Climbing My Family Tree: WWII

Showing posts with label WWII. Show all posts

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Don B Snyder. Part 9: Army Boxing

Don B Snyder

This is Part 3 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text.]

Don’s story:

Part 9: Army Boxing

I told about boxing on an athletic show. Later I won a golden gloves [boxing title] in Findlay, Ohio. After that, I was a runner-up at a 16 county meeting in Toledo, Ohio. A close decision. Next, I started fighting on the various cards in various towns. These were all ‘main goes’. I won most of them, I think I might have lost two, plus a few draws.

Headline from the Findlay Republican Courier, 1938
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In the army, they started a boxing tournament in the division (12 to 20,000 men). I wasn’t interested as I didn’t have a chance, or so I thought. Another guy in our company was going in on the novice part. I thought “why not?” I had little to lose. We trained at the division headquarters. I saw guys jumping rope beautiful, others hitting the light bag in perfect timing. Boy, did I make a mistake? I could hit the heavy bag, as I had made one at home. They had me work out with one of the guys. He was easy. Another time working out and he wasn’t up to par. I had heard of ‘gym fighters’, looked excellent but couldn’t fight. These fellows came from all over the country.

In the tournament, I fought two guys. Then I fought a guy from Philadelphia. I heard he won the division championship at Madison Square Gardens in New York. I beat him. Later they said two boxers in the other weights didn’t show so we’d have the championships the next week. I had already beat him and I should have been the champion, not so. I said I’d fight him again. This time also, I felt I’d done it again. But he got the title, pictures, etc. I think there was some shenanigans but I don’t know. The enlisted man in charge was from his regiment. I later heard our battalion commander had canceled all passes and marched them all to see me fight.

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Anyways the captain in charge of the team wanted me to still fight with the team against the other camps. I don’t think the champ ever fought after that. Anyways I said ok. McClellan Air Base came to our base to fight. At our camp in Livingston, Louisiana, I stopped mine in the second round. Later we went to their base to fight. I had what the camp paper called an unorthodox style. My style was best for me. I first learned to box as a stand-up fighter, throw a punch, block the others. In-fighting requires one to slip and bob and weave and counterpunch as they were coming in. I was built for in-fighting, as I was short and strong. I had been drinking the night before and felt I shouldn’t fight. I told the captain and he said ok. But he told me to put my trunks on. I asked him why and he said it would look better if we had more boxers. I said to myself “why not, even if I was not fighting?” This is funny. The captain must have had this all planned. When it came to the light weight’s turn he looked at me and said: “O.K. Snyder, get in there.” I said, “no, you said I didn’t need to!” Then he said, “get him, guys.” It must have been planned as four guys picked me up bodily and carried me feet first to the ring and shoved me in with me yelling “no, no!” The crowd was laughing and I thought “what the hell, why not?” So I laughed too and said ok. I wondered later what in the world was my opponent thinking, seeing this. Anyways, he was easy. I clinched with him in the second round and said, “I’m going to deck you in the next round.” The referee must have heard this, as he stopped the fight and raised my hand.

Climbing My Family Tree: Map - Camp Van Dorn, MS

Camp Van Dorn, MS
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The next fight was at Camp Van Dorn, Mississippi. Anyways after the first round there, they asked me “how is he?” I said “easy, he don’t know anything.” Wrong. I seen it coming, but too late. We had clinched and he butted me with his head. There is an artery that is below the eyebrow and his head ruptured it. The blood just gushed out. I clinched with him and my arm slid down his back with the blood. Of course, I couldn’t see and was choking on the blood, as it was running in my mouth. They couldn’t seem to be able to stop it. They then led me to my corner and still couldn’t stop it. From somewhere a doctor showed up and put something cold and sticky on it and the blood stopped running. It must have looked like a slaughterhouse. As for who won, I assumed I did, as a butt is illegal. At the hospital, they stitched it up. They had a young, good-looking guy and were finishing him up. He had stitches all over his face real bad. The blacks and whites were segregated then. I was told he was coming from a movie to his barracks through the black section and they jumped him and really worked him over. We left later but were told the whites drove armored cars through the area and when they would see someone they would jump off and stick him in the rear end with a bayonet. Maybe true, maybe not, but things like that didn’t get put up in the papers. [Camp Van Dorn and its civilian environs were the sites of significant interracial tensions during the WWII years involving African-American troops stationed in a segregated section of the Camp. Both whites and blacks were noted as aggressors in differing incidents. Those tensions manifested as general harassment, fights, excessive discipline, assault, and at least one murder of an African-American serviceman. A book that came out in the 1980's, which was later turned into a documentary, which alleged that 1220 African American troops were murdered at Camp Van Dorn by white servicemen in one night. The Army and the local Congressman conducted an investigation after the book came out, and found no evidence of a wholesale slaughter of troops. This is not to say that none of the other incidents occurred; there were numerous witnesses of the other incidences of racism and harassment and they could not be dismissed.]

