revisited

might have been meant for me.  Well then, all hell broke loose.  Villimore wasn’t there and Velosa wasn’t there either.  In the mêlée that followed there were 15 people killed, and many of them wounded.  The next day they got Velosa, but not Villimore.  There was nothing we could do, we got all the guns and marked them and they were sent down to Page, but it broke up Villimores gang.  There wasn’t a thing he could do after that because we had his guns.  No guns no shoot-em-up.  The sad part of this is that the men in this command were never listed in Major Page’s Regiment so never entitled to any back pay.

About this time we could see American planes flying high probably scouting out the area, so we figured what we would do is move a little bit further north.  So we gathered everything together and went up past Malita, a little north of the Tabolan area. There was a flat top mountain and we set up camp. From there we were able to overlook the whole flat plain area below us.  From this spot we could almost see all the way to Digos, with binoculars of coarse.  The Japanese had built an airfield down in Padada and from this position I was able to keep our planes informed of all the activities that were going on down on the field.  When they would come over and bomb, I would watch where they were moving their planes, I’d send out a message and let them know and the next day they would come back and bomb that area.  This went on for perhaps a month or so, then one day I got a message from headquarters saying that our troops were going to be coming in to pick me up, but that I should stay where I was until they arrived.  Of course this info brought a stream of tears to my eyes knowing that I would be leaving this beautiful spot and situation. A cry of joy comes in many forms, and this I had with the help of great anticipation. 

I kept information flowing to headquarters about all information I could get, watching ship and plane movements, any and all intelligence I could uncover. By April troops had moved down into the Davao area and they sent a contingent to pick me up.  I packed up and went up to Davao and got a river boat that took me up as far as it could go and from there I worked my way back to the Dansalan area, which was now occupied by our forces.

I was then transferred to Leyte where I spent two months getting processed and indoctrinated and was finally sent home in July, arriving in the states on the 25th of July.  I was sent to Letteman general hospital to be examined and then shipped out to Crial hospital in Cleveland Ohio.  At Crial General I was booked in as an outpatient and had to report in once a week for a month but was able to live at home.  The service had a name for this I think they called it R&R.  It was news to me; it certainly wasn’t the R&R that I’d heard about

We were advised after we got our discharge, that we shouldn’t do anything for six months or so, just take it easy and try to get back into civilian life.  I did as they advised and then about six months later I got a job at an automobile agency.  I started out working with radios in the shop and then from there progressed up to the parts department.  From there I went into sales, sold cars and also handled insurance for GMAC.  Finally I got the bug that I wanted to go back to school.  I put an application in and had a talk with the headman and finally was accepted into Western Reserve University.  Since I hadn’t been in college before I had to start from the beginning.  Eventually after receiving my BS degree, I went through Dental school and graduated with a DDS degree and opened a practice. I was in practice for twenty-four years before retirement.     

In 1984 I returned to the Philippines on a trip to commemorate the landing of MacArthur on Leyte.

**** O ****

The Dog Called Rex

It wasn't long after we crossed over from Glan and set up in Sugal that we began to notice that we had a new partner.  He was a large dog, not quite the size of a Great Dane but fairly close to it.  Of coarse we couldn't let it go hungry so we began to feed it.  I don't know where it came from but no one claimed him so I figured he might as well stay.  No matter where any of us went the dog was always there.  He was always the leader.  If there were other dogs around he was always the one in front.  So we named him Rex.  He became a constant companion and we, I should say I, became very found of him.  I can't say for sure when he left us but I'll never forget what happened to hastened his decision.

One day we noticed that the dog was nowhere around. we weren't too concerned at first as it wasn't unusual for him to take off but he would usually return when it as time to eat or at least before it got too dark.  After dinner I became concerned when it started to get dark and even if I called I didn't get any results.  I laid down but I couldn't get to sleep.  I really began to worry.  Around nine thirty or ten o'clock I heard a whimpering out side of the shack.  Using a flash light I went out side and began looking around, there curled up under the house was Rex all covered with blood from his nose to the tip of his toes.  It took all the strength I could muster to pick him up and bring him inside and lay him on the table.  By the light of a lamp I washed him off and checked to see what had happened.  His chest was peppered with tiny holes and every time he took a breath and exhaled you could hear and see the holes exuding air.  He had been punctured with spear shaped points from a trap that had been set to catch wild pigs.  I must regress here and explain the workings of this anomaly.

When the natives want to catch a pig in a hilly or mountainous region full of trees or brush it is very difficult to use a spear or a bow and arrow to get results.  Even if they succeed the pig will often get away and can't be found.  Even using a gun it is difficult, but by placing small sharp spears pointing up on a small animal trail going down the results are remarkable. especially if the victim is being chased.  This is what probably happened to our Rex.  Needless to say I was devastated.  I couldn't sleep now, I stayed up the rest of the night, using what meager medication I had and hoping for the best.  The dog lived and it took a good month before he could get around but the damage was disastrous.  He could no longer run very far without stopping to get his breath, the other dogs would take advantage of him and you could almost feel the pain he was going through.  Just to watch him was enough to make you want to cry.  He was not Rex anymore, a jester not a king.  It wasn't long after that he disappeared and we never saw him again.