How do I find
some one that may have seen any of this?
A particular event occurred
during the Iwo Jima invasion that this veteran is seeking
answers for. Below is a short story of Bill Newbauer's
experience during D-Day+1 (20 February 1945) that took
place. He is seeking answers. He is attempting to reach out
to someone who was there and witnessed what happened below.
If you can assist in his search, please contact this web
master.
One old
sailor needs help, witnesses!
"I was on the U.S.S.
President Jackson (APA-18), an engineer on a L.C.V.P., at
Iwo (Jima). This small boat landed a fire control Jeep and a
couple Marines at what was "Red Beach" at one time. This
Jeep was upset in our boat, we came through it all right, I
only lost my small machine gun in the drink. It was loaded
once more, very rough seas, and we headed to and down the
beach until called in. No beach party, this was on the 20th
(of February), we held in position with the screws and
rudder. The jeep got off, don't know how far--- we broached
and the screw picked up a floating line, all power gone!
Some how I and the two others made it to shore. I don't
recall any names at all, I know it happened, I can't find
any witnesses, I was behind the bowdoors of a craft, I think
a L.S.M., until the next afternoon when I got a tow back to
the Jackson. I had one shark knife and I was scared, I saw a
lot of the stuff on the beach, now like a nightmare. How do
I find some one that may have seen any of this?"
Webmaster's note: A few days
ago, after spending the last month or so playing catch-up
with regards to the three web sites that I manage, due to a
crash of my external hard drive containing five years of
research materials pertaining to this web site as well as
two Civil War web sites, I came across an entry in the World
War II Guest Book. This Guest Book entry led to the
following follow-up story as dictated by Bill Newbauer to
his son Steven. The following story is very interesting and
moving reading. I highly recommend it!
Many THANKS Bill and Steven
Newbauer!
In His Own
Words
The following is a
composition my dad made up a few years ago which he
titled...
"It's about my little part in the big
war":
The following isn't meant to
be a "Blood and Guts" type of story, there was some
witnessed in close proximity, some of this will be mentioned
as I try to recall the names and places I was a witness to.
I got into the Navy by being a "Selective Volunteer", not
too many of us around, I wasn't drafted, in fact, the draft
board didn't know if I would be called or not. They even
made a phone call to the Selective Service Headquarters to
try to find out but they had no definite answer. I had a few
deferments because of my job and being married, with one
child and my age bracket wasn't being drafted at that time.
I was told that if I volunteer I could pick the Navy, be in
for the duration plus, I found out later what the plus was
and that I would not have been drafted, too late! I turned
down my latest deferment, got my severance pay and did the
volunteer thing. A physical in Auburn, Indiana and soon I
was on my way to Indianapolis to be sworn in plus a lot more
physicals, tests and soon I was on my way to Great Lakes
Naval Training Center near North Chicago. I began a new life
which I had problems adjusting to, at least for a few weeks.
This is something you wouln't wish on your worst enemy (if
you had one). I was in a six weeks company, kept very busy
all of this time. I was glad of that. We stripped down to
just a smile or a sneer, whichever, put all of our
belongings in a cardboard pre-addressed box, ran around bare
for half a day, finally got some Navy clothes. I broke my
glasses putting on a 'blouse'. I didn't wear any glasses the
rest of the time I was in the Navy. I soon learned what
really being insignificant was, what hate and mistrust was.
These people dealt it all out. We drilled, marched, had
calesthenics until some of the guys couldn't do any more. I
made out somehow. I wasn't the best athlete at that time in
my life. We swam a lot. I liked to swim and dive. We jumped
from towers into the water to simulate getting off of a ship
in an emergency situation. We learned to use clothing for
life preservers (entrapping air in them) and swam the length
of the pool underwater. This was training for the event of
having to escape an area of burning oil or fuel floating
atop the water. Each day was filled with the above plus
classes, watches to stand in the area buildings, and good
ol' KP duty. This was a long day. We had to get up in the
night, dress and drill for hours, another sort of punishment
when someone had made a mistake and we all paid for it. With
all the hatred I had I began to shape up. I almost enjoyed
it!
These punishments went on all
day too. If a man did something and really messed up, he was
forced to drill with full gear, rifle and sometimes with his
hat in his mouth if he had talked to get the punishment in
the first place. This drilling went on for hours, usually
the guy would collapse, you didn't help him as if you did
you would take his place! I saw two men die from this sort
of punishment. It does weed out the unfit and the weak! The
six weeks finally rolled by and we were no longer "boots".