That was the end of my fighting in the army as we soon went overseas. After the war, I took up fighting in the various towns in northwestern Ohio. Most all of these fights were main events for me and I did get a few headlines in the papers.

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Don B Snyder, Part 8: Shot in the Leg

Don B Snyder
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This is Part 8 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text.]

Don’s story:

Part 8 – Shot in the Leg

I was shot and became a patient in an old schoolhouse on Bataan. The doctors there operated on my leg. They removed busted bones, tibula and fibula. This shortened my leg a little over an inch. They then put a big cast on up to my hip with a walking iron below. After a few days an ambulance came and took me to a field where a small plane was waiting. It held one stretcher as the left side of the plane was missing. I had my pack on my chest. Twice they put it under my stretcher. When I got to Manilla I found my pack missing. It contained everything I had: money, pictures, letters, souveniers, a Jap flag, etc. I didn’t know the outfit that put me on the plane so they got away with stealing it.

Climbing My Family Tree: Bataan Hospital, after Battle of Corregidor, WWII

Bataan Hospital, after Battle of Corregidor, WWII
By US Army - US Army via L. Morton, US Army in World War II: The War in the Pacific--The Fall of the Philippines,
page 382 (US Army Center for Military History, 1952)

In Manilla the hospital was in a ball park. We had beds where the seats would be. Down on the field were a couple of good sized tents. Every once in a while a whistle would blow and guys would line up. I asked what the hell was going on. I was told that it was the romance ward. I asked what that was and was told it was all guys that got the clap.

Later I was flown to Leyte. In the hospital at Leyte in the Philippines, a hospital ship showed up and everyone was excited. Most all the guys left, I was too sick. One big guy had a back injury and he could walk. The big jerk came over and razzed me because I couldn’t go. They all left except a few of us. In the meantime I got better and was eating etc. One day a nurse and an officer stopped by my bed. She told him how sick I had been but was pretty good now. He looked at me and said “you can go.” I said “where?” and he replied “home.” I looked at him and said “you don’t mean fly, do you,” as I saw he had a set of wings on his blouse. He said, "yes." I could have cried I was so happy.

I do want to tell you about this in all sincerity. They flew me back on a hospital plane to San Francisco. At Moffett Field they put our stretchers on the tarmac. Silly, hardly. It just showed me how much I loved this country and was happy to be back here. In the hospital for five days before leaving for Nashville, the man in the next bed was really down in the dumps. His one leg had been cut off. One day a lady showed up, she tried to cheer him up to no avail. He said “That’s easy for you say, how would you like to be like this?” She said “I am,” then reached down and rapper her leg. She too had a leg off. She then told him he would be able to do most things he used to do. He said “even hunting?” She said “sure.” He was like a different man. Smiley and all that.

While we were recuperating in a ward we all got along just fine. On inspection one day the two officers went bunk to bunk checking out what we had etc. There was a nice guy next to me that had a thumb that wouldn’t bend. I heard the doctors commenting on what was wrong with it but they couldn’t agree. He left our ward the next day. I met him in the hall one time and he had a bandage on his hand. I asked him what it was and he said they didn’t know so they cut it off.

