Minerd.com Memoir: World War II Through a Porthole, Part 4, by James Melvin Younkin

World War II
Through a Porthole

Last of a 4-Part Series - A Memoir of Wartime By James Melvin Younkin Edited By His Daughter, the Late Diana (Younkin) Egan

Last month: Mel alternately mans a 20mm anti-aircraft gun; survives an explosion of bootleg raisin whiskey; and sees GIs die in four days of heavy action invading Saipan.

The Marines' campaign was not finished, but just starting. After Saipan, it was Tinian for us. We landed the Marines on this small island, and were surprised that there was none of the typical bombing from the shore to greet us. On Saipan there had been Japanese battlewagons and heavy cruisers that sent lots of bombs our way.

That evening the troops were all coming back. I asked a Marine what it was like. He said it was a pushover, no living Japanese on the island; just one dog. Returning troops had souvenirs from the former Japanese Island. I talked a couple of the Marines out of some of the loot in their stuffed packs.

A Japanese post office had been blown up, and I managed to get some Japanese newspapers, letters and several other items, which I still have. After a few days underway, the captain said, "Men, in a day or two we have another landing to make." And soon, we were at it again. The date was June 27, 1944. This landing took two weeks, and it was not as easy as the last one.

It was the small island of Roi-Namur. Admiral Hill was in charge of the assault. Again, the troops spent a few days securing the small island, then we sent the other materials and men ashore. After that, it was back to Pearl Harbor for some good old shore duty. We were in Pearl Harbor from July 20 to August 12, 1944.

After a few days of liberty in Honolulu, we forgot about the war. On the morning of August 12 the captain told us to cast off our lines; we still had work to do in the South Pacific. How true that was.

Gaudalcanal was our destination. We took aboard another landing party and all their equipment. On the morning of September 15 we were sending the troops ashore on the island of Palau. All ships and landing parties were well protected by the Fifth Fleet. The Japanese air base and planes on the island were destroyed by a surprise attack by U.S. Navy planes. It took ground troops five days to secure the island, leaving October 18.

On October 20 we were in the Leyte Gulf, Philippines. It was taken over in one day -- a job well done. We helped clear the way for General MacArthur to dramatically return as he had promised.

We then went to Guam to have some liberty and clean up the ship. While at anchor in the harbor of Guam I was surprised when a signalman from a submarine tender sent a message. "There is some damn fool on the submarine tender who wants to talk to you," he told me.

My buddy Bob Staley had been transferred a few months before to a different ship, and I had lost track of him. Our ship signaled back to let the sailor come aboard, and it was none other than Bob. He wanted me to come over with him and go out in the submarine, leaving at 4:30 a.m.

"Sure you can," Staley said. "All we have to do is find Bisek and ask him for permission."So we did.

The sub was in port for repairs, and we got to go along for the test run. We would crash dive to 200 feet, come up fast and perform other tests.

We also watched a movie, "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn." We ate lunch at 400 feet below sea level.

On the way into port that evening a pilot in a small plane dove into the harbor. We were close by and brought him aboard. I think this was the first and last time he flew a plane. The newspaper recounted this dramatic rescue with the headline, "Sub Wins Race to Retrieve Downed Pilot."

I wrote my mother all the time that I was in the service. I always let her know where I was by using former girlfriend's names as codes to the islands I was on. "Tell May hello," meant I was on Guam, for example.

While in Samoa, my mother wrote to me and told me to look up Daryl Parsons, who was in the Marines, also stationed in Samoa. He was from my hometown of Wenatchee, Washington. She thought that all personnel in the service would know each other. I looked all over among the hundreds of Marines stationed in Samoa for good old Daryl.

One place I looked every day was a bridge over the spot where native girls swam. There were lots of gawking servicemen, but not Daryl. I never did see him in Samoa.

Manus of the Admiralty Islands was our next stop. There were still many Japanese there. But the well-seasoned American troops had no problem securing the island. We had our landing parties back aboard in no time. They said they needed some help back at Leyte Gulf, so that's where we took them, leaving November 24, 1944.

We spent most of the winter of 1944-1945 in the Philippines, transporting troops from Luzon to Leyte and back. In April we took Marines to Okinawa after the bloody battle on Japan's doorstep. May of 1945 we were still traveling around the south Pacific, Espiritu Sano in New Hebrides and Guam. Our ship was getting tired, and so were we, so we steamed to Seattle for some repairs and relaxation.

The Skipper, E.M. Doar, Jr. came from the traditional military philosophy. He liked a big ceremony. He thought he ran a "tight ship" and wanted the crew to look sharp and be sharp. We tried to be sharp, just for the good ol' skipper.

June 1945 found us in port in Seattle, Washington. The skipper wanted to visit his family, and he needed a driver. Who else, but me, that good old Washington boy.

"You are the guardian of the ship vehicle," the skipper told me. "Take the jeep over to the motor pool and trade it for something else." So I went over to the Navy motor pool.

"I need a good vehicle for Captain Doar," I told the Chief. "He wants to trade this jeep for something more comfortable." I left the motor pool with a beautiful new Ford station wagon and two 50-gallon barrels of gasoline. I drove the station wagon back to the dock and showed it to the skipper, who was pleased. His family had joined him in Seattle for leave.

"Now, take me home at 5 p.m. and pick me up at 8 a.m. sharp, not before, not after," he told me. Assigned to shore duty, I had lots of time, a vehicle and gasoline to run around Seattle.

I stayed with friends, the Tansings, and put the barrels of gasoline in their garage for storage. It was the kind of duty every sailor dreams of. Ten years later I visited the Tansings and found there was still about 20 gallons in one of the barrels in the garage.

We were relieved when the Japanese surrendered in August 1945. I was still in the Pacific Northwest. We were in between Seattle and Portland, Oregon when we heard the good news. When we got to the mouth of the Columbia, we signaled for a pilot to take us up the Columbia. There was no pilot, so he gave an announcement over the public address system. "Is there anyone with knowledge on the Columbia River?" A friend of mine, Bruce Keil, went up to the captain and said he knew the river. He used to run a tugboat up the Columbia. So he took the ship up the Columbia to Portland.

When we got to the docks, there was no one to receive our line -- everyone was out celebrating "Victory over Japan" day. He had to put a boson mate on the dock to receive our line. We tied up and went to sleep. We knew the war was over with.

Duty was not over for our transport ship, however. We went to Hawaii, then Marshall Islands, Saipan, Iwo Jima and Guam, picking up servicemen who wanted a ride home. In October 1945, we were still doing ferry detail.

After the war was over, the men were anxious to see their loved ones back in the States. As we transported troops home, I saw another opportunity to earn money. Dennis Coleman, a friend of mine, set up a makeshift "dental practice" in one room. When a man would come onto the ship we would look at his teeth and say, "Gawd, man, your teeth look terrible! You don't want to go home looking like that. Now, right on board we have a dentist who will clean those right up for you." For just two dollars each, the Marines and soldiers got to see Dennis who would run a little pumice over their front teeth. This must have made them feel much better.

The last port was San Pedro. I was discharged from active duty in November 1945. Now, I was headed home.

All during the war I had sent money to my mother when I could, and she put it in the bank for me. I was surprised when I got home to find that my "investments" had increased to a sizable amount. I used the nest egg to buy property for an orchard and build a new home. Though I went back to raising fruit, I never forgot the things I saw and experienced.