We were given a few days leave during which time I went
home, of course. The time went so fast. I was soon back at
Great Lakes and was selected to go to Basic Engineering
School. This lasted about a month. I didn't really learn
much. It was like a refresher course of what I learned at
the specialist school in Fort Wayne. This school was put in
my records which helped later as I was assigned to groups
with similar backgrounds. I ended up with a nice bunch of
guys which was a welcome change. This group was supposed to
go to a diesel and gasoline engine school on the East coast,
but a storm took down a lot of the buildings so the plans
were changed and we were sent to Camp Shoemaker, California,
up in the mountains. This ended up as a place to stay until
more changes were made in our orders. The guys were broken
up once more. We had more serious calesthenics, rough
workouts, hikes, and anything to keep us in shape. It was
very cold at night and hot in the daytime. We were all
rounded up, put in a stockade and locked in. This was with
all of our gear so I figured this was some sort of final
move. At night we were loaded on a Navy bus. It was not the
large group I started out with, probably only about a dozen
of the bunch that I got to know a little. We were taken to a
pier in Oakland, mustered in and marched around to the far
side. There she was ... my first ship, the President
Jackson, all camouflaged, loaded with landing craft and she
had lots of guns all over. As this was my new home I went up
the gangway, saluted as I should and was escorted to a
partial deck above the forward end of the mess hall. This
would be my "room" for a week or so, living out of my sea
bag once more. Finally I was assigned a rack in the aft end
of the ship and a locker about 40 feet away., but at least
the "head" (toilet) was very near by. I was right by the
hatch opening into it. There was no welcoming committee on
this ship, only an order to follow a first class machinist
mate below to the boiler room.
|
Officers of the
USS President Jackson
Click on Image for Larger View
|
This is quite an experience.
Very soon I was told that this was where I would be assigned
as a watertender, striker, to advance to a Machinist's Mate
Third Class Petty Officer. I stood a trial watch and was
shown my jobs to do. These people were not really the best
of teachers. At this time the ship needed only one of her
boilers in operation and only three burners in use. I caught
on to the job rapidly and also the routine of living each
day, touring the ship on my own. So far so good. The first
task I had was as the ship was moved from the dock at
Oakland to one at Hunters Point, farther south, to have some
work done on some steam lines and newer radar screens added
topside. My job was to run up two decks to see how far we
were from the pier so that we would know when to shut down
unnecessary burners. My judgement must have been good, after
a few fast trips topside we made it alongside the dock and
tied up without popping any safety valves or losing any
flame in the firebox. We left the States with a sister ship,
the President Adams, with a blimp for an escort to watch for
subs. We zigzagged towards Hawaii, picking up a couple LSMs
for escorts fo the trip. Not much happened at this spot. We
anchored in Pearl Harbor. I was off the ship one day during
which I took a trip to downtown Honolulu, mostly just
looking around. The place was full of servicemen. Most of
them were drunk and loud. We tied up at a pier next to a
Russian freighter which had big buxom women sailors on deck
doing the usual work topside. The Jackson and the Adams left
Pearl Harbor with two smaller landing type craft for escort.
They were out of sight in the swells most of the time. We
headed for Noumea, New Caledonia east of Australia. Enroute
we crossed the International Date Line and the Equator at
about the same time which meant the usual initiation which
lasted a couple of days longer than normal. Nothing about
this can be considered normal and this crew pushed the
capers to the limit. The captain finally put a stop to the
proceedings and we got back to the normal routine. Each day
the work was done, the watches were "stood" and the meals
were served. And we had General Quarters day and night and
all hands had to man their assigned battle stations when not
actually on watch. The guns were manned and very little
sleep was had. We anchored out from the shore at
Noumea.