Hospital Plane

They flew us to Nashville, but we stopped for fuel in Amarillo, Texas. A major, patient, could walk. Seemed like a nice fellow, got off the plane to stretch his legs as a big fuel truck pulled up in front of the plane. I looked out the window and saw him walk under the wing forward. I couldn’t see much of the truck. Pretty soon I saw a commotion and an ambulance pull up. He had stumbled as the truck pulled up and it ran over his head. Of course it killed him and we went off without him.

I had bad connections at Lima and somehow I got a ride to the city limits. Cars would pass me slow, smile and wave and keep on going. “Gee,” I thought, “here I am in uniform with a big cast on, with ribbons and crutches and they wouldn’t pick me up.” I finally realized, gas rationing was on and they were only going a little ways. An army nurse stopped and took me to Findlay.

Don (left - had cast on leg) and his brothers: Paul (middle) and Clarence (right - my grandfather)

After I got back from furlough I was walking down the hall on crutches and I looked up and saw the guy with the bad back. He was really surprised to see me and said, “how did you get here?” I said “how did you?”, and he said “our boat just got in.” They had to go down under by the southern route because of the Jap subs. I told him I flew back and already had a 30 day furlough. I thought he turned green with shock.

Monday, April 9, 2018

Don B Snyder. Part 7: The Japs

Don B Snyder

This is Part 7 of a 13-part blog series sharing my Grand-uncle Don’s life story, in his own words, via an autobiography sent to me by Don’s grandson, Ron Oldfield, after Ron stumbled across one of my prior posts about his grandfather. It is shared with the permission of both of Don’s children and Ron Oldfield. [Note – Anything in brackets with green type is my added explanation of something in Don’s text. ]

Don’s story:

Part 7 – The Japs

38th infantry division Avengers of Bataan
Image bought from Veteran Graphics

The trip to the Philippines was uneventful except a Jap plane dropped a bomb that missed us. [Don was a technical sergeant for the 151^st Infantry, 38^th Division.] While in a convoy we almost came close to a floating mine. We were told no lights or cigarettes after dark as the subs could see it a mile away. On our right was a big landing craft with lights all over it. We landed at Tacloban, Leyte. Tents were put up at the beach to hold supplies for when the regiment left for Luzon. I was in charge and a pretty 16-year-old girl was doing my laundry. She always had some younger girls with her. They were always giggling and they would tell me “Bolita” loved me. I asked her and she would say “no!” Later I found out that meant yes at first. One day she asked me to go to her village with her. I said no, then I thought “why not?” She was pretty with a nice shape. These people were the evacuees from the Japs. To get there we had to wade up a couple creeks and a couple of trails. When we got there the men folks were real nice to me. I found out they recognized me as they, 200 men, worked for me putting up the tents. She then said why not spend the night there. I had to think about it and asked her if she would sleep there in a hut with me, she said yes. I asked, “will we be alone?” She said no. I said, “who else?” She said nine others. These men had big bolo knives and I got to thinking, said goodbye and went back. Had quite a time in the creeks but made it. On getting back I found orders had changed and we moved 30 miles north. There I got another surprise. Being the only weapons platoon sergeant in the battalion headquarters I was picked to lead a four-day patrol. Go in a square for hunting Japs. I felt it was quite an honor. I picked out 10 men, loaded up with rations etc., and started out. They said the Japs were starving and weak. Yeah, I thought, how much strength does it take to pull a trigger, and I would be the front man. The training was that the leader was back aways to control things and he would send out a couple of scouts in front. I never recognized that idea and would be in front. Hadn’t went 30 feet when a Jeep drove up honking its horn. Said to come back as we were all moving out. I was kind of glad (yeah) to hear that but I really did want to do it.

