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Interviewed by: Katy Rowland |
| On December 7, 1941, I was a 14-year old boy living in Kansas City, Kansas. I remember the day well. I had gone with my friends to see a movie at the Art Theater at 13th & Central, when the manager suddenly stopped the film. "The US is at war with the Japanese," he told the dumbstruck audience. "They have just bombed Pearl Harbor. President Roosevelt has declared war." I was too young to enlist so I stayed in school and practiced hard at athletics, especially football. From time to time, the Marine recruiters who worked nearby would come to watch us play and they got to know us all by name. Oh, how we looked up to those men! My best friend Joe Bednar and I agreed that the Marines were "one tough outfit," and we wanted to be part of that. Being patriotic boys we were eager to become soldiers as soon as possible. Normally the armed forces will not accept a recruit younger than 18 years old. But if a 17-year old boy could produce a permission form signed by both of his parents he could join. My parents relented, and on February 12, 1945, Joe and I went downtown to enlist for a four-year stint with the US Marines. When I think about it now, I would never give permission for a 17-year old child of mine to fight in a war. I’m certain my parents had no idea what I was getting into. But I do remember that the day I left was the only time I’d seen my father cry. I was assigned to the 2nd Marine Division, and sent to Paris Island, South Carolina, for boot camp. There the new recruits were trained to accept discipline, obey commands, and march in formation. We also learned how to throw hand grenades, use bayonets, and spent hours on the rifle range learning to shoot M1 rifles and Browning automatics. Following boot camp, I was sent to Camp La Jeune, North Carolina, for infantry combat training. Part of the training was making us march 25 or 30 miles at a time. We got tougher every day. My final training was at Camp Pendleton, California, where we were trained to replace troops coming back to the US. We learned to swim and fight in hand-to-hand combat. A popular movie star, Robert Ryan, was a buck sergeant there. He taught our unit how to fight with sticks and knives. Finally, in the Spring of 1945, our unit was assigned to join the 2nd Marine Division in the Marianas Islands. Our first stop was on Guam, then later we were shipped on to Taipan. Our final stop was on the island of Tinian, where the "Enola Gay" was preparing for her historic flight to bomb Hiroshima. Because the US forces had already secured those islands, the living conditions were fairly good. We lived in "rumbleshack" barracks, but we were out of the weather and always had enough to eat. On August 6, 1945, the US dropped an atomic bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. A few days later, a second atomic bomb was exploded over Nagasaki. On August 15, the Japanese surrendered. Still, there was work to be done to secure the peace. Our unit left Tinian onboard an LSM (Landing Ship Material) transport ship. We were each issued a cot and sleeping bag and had to sleep on deck, sometimes in the pouring rain. On September 25, the 2nd Marine Division entered the devastated city of Nagasaki. We were the first Marines to arrive after the bombing. As we entered the harbor at the Mitsubishi shipyards I was sickened by the worst smell I have ever known in my life. It was the smell of dead bodies floating in the harbor, Japanese killed by the bomb. The Japanese army had been waiting for us. In the mountains around the city were perhaps 1,000 coastal guns, all pointing at the harbor. I don’t know how we ever could have landed if they had been shooting at us. Nagasaki was almost empty of people because during the war the Japanese government had told them, "The US Marines are murderers. Before a man is accepted into the Marines, he must kill both his mother and father and eat their flesh." The poor Japanese were so afraid of us that the women and children were all hiding in the mountains. Only a few old people remained. They quickly learned that we weren’t senseless murderers when we began distributing food and clothing. Gradually, the Japanese who were in hiding returned to the ruined city. Our job was to go into the mountains, destroy the coastal guns, and empty the many small warehouses built by the Japanese army. The warehouses were well hidden, each about 5 miles apart from the next one, so that they could not be easily bombed. We drove a "Duck" (land and sea vehicle) and hired a Japanese crew to help us. Each warehouse contained bombs, guns, uniforms, and other military supplies. But most importantly, we found stocks of rations and bolts of cloth that we took back to the air bases for distribution to the Japanese civilians. It was cold – as cold as it gets here in Kansas City – and the people desperately needed food, shelter, and warm clothing. A sight I shall never forget was the burning of the remaining Japanese Betty Bombers and Zeros (the kamikaze planes) on the Obama airfield. The Americans had pushed the planes into a pile almost two stories high and set them ablaze with sticks of high-incendiary fuel. In the end, the brand new planes were nothing more than a pile of smoldering aluminum. Our unit remained in Japan for over a year as part of the occupying army. For much of that time we were housed in a movie theater that had survived the bombing. As we settled into our everyday routines I became friends with a number of Japanese people. We would even watch movies together in the balcony of the theater. A little boy I knew, Toshi Kudzu, was especially fond of American "Westerns," and would bob up and down in his seat next to me, pretending to hold the reins as he dashed across the Texas plains. I was one of several Catholic men in our unit. We all knew that when the atom bomb had dropped over Nagasaki, it had exploded about 500 feet directly over a Catholic church. The church and all the people praying inside had been instantly vaporized. You can imagine our gratitude when the Japanese Bishop of Nagasaki offered to say a weekly Mass for us. He gave the Mass in Latin, which was customary at the time, but would follow with a brief sermon in English for the benefit of the American soldiers. After the service, he would invite us to his home for donuts and coffee. I learned a lot from him about grace and forgiveness. Finally, it was time for the 2nd Marines to leave Japan to be shipped back to the States. Because I was a "Regular Marine," and signed on for a four-year stint, I was assigned to further duty in China as part of "A" Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Marine Division. I remained there about 9 months, often under very hazardous conditions. During the war the Japanese had overrun China. When they left the Chinese Communists began their takeover. The Communists considered us "The Enemy," and ambushed our supply convoys with machine guns and rifles. Many American soldiers were killed in China even after World War Two had officially ended. When my overseas tour of duty ended I was sent back to Camp Pendleton, California. I finished my peacetime army career playing halfback and quarterback on the Army football team. When football season was over, the Marines were not eager to let such a good athlete go. They offered me a full scholarship to Annapolis, and even a chance to be in the Olympic tryouts! But I wanted to go home. It had been a long four years and at times I had thought that it was never going to end. At last, on February 12, 1949, I received my discharge papers, along with six service medals. Arriving in Kansas City I was surprised to see how old my parents had become. When I had left for the war my father didn’t have a gray hair on his head. Now his hair was totally white. Some people say bad things about president Harry Truman and his
decision to use the atom bomb on the Japanese. There were over 400,000 people, mostly
innocent civilians, killed in the blast. But it has been estimated that if we hadn’t
dropped the bomb it might have cost up to 1,500,000 American lives to make Japan
surrender. My company would have been the first Marines to hit the Japanese mainland. When
I remember all those Japanese coastal guns pointed at the harbor, I say that if Harry
Truman were alive today I would kiss his sandals. While serving in the armed forces, I always felt I was doing my job for the people back home. I never wanted them to have to live through what the Americans and Japanese had endured over there. No, I wouldn’t want to go through it all again, but I’m glad I went. The Marines made me tough, and also made me appreciate the freedom and democracy we have today. I’m thankful that Joe and I made it back alive, and I pray for my comrades and all the Japanese who were killed. Unfortunately, all of Mr. Hassman’s war photographs were destroyed in a flood. These priceless images were a treasure to him and would have been an inspiring resource for many World War Two historians. This was a loss for all of us... Permission granted for use by: Frank Hashman © 2001 |
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Frank Hashman