[In this entry, my father captures scenes — on the road, at the beach and in camp — of life on Okinawa in the days soon after the war’s end.]
September 23, 1945 (Okinawa, Japan)
Snapshots along the road to the beach:
A two-and-a-half ton truck jammed with Jap prisoners of war, many of them giving us toothy grins, roars past us. – Our three-quarter-ton stops short , and a six-by behind us swings out, barely missing the rear corner where I’m sitting. One of the boys leaps out and retrieves a brand new pith helmet from the side of the road. – A native donkey cart going up the hill, holding up traffic. The little old duffer leading it flashes us a grin as we go by. – Two nurses riding with two officers in the jeep just ahead of us. The one in the rear seat has on a white kerchief, and the guy’s arm is around her. A GI driver, coming past them, leans halfway out of his cab, eyes wide open, and lets out a Yeeow! – We pass a truck of bouncing , laughing Okinawan girls, who wave at us and throw things. A big green lime hits Budwick smack in the eye. – Giant bulldozers and scrapers and crushers pushing forward the coral rock and read earth for a new stretch of road. – A long stretch of lush green valley, a muddy stream running along its bottom, green terraced hills, rising on the other side, rolling cumulus clouds, standing above them. – The tumbled remains of thatched-roof native huts, surrounded with dense shrubbery, their massive foundation beams and wooden frames splattered with dried yellow mud. – A tall thin MP directing traffic where route 16 crosses route 13. The spot is as busy as a Manhattan intersection, but the vehicles are all GI, muddy and battered, but plenty of life in them. The nearest thing to a battleship coming down the road is a bulky “duck,” one of the amphibious trucks.
Snapshots at the beach:
A bunch of Negro fellows running a broad jump contest beside a rusted steel dock which has been beached just above the high water mark. – The rank brown seaweed piled in great windrows along the beach after the typhoon. – The broken bodies of five Navy PBM’s [the Martin PBM Mariner, a patrol bomber] and PBY’s [the Consolidated PBY Catalina, a “flying boat”] rammed up against the coral ledges south of the beach. They were looted first, and now are being torn apart by Navy salvage crews. – The desecrated tombs, with burial urns smashed, and disinterred bones lying around the entrance. Near one of them is a frail wooden box containing a body not completely decomposed. The story is that these bodies are treated and cared for during a 33-year process of burial. – Four Navy fighter planes and one Lightning dogfighting many thousands of feet above the bay, looking like small black crosses against the gray cloud cover. – Two GI’s paddling out to sea in a gaudy yellow and black-striped life raft. – the endless line of fellows going through the Red Cross canteen for coffee. – Sign on bulletin board in canteen: “Sgt. Anders: You are flying home at 1300 today. Leave from in front of Building A-2. Report immediately. M. Johnson, 1st Sergeant.” – A long line of native women, about fifty in all, walking in single file along the edge of the sea cliff. They’re carrying large bundles of salvage lumber on their heads, and have made pads of long grass to protect the tops of their heads. At the rear of the procession is a young native man riding a pony. – Old native men, brown and grizzled, carrying tokes across their shoulders, from both ends of which are suspended heavy bundles of wood and field produce. The men are barefoot, and paddle along with a short, mincing gait.
Snapshots around the camp area:
Three fellows struggling down the road with a small home-made trailer which is loaded precariously with 9 five-gallon water cans. – A couple hundred fellows sitting around on piles of unpacked crates, eating chow. – Improvised clothes lines sagging with the daily washing. – The SIAM theater with an overflow crowd to see the evening movie. The benches are packed, guys are ranged solid along the bunks on either side, and standing on the trucks which are parked in the rear. The fellows had got hold of a couple of 16 mm. reels showing girls taking off their clothes. They show them before the regular feature. “Fellows, these films were made for art instruction. How many artists in the audience?” Howls and shrieks and groans greet the disrobing girls.