On to the Philippines. We made a landing at San Felipe on Luzon, just north of Subic Bay. Fought a bad one at Zig Zag Pass. We relieved, I think, the 42^nd Division. It was a sight everyone would remember. As they moved out we were moving in. Men walking slowly, occasionally stopping then moving on. Guys with bandages all over, arm slings, head, etc. Jeeps had wounded guys on the hoods and any place they could. I saw one big 6x6 truck. On each fender was a guy that sort of looked dazed. I looked back and saw bodies. I asked him, “are they all dead?” He nodded yes, as it moved on I saw bodies piled up five or six feet high, filling the truck. As we moved forward I was in a Jeep and at one time I looked over and saw two men standing there. One of them yelled out “hi Sarge.” To my surprise, they were two men that had been in my platoon when I was in C-Company. They were nice guys, good soldiers and it was good to see them. We talked a bit and I had to leave them as our column moved on. A couple of hours later I heard that a shell killed both of them. You often hear rumors and wonder if they are true. I think that most of them are. This Zig Zag Pass was the only road to Manila from Olongapo and was very important. It had been fortified by us before the war. One high ranking officer said it could be defended till Hell froze over. The road went up the mountain with mostly curves. The Japs had their fields of fire without being seen. Then there were big caves that they would crawl out of and fire on you. I heard the regiment that we relieved had about 1600 casualties. We had about the same. After we withdrew to make a landing on Bataan we encamped with our artillery. We had 103 guns firing constantly day and night on the Japs. Our platoon had one Jeep and three big 6x6 trucks, plus our three anti-tank guns each weighing one and three-quarter tons. I had the platoon trucks pick up cases of ammunition and hand grenades. This with our own 57 mm shells. It was like three big bombs. I always had guards with them, but our battalion commander said he had guards all around us and we didn’t need to. Later, a Jeep was traveling around the area and no one paid any attention to it. Later, this was after dark, and we were asleep, there was a hell of an explosion. Our center truck was burning in the cab. Bullets were popping off from the fire, while we thought it was from the Japs. We got the fire out and someone told me to check the barrels. I reached around the shield and my hand fell on hot jagged steel, no barrels. There was a guard close by who said he heard a pop and thought he saw someone running away. Our artillery had been firing constantly day and night at them and some of them were in shock. They probably thought our guns were artillery pieces. I thought it was stupid us being there in the first place. We were in a flat place with wooded hills all around us. The Japs were probably watching our every move. What happened was that they put primer cord connecting each barrel and the cab of the center truck, after stuffing our guns. Primer cord is about ½ to ¾ inch cord. Inside is TNT. It all goes off instantly. In the morning I wondered now what. Well, we were supposed to get out on Subic Bay for an attack on the tip of Bataan Penninsula and Corregidor. Luckily, we got three guns and trucks from division and went to Subic Bay. OK, after being in those foxholes the water was warm, etc. and a few of us on our landing craft went swimming. It sure did feel good. I hollered up to a sailor “why don’t you come in?” He replied, “Not me, this bay is full of sharks and barracuda.” It didn’t take us long to get out of the water, that’s for sure. That night we left Subic Bay for the landing at Corregidor and Mariveles. I got seasick during the night as the landing craft pitched and rolled. I thought “ye gods, what a time to get sick.” However, I felt O.K. when daylight came. [See U. S. Army 38th Division Soldiers Land at Mariveles Philippine Islands WW2 Footage Feb 15, 1945, YouTube video, HERE. It's very impressive.]

I don’t want to get into war stories, but this was spectacular. The Navy had ships as far as the eye could see. A cruiser and a destroyer made a rolling barrage covering the hill at the tip of Bataan, then Corregidor about three miles across the bay. There was little or no action as we went ashore at Mariveles on the tip of Bataan. The town had been leveled by bombs, except for one building. I did pass a statue erect, of an angel. It already had a pasteboard sign on it, “got a cigarette bud?” We stayed a few days at what had been the town. It was a beautiful day and we watched as the Liberator bombers passed over the island. Covering the top of the island with flame then came the 11^th Airborne paratroopers. They landed on top of the hill. Others weren’t so fortunate, as they hit the side of the cliff, and a few came down in the water. I saw boats picking them up, then small landing crafts brought back bodies. Army wrapped in blankets, and Airborne in red (supply) parachutes. At night some Japs would try to swim over, hanging on a log or whatever. Some made it and we took care of them our way. Some guys would go out in landing crafts the next day and have target practice. Sounds cruel? Well, war is cruel, but the Japs had it coming to them. We then went up the road towards the mainland. This was the road called “The Bataan Death March”. They took thousands of prisoners from Corregidor and marched up this road, no water or food. If you dropped you got bayoneted, shot, or had your head bashed in with a rifle. Thousands died. I went to Mariveles once and saw a lot of graves and a wire fence about 15 feet across. In a circle inside were about six or eight Japs squatting on their haunches, and they didn’t look happy. There was a gate on the fence and it was wide open with a guard sitting on a chair with an automatic rifle on his lap. He was from our company and I asked him why the gate was open. He smiled, patted his rifle and said: “I just hope they try to make a break of it”. They wasn’t about to try it.