The ship's boats were put to
use doing all sorts of delivering and hauling troops to be
put aboard the Jackson and the Adams. These men seemed to be
all rated and an elite bunch, mostly tehnicians, probably
engineers and gunnery people. I never did find out, but our
job was to put them on New Guinea which we did. We also
unloaded supplies, ammunition and a few trucks to haul them
inland. We stood by for a day then headed in a northerly
direction on up to Guam which was taken at that time
although it was still under some battle conditions in the
jungles to the west. We had another journey to make, we
loaded up a few hundred troops and went farther east to
Guadelcanal. This was to refuel and take on supplies. We
spent one Christmas tied up there. Soon we headed back west
and farther north to Leyte Gulf in the Philippines where one
of the larger landings in the Pacific was in progress. We
stood by and made smoke to shield ships in the area. The
naval battle was north of us but the Jap planes were out in
force with day and night bombings and suicide planes all
around. The gulf was full of anti-aircraft projectiles,
tracers and explosions up in the sky where the planes were
coming in from the land. My General Quarters station was as
the "talker" on one of the gun mounts. The battle conditions
improved in a couple of days and we pulled out to go west
through channels, some of them so shallow we had to take
soundings from small boats to get through safely. Finally we
made it to the China Sea and headed north once more past
Manila and Corregidor where the battle was still being
fought. Our mission was to get the troops we had aboard
father north to Lingayen Gulf in Luzon. We entered the Gulf
and anchored at the south end of a large bay. The troops
were put ashore, mostly up rivers and to small villages
which we had taken back from the Japs a few days before. Air
attacks continued daily with lots of suicide planes. One
suicide plane took out two LST landing crafts tied up
alongside each other located about a thousand feet from us.
They both were heavily damaged. Big guns in the mountains
kept firing at the bay. We seemed to be lucky as usual as we
had no close hits. You could see those projectiles coming
through the air which was a very scary sight. There was
great relief when we watched them fall short or go over us.
None of them seemed to do much damage. Our planes seemed to
be very lucky too as they flew through thousands of bursting
projectiles in the low sky. We had these air raids daily
while in the bay. While all of this wierd sort of battle was
in progress the routine aboard ship went on as it did each
day.
Whether underway or at
anchorage General Quarters was all day and night. Our
regular watches usually were top priority. The gun crew
could usually be a man short unless we were actually firing.
While serving in the boiler room I developed a bad rash all
over my body. The people in Sick Bay could not do much with
it so I was ordered topside to get some sunshine. This is
how I got into small boats. I had other duties as well like
working in the mess hall part time. I had been made head
mess cook for a week or so and my job was to make sure all
of the cooks helpers were in the mess hall on time. I had to
learn where all of them were quartered and get them up to go
to work on time. The rash I had finally went away but I
stayed topside and assigned to small boats the remainder of
the time I served aboard the Jackson. We left Lingayen Gulf
and headed back south in the China Sea. Each morning more
ships would be in the convoy and now totalled a dozen or so.
The Zeilen was alongside us about 300 yards to our
starboard. This was another period when we were at General
Quarters day and night as enemy subs and planes were all
around us. We dropped "ash cans" from the stern until they
were all gone. A Tojo, Japanese twin engine fighter bomber,
came overhead. We were ordered to hold our fire. A turret on
the Zeilen opened up firing and the tracers which were like
a ribbon going out from the ship were used by the plane to
lead it right to the ship. The gun turret was fired upon and
all of the crew was hit or blown over the side. The plane
went two decks down exploding all the way. Twelve men were
killed or lost. The ship slowed to a stop to get organized.
The whole convoy slowed to about ten knots until the raid
was over but kept moving south. The next day the dead were
buried at sea. Then we proceeded at 15 knots to the southern
part of the Philippines again. The convoy broke up and the
Jackson went east to Guam once more. In about a week we
loaded up a few hundred troops, trucks and armored vehicles.
It looked like another landing coming up for sure. At Tinian
we took on fuel then went in a northerly direction. In a day
or so the engineers and boat crews were called to assemble
on the starboard promenade deck. Some officers were handing
out information concerning where we were bound. They had a
topographical map of an island shaped like a
pear.
It was a volcanic peak
jutting up through the ocean. The main flow went northeast
to form the wide portion of the island about three miles
across and five miles long. The volcano was at the extreme
southeast end. The only beach was what was eroded from
constant wave and swell action ... no more than fifty feet
inland. This we found out later to be black ashes, firmness
similar to quicksand. Of course, the map didn't point any of
this out. It was Iwo Jima. I had never heard of it before,
but soon we learned a lot about it. The navy had been
shelling it for a couple of months with no damage at all.
