After recruit training in San Diego, California (where I learned how to wash my own clothes, make my own bed, be in uniform and "ready to go" by 5 A.M., march-in-step with a bunch of other guys plus a lot of other personal things that have helped me to this day),   I was assigned to a Navy transport ship for transfer to Shanghai, China.   I arrived there in the Spring of 1940 and became a member of A Company, 1st Battalion, 4th marines.   The 4th Marines was originally an American Expeditionary force sent to China to protect American interests during China's Boxer Rebellion.   After peace was restored, the Marine Regiment was kept there to "fly the American flag".   That means that we would perform at ceremonies, stand guard at bridges which separated the International Settlement from the Japanese Army, do drills and practices that kept us marines fit and ready to engage in conflict as a regiment, if necessary.

That was a great duty for the young men, like myself.   We received $21.00 a month as a private and, then, that was a lot of money.   The American Marines in Shanghai enjoyed a wonderful reputation and were allowed liberties and privileges that could "kinda spoil an ordinary person".   We had 'houseboys' to do our bidding and our food was fit for royalty.

A year and a half after I got there, our regiment was told that war with Japan was possible and that we would be sent to the Philippine Islands to join the other American forces, there - just in case.   Well, the war was engaged 2 weeks after we landed in the Philippines and I immediately started to ask myself "What am I doing here?"   But, there I was .. and there was nothing else to do, but do my job and say some occasional prayers.

Within a short time our regiment was told that it would be sent out into Manila Bay to occupy the island fortress called Corregidor to become it's beach defense to defend the island against any landings by the Japanese.   On Corregidor, because of it's many big guns, cannons, mortars, anti- aircraft, etc., plus 2 miles of open water between us and the mainland which was the Bataan Peninsula, we began to feel pretty lucky that we didn't have to be over there - on the Bataan Peninsula and sorry for the poor guys who did.

The very next day our 'bubble was burst' as one flight after another of high flying Japanese bombers made a direct assault over the island lasting for about 2 hours.   In the course of that raid we marines went from feeling rather smug about the whole thing to the terrible, truth that "this was not drill"; this was WAR.   Now, our lives were just as threatened as any other American's, anywhere else.   We lost three men that day and had quite a few wounded.

To make a long story short, we learned that one heavy bombing attack does not destroy all that's in the ground.   The Japanese would have to make many more hazardous flights over "the rock" (our name for Corregidor) before they would ever come close to rendering it defenseless.   But that day did come and after six months of sleeping in foxholes enduring constant shelling and bombing attacks, it was our turn to experience hunger, sickness, exhaustion and nerves frayed to the limit.   We knew that they were creeping ever closer, ever closer to us.

The Japanese attempted their landing on the night of May 5th, 1942 and they made it on the end of the island which was close to my own defense position.   Our officers in the area assembled 100 of the able bodied men and negotiated us to a point where we made contact with attacking Japs.   At that point we formed a skirmish (or defense) line and all during the night both sides rained weapons fire on each other.   Shortly after daylight, as I crouched behind a small pile of bricks firing my rifle, along with the other marines on either side of me, I suddenly felt a terrible pain to the left side of my body and realized I'd been shot.   I yelled for a medic and was told that there was one about 30 yards away.   Bleeding profusely, I was able to run to where the medic was, in the shelter of the building's foundation.   He put a large gauze dressing on the wound and told me to go on back to the field hospital, about a mile away.   When I finally got here (the hospital was in a tunnel) I was operated on and put in a hospital bed.

The casualties in the hospital were left alone by the Japanese officers who were part of the invasion force.   As a patient was healed enough to be released from the hospital, he would be placed in a work detail at some point on the island.   By the time I was healed, the main body of "prisoners" who were my buddies, had been removed to Manila so I was joined with a work detail of about a hundred other Americans.

Without going into detail about the treatment received, I will relate that, as a POW, I stayed on Corregidor for a year (removing scrap metal).   I was at Clark Field for another year (working on the runway and building revetments to protect their aircraft from shrapnel).   I was shipped to Japan the third year on a Hell Ship called the "Noto Maru" and was working in a copper mine in northern Japan as the war ended.

My weight at time of repatriation was 89 lbs.   I had a tropical ulcer on my left shin which the rescuing Americans treated with raw penicillin.   I had a broken jaw from being hit by the Jap guard's fist and I would later find that my spine had been damaged when I was struck on the back with a shovel.   (these were called "disciplinary measures").

Being rescued by the Americans and returned to the United States is very hard to put into words.   There really are no words to express how I felt.   This I knew - I was sure proud to be an American!   PROUD from that day to this day!