We had a division paper come out. At the top, it said in big letters “Kill the Bastards,” and would probably say 161 or whatever Japs were killed and prisoners maybe two or three. At the bottom in small print, “Take 'em prisoners.” We needed them for information. I saved one Jap. I had been out looking for them. I just got back when I saw a commotion. A Jap came out on the road holding up a leaflet saying in English “I surrender,” and other words to be humane. On the back, it was in Japanese, the same. We had them dropped by planes. All the guys were hollering “shoot him, shoot him,” and a couple of guys was about to do it. I stopped them. He was small, skinny, and terrified, probably starving. As much as I hated them I couldn’t help being sorry. I gave him a cigarette and a chocolate bar. He was so scared he couldn’t use either one of them. I got a Jeep, figured “who would do as I said?” and picked out a guy and sent them back to Mariveles. To this day I’m glad I did. But at the same time, I was surprised that I did that.

Two more stories. The Japs on Corregidor were in big caves that we had made. It was difficult getting them out. I have a picture from “Yank” magazine showing a landing craft at the beach with barrels of oil in pipe running off the landing craft up to a cave. They poured it in and threw in a TNT charge. Boom, no more Japs to shoot at. Also a picture of Fort Drum up the coast aways. It was a round cement fortification that went down pretty deep. On the top of it was a round steel cover about five or six inches thick and five or six feet across. We had built it before the war and the Japs took it over. Every time our landing craft approached it they would fire through port holes that were about six feet higher than the landing craft. What to do? They built a platform on top of the craft in the front. As they approached it, they had continuous machine guns firing at it and they had to go down inside. Our troops got on top, poured fuel oil or gasoline down in it and set off a charge. It was so powerful the Yank picture showed that heavy iron cover about 30 feet in the air. This made good Japs out of them.

Climbing my family tree: By US Army - US Army via L. Morton, US Army in World War II: --TPublic Domain,

Welcome to Bataan
Public Domain.
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Once we were on the road and passed a dead Jap officer, laying on his back as if he were asleep. His uniform was immaculate so he must have been high in rank. A couple of my guys fired shots at him. I made them stop. As much as I hated them I couldn’t help but wonder of the shock his family would have if they could have seen him.

We moved up the coast near Balanga, the capital of Bataan. At Pilar, I met some natives that had their homes in Balanga. They said they had to move as they were near the city jail and couldn’t stand the screams of the people being tortured all night by the Japs. This may sound morbid to some, but to us it was real, you or them.

Only one more story. I had heard this before about Japs throwing babies up in the air and stabbing them with a bayonet. Hard to believe, but I talked to people that seen two Japs walking and as a woman carrying a baby approached, one grabbed the baby out of her arms, threw it in the air, and stabbed it with their bayonet and laughed. They were so shocked that I couldn’t help believe them. One time a customer came in my barbershop. He was a little old. Said he had a store kind of like Kmart in Manilla. He was Chinese but came to the Philippines when he was 12 years old. He had raised ten children, put them all through college, had two children in Toledo that were professionals. I liked him real well and he seemed to like me also. We were pretty frank with each other. I commented once that I truly believed that Asians were naturally cruel. He laughed and said not so. Then he replied, “we went to Europe once, visited Spain, Italy, Switzerland, then visited Buchenwald and Auschwitz concentration camps.” He had me there, so I said I don’t know about that. Then we changed the subject as he made his point.