Planes had bombed it for the same length of time, yet still
there was no damage. The island was honeycombed from one end
to the other. Suribachi, the volcano, was one huge fortress
with tunnels and gun positions at every level, and it was
tall. This was probably what we were trained for, the
roughest of all of our landings. We had a few days before it
was to happen. I don't recall any special training which
took place at this time ... only getting the boats in top
shape, tanks full of fuel, batteries charged and a couple of
extra boats added to our usual complement. All of the
cables, ropes and life jackets were placed aboard. We all
did a lot of staring at each other. At this time I still did
not know the names of any of these people nor did anybody
offer to be the least bit friendly. On the day before the
landing we were barely moving north towards Iwo when I
looked over the port side and saw a body floating in our bow
wake. It was headless ... probably one of our pilots. This
was not too unusual except that I had dreamed of seeing the
same picture the night before! The Jackson pulled up within
about a quarter mile, too close as we found out soon. We
were hit with small fire, some phosper 40 mm shot. This
spatters like solder. A few guys were hit. The 'take cover'
order was given too late. Needless to say, we moved out
beyond the range of those guns. The landing took place in
daylight, unusual for us. The boats that were needed were
launched. The boat I was engineer on was one of the first.
We circled a short distance from the ship until called in.
This sea was the roughest I'd ever been in with swells at
least 15 feet and close together making a troop loading very
hazardous. Boats all around us were attempting to take on
troops and other cargo. I am telling about the one I was
on.
Some of the happenings are
vague to me now. Our load was a Jeep type vehicle loaded
with radio equipment to direct fire from the ships farther
out. There were many cruisers, destroyers, rocket ships,
escorts and about any type of war ship the navy had. This
gunfire from these ships was going on all around us with no
let up all day and night long. Two cruisers within a quarter
mile of us fired broadsides all day and most of the night.
This helped us keep our heads clear and down! We were called
in to load up and made a nice approach and tried to hold
against the ship ... sometimes against the rail ...
sometimes under the belly below the water line. The navy way
at this time to lower any piece of equipment was to fasten
it to a cable which goes up to a pulley, down the boom to
another pulley, across to a winch in the center of the deck.
Other winches moved the boom from side to side, in this
case, over the side. Another winch lifted the boom to the
height needed. This isn't all of the niceties. A man stands
at the rail looking down at us, wondering why we can't hold
the boat any closer and in one spot. He signals to a man who
handles the winch controls who raises or lowers the vehicle
hopefully gently and accurately into our boat. The first
attempt was a disaster. The Jeep lit on the gunwale on my
side, sent my machine gun to the bottom of the sea, and
upset in the boat. Luckily there was some slack in the cable
and we got it lashed up so it could be hoisted and relashed
to try once more. The war continues around us, we try to
hold our position as well as possible. As a swell took us up
very high the Jeep was on its way down again, and as we
dropped back down the Jeep was lowered perfectly into the
boat. We unhooked all cables and lines so they could be
taken back up and then moved out to circle until called in.
The cox'sn, now at the wheel, somhow started in at the wrong
place. There was a huge rock on shore. No problem there
except a few Japs who owned that rock decided to protect it
and opened up on us with rifle fire. We moved out of there
very quickly. Once more, down the beach at the foot of
Suribachi we found our spot to land the Jeep and three
Marines, all radiomen, all with tears streaming down their
faces. I think I know why. We were getting a lot of very
close hits. I am so glad they were only close. The water
spouts would be several feet high.
We were signalled in and
headed to the beach, what beach there was. We were at full
speed. I lowered the bow ramp. The crank used in lowering
the ramp slipped out of my hand and put a nasty gash in my
arm, through a denim jacket and shirt. We held the boat in
by turning the rudder and holding the power on. Then it
happened ... the propeller picked up a line floating along
the beach. It had a length of cable tied to it, within a
couple seconds the reverse gear was literally burned up and
we had no power at all. These high swells continued in to
shore, although now a little smaller but still very strong
with a rip tide effect. We immediately broached, the
starboard side was crushed in and we were pulled out about a
hundred feet, to be tossed about. We scrambled over the
lowered ramp and made it to shore. It was not the fanciest
swimming done but it was effective. I got around the bow of
a landing craft. I think it was an LCI, beached to take on
casualities. This was a fairly safe place as long as there
wasn't a big mortar projectile heading my way. I didn't have
a weapon, only my knife, so I just stayed there until the
next day. This was the real thing, with a lot of those
mortars dumping their shells in the nearby area. I saw a lot
of guys get it. My luck still held out. I didn't run out in
the open and ask for it. I wanted to come home if possible.
