When American soldiers, sailors, and marines were dispatched  into the Pacific Theater of Operations, they moved from island to island recapturing territory held by the Japanese Imperial Forces.  Indigents, often remained in the shadows.  Their lives were seriously interrupted.  They were forced to leave their homes; their homes were often destroyed, and the indigent families had to find shelter and sustenance where they could.

     We landed on an airstrip carved out of the jungle on our way to Biak Island.  The mess hall was situated in a clearing in the jungle and the GI equipment set for the feeding of the troops.  We passed through the line under a large sign: TAKE WHAT YOU WANT. EAT WHAT YOU TAKE. It seemed a typical military order.

     I remember rising from the table, gathering my tray and utensils and carrying them to the proper exit where we were to scrape any remaining scraps into one of two GI garbage cans. One was for soft scraps such as vegetables and the other for bones.

     Two half-naked brown adolescents stood by the cans.  When someone scraped a scrap of meat into the bone can the boys would dive into the soupy, greasy, mess and retrieve scraps of meat, gobble them down and scrutinize the next scraping.

     It was one of my first experiences with indigent children in the South Pacific.

    Children adopted many of the traits of the GI’s.  They adopted a sort of "pigeon English" and could carry on an elementary conversation with their strange, uniformed, swaggering new neighbors.

    GI’s were always looking for souvenirs.  Something to keep and remember with.  One day, some of us were wading in the shallow surf on the shore, picking up sea shells.  Two or three Filipino boys were wading also, gathering shells, which they might trade to Americans for some candy, or other treasure.  One boy said to me, "Cigarette Joe?" All GI’s were called Joe.  I replied "You are too young to smoke".  He offered, "Baby no smoke, Mama Smoke, Cigarette Joe?"

     Anther Philippine lad was standing along the dirt roadway thumbing and trying to catch a ride in an army vehicle.  As the trucks would pass him by we could hear him make this suggestion to each 6 x 6: "Ride Joe?" F--- you, Joe!"  "Ride Joe?" F--- you, Joe!"  We Yankees had taught the indigents our way of talking.

     When we finally landed in Japan, a couple of us borrowed the company jeep and visited what was left of Tokyo.  We went to the Imperial Hotel and there at the elevators were young, kimono-clad young ladies operating the lifts.

     As we boarded the elevator, our young operator bowed low and greeted us with "Oh my aching back!"  Not knowing what she was saying still she was greeting us in that graceful way.

      Our Squadron adopted one young Philippine lad.  He moved with us to Dulag where he stayed with one of our officers, ate at the mess tent, and did some errands for the men.  When we moved on up the Pacific chain of island to invade Japan, we had to send him back to his island home to fend for himself.  I am sure some of our comrades who knew him well have often wondered what became of him.

     War is hell and children are forced to live, struggle and try to survive in the hell of war.

From Gil Hoffman  2001   © 2001

    I am looking for former members of the 3rd Combat Cargo Group,  1st, Combat Cargo Group, 2nd Combat Cargo Group and the 4th Combat Cargo Group.  In fact I would like to hear from anyone who flew over the Hump during WW II, or flew any Combat Cargo Missions at any time (Berlin Air-Lift, Korea, etc.) 

Please e-mail comment, suggestions, corrections,etc to: bill@comcar.org

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