The Clothes on Their Backs
by Sgt. A.F. Dreves, C-1-1, Pacific Theater, WWII
After boot camp at the MCRD in San Diego CA, I was stationed at various Naval and Marine Corps bases in California and had many interesting experiences throughout my two years of stateside duty. I was eventually sent overseas with a replacement unit for the 1st Marine Division.
While in combat, I had many battlefield experiences, as did all other troops.
During the Okinawa campaign, I was wounded in the foot. I spent a week or so in the Battalion field hospital and eventually was released to return to my company (“C” Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment). My injury became infected and I could not keep up with the Company so I was returned to the rear lines to guard a large stockpile of medical supplies. This supply pile was in a remote area with no other military activity within a half mile. There were daily visits from Battalion and Company medical units to draw supplies. Other than those visits, I was alone. There were a couple of times that I had stray Japanese soldiers “visit” me, with deadly results.
One day I was tending my injury when I spotted an American soldier walking down the dirt road, just looking around. I noticed he wasn’t carrying a weapon, and I wondered what would anyone be doing up here alone and unarmed. I went over to talk to him and noticed he was an Army Lt Chaplain. I asked him if he was lost and he said no, but that he was looking for souvenirs.
I said this was no place to be and that he should return to his outfit. He said he had passed a big ravine nearby (about 100 yards wide). He noticed some clothing or objects in the bottom of the ravine, and said that he was going back there to see what he could find. I knew where this place was and I offered to go there with him for safety reasons.
Looking down and across the ravine, I noticed two or three small cave openings in the opposite hillside (a gentle slope). The chaplain was eager to go down and look but I advised him not to do so because the caves might be occupied by Japanese soldiers. We sat down for a few minutes discussing the situation when I noticed some movement in one of the cave openings.
An old man appeared. Armed with my translator and in my best Japanese accent, I shouted for him to come out with his hands up. I also told him, as best I could, that he would not be harmed if he did what I said. I shouted again and he came out followed by other elderly people, about 20-30 of them, as I recall.
They all approached us bowing and muttering and pleading for something to eat or drink. I gave them my two canteens of water and they, in turn, offered the LT and me a few lacquer-ware cups, which Okinawa was famous for. I took them out to the road and waited until some came along that could help. An Army truck finally appeared with a few G.I.s. They stopped and I said I had a present for them and asked them to escort the bedraggled people to the rear where other civilians were safely kept.
The G.I.s didn’t like the idea, but the Chaplain LT was the senior officer and he directed them to do so. As they were leaving, the LT came over to me, shook my hand, thanked me, said a short prayer for my safety, and handed me a small New Testament. In a time of death and suffering, it was nice to be able to help some old people who had nothing left but the clothes on their backs.
After boot camp at the MCRD in San Diego CA, I was stationed at various Naval and Marine Corps bases in California and had many interesting experiences throughout my two years of stateside duty. I was eventually sent overseas with a replacement unit for the 1st Marine Division.
While in combat, I had many battlefield experiences, as did all other troops.
During the Okinawa campaign, I was wounded in the foot. I spent a week or so in the Battalion field hospital and eventually was released to return to my company (“C” Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment). My injury became infected and I could not keep up with the Company so I was returned to the rear lines to guard a large stockpile of medical supplies. This supply pile was in a remote area with no other military activity within a half mile. There were daily visits from Battalion and Company medical units to draw supplies. Other than those visits, I was alone. There were a couple of times that I had stray Japanese soldiers “visit” me, with deadly results.
One day I was tending my injury when I spotted an American soldier walking down the dirt road, just looking around. I noticed he wasn’t carrying a weapon, and I wondered what would anyone be doing up here alone and unarmed. I went over to talk to him and noticed he was an Army Lt Chaplain. I asked him if he was lost and he said no, but that he was looking for souvenirs.
I said this was no place to be and that he should return to his outfit. He said he had passed a big ravine nearby (about 100 yards wide). He noticed some clothing or objects in the bottom of the ravine, and said that he was going back there to see what he could find. I knew where this place was and I offered to go there with him for safety reasons.
Looking down and across the ravine, I noticed two or three small cave openings in the opposite hillside (a gentle slope). The chaplain was eager to go down and look but I advised him not to do so because the caves might be occupied by Japanese soldiers. We sat down for a few minutes discussing the situation when I noticed some movement in one of the cave openings.
An old man appeared. Armed with my translator and in my best Japanese accent, I shouted for him to come out with his hands up. I also told him, as best I could, that he would not be harmed if he did what I said. I shouted again and he came out followed by other elderly people, about 20-30 of them, as I recall.
They all approached us bowing and muttering and pleading for something to eat or drink. I gave them my two canteens of water and they, in turn, offered the LT and me a few lacquer-ware cups, which Okinawa was famous for. I took them out to the road and waited until some came along that could help. An Army truck finally appeared with a few G.I.s. They stopped and I said I had a present for them and asked them to escort the bedraggled people to the rear where other civilians were safely kept.
The G.I.s didn’t like the idea, but the Chaplain LT was the senior officer and he directed them to do so. As they were leaving, the LT came over to me, shook my hand, thanked me, said a short prayer for my safety, and handed me a small New Testament. In a time of death and suffering, it was nice to be able to help some old people who had nothing left but the clothes on their backs.