All day and through the night until about noon the next day
I witnessed up close what the landing was really like on the
beach. I had a taste of it in the water. I did a lot of
peeking around the bow of the boat but I was taking cover
from whatever came my direction. I can see why we had eight
or nine thousand casualties the first day, not making it to
the first ridge above the beach. Around noon the next day a
landing craft, an LCM, a bit larger than the one I was on,
landed some equipment and offered to tow our boat out to the
Jackson. We accepted, located our boat about a hundred yards
east of us, still afloat but beat up. We lashed the two
boats together and headed out. I had to ride in the wreck.
The swells were still twelve feet high near the island. The
lines broke twice on the way. As we neared the Jackson,
Larry Pabst, a friend and a carpenter, was at the rail. He
looked down and yelled, "There's old Bill! We heard you were
dead." I don't remember how I got topside or how the boat
was hoisted. I know I went to my rack, crawled in, helmet
and all, and soon I was out, dead to the world.
In the early evening our
Master-at Arms awakened me and said I'd better go to the
mess hall to get some food. I had only eaten a couple of
candy bars in all the time I was off the ship. After the
food and a shower I felt better. I had gained a few friends
I hadn't known before. I reported to the first class
machinist's mate. He found out I was assigned to another
LCVP like the previous one I had been on. The duty was to
'be in the water' to do any job that needed done, on call.
The unloading was still going on. Troops were coming over
the side to board the landing boats, now in smaller numbers.
Among them were gunnery teams and some BAR men. The BAR was
a larger than usual machine gun which was very heavy. One
man lugs it around while another man carries the ammo for
it. The seas were still high so landing operations were
still scary and risky. A BAR man was coming down the net
when he lost his grip and fell into the sea ... going down
below the curvature of the hull and up to to where he had
lost his hold. The gun was still on his back and shoulders.
The Chaplain of the Jackson, who was very overweight,
crawled down the net far enough to get the soldier's head
between his upper legs, but he couldn't do anything more
except half drown the man who was now about unconscious, so
he let him go back into the water. At this point our boat
attempted to rescue the soldier. I lowered the ramp about to
the water line and we attempted to get closer. We were
moving up and down some twelve feet or more. I tried to get
into a position to try to grab the soldier, but there was no
way. It was just too risky. The "feel" of the ship pulled
our boat in too close. I was lying partly on the gunwhale
and when the boat moved toward the ship my body was as a
"fender", but I am not that tough so I got two broken ribs
out of this. We maneuvered back out away from the ship and
another boat approached but not as close and a young crew
member jumped in with a life jacket on and some lines
(ropes) to be used to pull him and the soldier back to their
boat. I don't think that soldier had to go in with the
landing that day. I will tell more about the young crew
member who jumped in to rescue this man later. Later I was
allowed to climb up the largest cargo net to have about a
mile and a half of tape put around my ribcage. The pain was
not all that bad yet. I had to go back aboard the small
boats and continue my job there. We were assigned to a job
along the beach, pulling out and sinking the disabled craft
that cluttered up the shoreline. Probably there were some of
the crew and soldiers still inside these crafts. We didn't
check.
At the end of the first day
of this new assignment to this landing craft we contacted
the people on the bridge to see if we could be hoisted. No
way, it was too risky, swells too high. We were handed down
some food in containers that kept it warm. A refueling hose
was lowered down and we filled the tank. We shoved off and
continued our work. There was no relief from the high seas
and no hoisting. More food and fuel was passed down to us.
On the fifth night we were finally caught up with the
salvage jobs and went out to the ship but were denied
boarding again. We had it with this task! A person can only
take so much. We were exhausted and just didn't feel like we
could possibly go on. We pulled alongside the ship and tied
up to a cable we called the sea painter which ran the length
of the port side. The two men with me crawled up the cargo
net and were supposed to try to get somebody to relieve us.
I had to remain in the boat until that happened. As I waited
the line tying the boat to the cable slipped along the cable
and the boat had moved back over half way along the ship,
just below the promenade deck. I had given up on any hope of
being relieved as the two men of our boat's crew never
showed back up nor did anyone else. My intentions were now
to get aboard somehow. There was no cargo net back here but
there was a fender just below the top deck made up of a
metal drum covered with rope netting to make it softer and
flexible. It was hung on two lines, one on each end. It
looked as though the lines might be within reach when the
boat was at the top of the swell. I had to stand on the
stern sheet, no rails at all, and reach up to grab the line
on the end of the fender. Of course, after grabbng the line
I was hanging in mid air as the boat dropped down in the
swell. I was pretty scared.