There is one more story I really don’t want to tell but I think I should. Each night we were in our foxholes we would wonder (at least I did) if we would make it through the night as the Japs would move into our area. Well, I’ve heard of guys praying, but I just couldn’t do it, much as I wanted to. I felt it was hypocritical. I felt bad at this as I wasn’t a Christian, although I believed in god. Anyways, on patrol, we got surrounded by machine guns. We didn’t think we would make it. Our radioman was busting up his radio so the Japs wouldn’t get it. The chaplain said he was tuned in to heaven. We would laugh a bit. No one looked scared, but I feel sure we all were. Pygmies lived in those mountains and we had two for guides. They knew a way down the cliff and we all made it except for one young Filipino who was killed by the Japs. I’ll never forget the wailing of his wife when she was told he was still up there. It was very dangerous going down that cliff as the way down was only about 3’ wide twisting and turning. The cliff was maybe 75 to 100’ down. I went along for the ride so to speak, but if I was in charge I would have went down the slope as I didn’t think the Japs had gotten that far and we could have brought the Filipino home. One of our guys went crawling up to the two Japs we had shot and cut off their ears looking for souvenirs. After that, I wondered what the Japs did to the Filipinos. I had been out looking for Japs that had made it swimming over from Corregidor when I bumped into this nut. I was told later that he was on patrol when they came across several Japs in a field. They tried to get away and he ran after them disregarding his sergeant’s order to come back. Then Japs hidden on each side of the open field shot and killed him. I wonder what became of his souvenirs.

After that, I got to thinking. The chaplain had a short service which I attended and I felt after that, I deserved to the right to pray and I told God if he would bring me home I would never deny him and would always pray. Well, I’m home and feel he had something to do with it, and I still pray.

One thing about the Filipinos, they were a happy people, despite the misery the Japanese did to them. I became friendly with a young lady with two children, a girl, 11, and a boy, eight. Her husband had been killed by the Japs. The kids and I would go to a nearby water hole, shoo out the water buffalo and go swimming. If it got dark I’d go back to camp, a little risky. There seemed to be two kinds of guerrillas. One group dedicated to kill Japs, the other seemed to avoid them. When the Japs were in the villages, they were in the mountains. When the Japs were driven out by us, they came to the villages and exploited the people. If it was dark, I’d walk down the street with the safety on my Tommy gun. I figured if they shot at me I’d get several of them before I’d hit the ground. Fortunately, that didn’t happen as I might have killed some civilians, too.

Climbing my Family Tree: Avengers of Bataan banner

Avengers of Bataan banner
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One other thing that was funny. We moved into an area where there was an ammo dump about 10 feet high and 20 feet square. I assigned the squads where they should be. The next day I heard talk of a woman screaming. I finally found out. A Sergeant Tonkin, 6’2” 220 pounds, thought he should move the squad to a safer place against my order. The Japs moved at night, so if we saw something move we would shoot. The sergeant (dummy) thought if he went quickly man to man he could tell them to move without being shot. Carbino was a guy that was sort of a gentle man and was laying on his back, thinking of home. Of course, the Japs could crawl in his foxhole (slit trench). Tonkin jumped Carbino, the kind of sissy guy figured it was a Jap. He grabbed his rifle and took hold of the barrel and slammed the stock into Tonkin’s head. Tonkin went down on his knees, Carbino pulled out his trench-knife and was coming down with it when Tonkin screamed. He went back to his slit trench and stayed there. I was going to chew him out but I thought he had enough trouble.

It might be of interest, guerillas (the good ones) had their leader in a tent next to our headquarters. We had a Jap that wouldn’t talk. The chief next door asked if they could have him, we agreed. A couple of our guys witnessed this. Two guys held bamboo clubs about three feet long and three inches thick. They went to work on the guy and he was very happy to talk, in fact, he told them everything.

Climbing My Family Tree

Pages 2

Pages 1

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Don B Snyder. Part 9: Army Boxing

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Don B Snyder, Part 8: Shot in the Leg

Monday, April 9, 2018

Don B Snyder. Part 7: The Japs

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