I was never too good at
climbing up a rope but I decided to improve that night.
Somehow I made it to the rail and got over it to lay on the
deck and try to remember what ship I am on. A guy in a
hammock saw all of this, and later he told me that he
thought I would make it so he didn't come to help me. I made
it down to the Master-at-Arms compartment, awakened him and
told him what had been going on. The two guys from the boat
hadn't told anyone anything. They found a rack in a troop
compartment and "passed out". I could have been in serious
trouble with some officers, but the Master-at-Arms was a
nice guy and said he would handle everything. I went to sick
bay, got checked out, and was given a small bottle of
brandy. I headed for my rack. I took a sip of the brandy but
it was not for me! I went over to the far side of the ship
to where one of my shipmates was asleep. I knew he loved
anything with alcohol in it. I held the small bottle of
brandy under his nose. He woke up and drank it down quickly.
We talked a little before I went to sleep.
The Master-at-Arms awakened
me to get some food and so could get a hot shower with fresh
water while it was available. No one was the least bit
interested in what I had been doing so I didn't tell anyone
where I had been for the last few day before this. I was
assigned a watch on the gun deck which was the highest deck,
but below the bridge, abaft the stack, like from 90 degrees
to 270 degrees to watch for anything that moved or was
worthy of reporting to the bridge. From this position I saw
a lot more action on the island. The fighting was in it's
first week still. We hadn't gained much ground yet, but we
had a lot of casualties. We started taking them aboard the
Jackson. Anyone not on watch helped out in any way they
could. We ended up with over 350 wounded, some died on
board. They were wrapped up for burial at sea and stored in
cold (refrigerated) rooms until the burial could be done.
The mess hall was used as a sick bay overflow. One marine
was laid on a table in the mess hall and was bleeding
profusely from shrapnel wounds in his back and sides. The
blood ran out as fast as the plasma was put in him. It ran
down the mess hall deck and out the scuppers amidships over
the side into the ocean. I hung a sheet around him to sort
of cover him from the others. He died that night and was put
in a cold room. I helped with feeding and anything else I
could with those who were wounded. There were a lot of foot,
ankle and leg wounds placed in this area. The doctors were
busy amputating in sick bay. Sometimes in the evening hours
they would come down to the mess deck to redress the wounds
which were now pretty bad, lots of sulfa all over them.
There was also lots of face and head damage. The doctors
looked at each other and shook their heads. My watch on the
gun deck went on, four hours on and eight hours off. They
were busy hours and went fast. I had on sound powered phones
and could hear about anything that was happening. I would
relay it to anyone nearby so we could watch it. I saw the
first B-29 land on Iwo, as soon as the strip was taken and
repaired. Those 500 pounds mortars make huge craters in the
ground.
We had one officer aboard who
was about the meanest person in the Pacific. You couldn't
please him no matter no matter how hard you tried or how
right you were. He would make you tear down a gun and put in
back together ... not too difficult ... except he would have
you do it in the dark. One seaman had a small phonograph and
I think only one record, "What a difference a day makes" by
Dinah Washington. He would take this up into the crows nest
and play it into the sound powered phones and we could hear
it. This officer knew it was being done but never found out
from where. He got up on the gun deck but might have been
afraid to climb any higher to seek it out. I was on watch on
the gun deck one night, crouched down with my back against
the stack. I dozed off and a little later I was awakened by
this officer by him putting a blanket over my shoulders. He
sat nearby on a beach chair. I never got to know him. I had
to go back to small boats to continue doing errands etc.
Soon we were filled with casualties, the last loaded from an
LCI which was tied up along our starboard side. This is
where the fenders come in as they separate two vessels from
each other as the swells move both around up and down. We
were called in the following day and the boat was hoisted
and staed up and once more my job was the watch on the gun
deck. The rest of the boats were being hoisted aboard, the
davits full with a boat to the rail. The big booms were
lifting the last few boats onto the ship. The starboard boom
was outboard with a boat that had a canopy on it. It was
about 60 feet above the water when a plate which was welded
to the bulkhead just a few feet below where I was standing,
taking in all the activity, came "unwelded" and shot across
the tops of the stacked boats already on deck. I saw this
plate which was about 3 feet square, go over a man's upper
legs. The load of the boat caused it to go very fast until
it reached the spot where the cable entered another pulley.
The boat being hoisted aboard fell back down until it hit
the rail on the starboard quarter. The engine was the
heaviest part of the boat and as it hit the rail it broke in
two and the whole thing fell down into the sea. One deck
hand jumped and was rescued. The two men in the canopy were
killed and were picked up the next day by a destroyer. One
of the men was the one that had pulled the BAR man to safety
from out of the sea a couple of days before. The ship moved
out and headed south to Saipan, slowed to bury seven bodies
over the side, "deep sixed" them as sailors would say. This
is something to remember. The bodies float in the wake for a
few miles then sink below the surface. I don't know if these
were weighted down or not. I do know they are gone ... that
they never wrote home again.
We unloaded several hundred
casualties which took a few days. I don't know how long we
stayed at Saipan. We moved on south toward Guam and in a day
or more the Fireman First Class were called to the
Engineering Officers quarters, lined up and notified that no
more firemen could advance in rank because the men above
(Third Class Petty Officers) could not advance either. Two
of us would have to leave the ship. There was no sure
destination, maybe another ship nearby, maybe a shore job.
Also a trip stateside may be in order. No one seemed to
know. To decide who would go would be the navy way cutting
cards. The deck of cards was passed down the line and we
each took a card. I had a ten of diamonds and assumed I had
no chance at all. One guy had an ace and out of fourteen men
no one had any thing above my ten spot. The other guy was
Paul Robbins, from Detroit. We got our gear together, signed
a lot of papers to prove we did not owe the ship anything. I
had only a few goodbyes to say. The next morning we got off
while moving along at ten knots. The boat took us to shore,
right up the ramp that the Pan American flying boats used in
peacetime. We were assigned a tent with a lot of mosquito
netting over the cots. Paul and I were the only ones in the
tent. We mustered in the mornings, ate our meals, just sorta
goofed off, trying to get some information about where we
were headed. We found out that we were going stateside but
nothing else. The days went by and more guys were mustering
in each morning, now about twenty plus a first class
machinist mate who was in charge. The group was called a
draft. We were told to stay together and soon we would be on
our way. About three weeks on Guam and then we were boated
out to a big old Victory ship. Talk about a "slow boat to
China". They creek and groan and break in two on occasion.
Anyhow, this was our ride to the States. We boarded via a
cargo net over the side. Our gear was hoisted on deck with
the usual hooks and cables. As I was pulling mine out from
the pile I plopped it down on deck and as it was very tight,
with mattess and all, it bounced back up and pushed my right
thumb about halfway to my elbow. Hurt? You bet! This was a
good start. My rack was the top one in the side of a hold.
We were given a box of cereal and some coffee. That was
breakfast. At noon we had a bowl of soup similiar to Mrs.
Grasses, mostly water. We had a glass of Kool Ade type
drink.
We could hardly wait for
supper ... except there wasn't any supper! Luckily there was
some candy available. One night I was really hungry for some
food of some sort so I decided to go up in the crews
quarters to talk to someone about how I could get some. I
was told that if I would volunteer for a watch I could eat
with them, so, of course, I did. On the way back to my rack
I was in this long dark passageway and feeling my way along
when I came to an opening. The door was not locked. I
reached inside and felt some boxes. I had no idea what I was
feeling. Maybe it was soap and, if so, maybe I could trade
it for some food! I took a few boxes placing them under my
shirt and headed for my rack. The red lights in the berthing
compartment gave enough light to see what was on the boxes.
There was a bunch of numbers and the word "baked" which
caught my attention. I tore open one of the boxes and
discovered cookies ... like Oreos we had later after the
war. I made a few friends that night. I began feeling sick,
weak and sweaty most of the time and found out later that I
had malaria which I had been exposed to on Guam. We had
taken pills to keep from getting it but they obviously
didn't work for me. Maybe it was one big mosquito! I have
some of it to this day as it comes and goes. I stood the
watch ... 4 hours on and 8 hours off ... and got to eat some
good food for a change. This trip back stateside took 3
weeks. I began to feel better each day and passing under the
Golden Gate bridge again made me a lot healthier. I was put
on Yerba Buena, one of the Treasure Islands in San Francisco
bay. Once more I tried to get some information about my
future in the Navy and this time I was successful. I found a
yeoman who looked up my records and he said I had 18 days
delay enroute to San Diego Naval Repair Base so I had a few
days available to go home to my wife and daughter in
Indiana. This being in the 1940s meant taking a train, about
4-5 days each way. The freight trains had the right of way
so the passenger trains had to pull over to the sidings to
let them pass. I headed for Chicago on a normal overloaded
train with old straight seats. There was no possible way to
relax or lie down except on the floor, but it was so full of
luggage and sea bags. In those days we had to lug our
mattresses around along with our sea bags and ditty bags so
it was a very large amount to handle. I arrived in Chicago
and found a train to Waterloo, In. which is about 5 miles
north of Auburn ... my destination. I got a ride in a car to
Auburn with some people who were going to Fort Wayne.
They dropped me off about 3
blocks from my house. As I walked down the street towards
home I felt like I was walking in the air. I saw Deann, our
daughter, with a friend a couple of doors from our house.
They were out in the yard near some flowers. I walked over
to her but she didn't know who I was for sure until I
accepted some flowers from her. We walked home together and
knocked on the door. The other love of my life ... my wife,
Bonnie, was bathing so she answered the door wearing a
towel. My navy gear on the train had been put in the baggage
car. I was concerned that I would never see it again, but it
was delivered to my house a couple of days later. I spent
about six days home ... not long enough ... but I had to get
back to the Navy. I left for San Diego with my freshly
laundered clothes. The train trip back was a little better
than the one to Indiana. People were so nice ... I couldn't
buy anything ... even pillows or soft drinks. I arrived at
the Repair Base but was 4 hours late so I was assigned to
some Marine people to go to the brig where the first thing
that happens is you get the boot camp type haircut and are
put to work on cleanup duty for the whole base. I walked
across the huge drill field (while the Marines drove a jeep)
to a barracks type building which was all new. The Marines
took me into an old Chief Petty Officer who was behind some
wire mesh. The Marines had handed him some papers on me and
my records. He told the Marines that he would take care of
me and they left. The Chief then threw the papers the
Marines had typed up into the wastebasket and asked me how I
would like to go on liberty. I was put in one of the new
barracks nearby where there were a few other guys. They all
spoke to me but that's all. I found an empty bunk and
started putting my gear away. Another guy came in and he was
next to me so we talked a little. He was also just in from
the Pacific theater so we had things in common to talk
about. He told me that they treated us very good because
we'd seen some action and we were being rehabilitated. He
was so right. I was assigned to duty in a machine shop and a
balance shop where we balanced everything from small motor
armatures to huge ship screws (propellers). It was a joy to
work with this group. We could sleep in if we wanted and a
"boot" would get us up in time to get to work. The food was
the best ... two or three kinds of soup each meal, seafood
once a day ... and all very tasty.
I went to class on alternate
nights. This would last for a few weeks. I had liberty on
port or starboard nights (every other night) but I usually
didn't go out. I thought about Bonnie and Deann and how nice
it would be to have them there with me. I called Bonnie at
work and suggested my idea. She quit her job and sold our
Ford the next day to get the money needed to make the trip.
That night they were on a train for California. We lived in
several small apartments, always moving closer to the base.
We went to a lot of stage shows, big bands and good movies.
We went to the zoo a few times and had fun while we could. I
did a job on a huge troop ship which was loaded and in a
huge drydock. Three of the four blades of the screw were
damaged with tips either missing or bent terribly. It must
have hit something huge to do that much damage. The shaft
had to be rotated by hand from inside the engine room to
bring the blades up to a position so we could grind and fill
in the tips. We did real good and got them repaired in less
than a day. The drydock was reflooded and the ship was on
her way ... with no abnormal vibrations or shakes ... so we
must have accomplished our job successfully. This was the
most work I had done since I was at the base. All of it was
interesting and almost fun for a change. Earlier I was
notified that I was assigned to a new ship, the USS Avery
Island (AG-76), which was a repair type ship of the Basilan
class. She was soon to be on her way to some islands near
southern Japan to erect towers for radar and radio
antennaes. Bonnie and Deann returned to Indiana soon after I
shipped out. The group I was in was mostly personnel to
stand watches as needed, but none of this came to be as the
war in the Pacific ended when the Japanese surrenderd. All
plans were changed and we were once again broken up. I was
assigned to a Destroyer Tender, the USS Piedmont (AD-17).
She was a large ship designed and equipped to repair and
service several destroyers at once. She had huge shops
aboard to accomplish about anything needed as well as food
service and medical and dental care for not only her own
crew but the crews of destroyers tied up alongside. I went
into Tokyo Bay area with the surrender fleet aboard the
Piedmont.
We were tied up in a huge
shipyard in Sagami Wan, the entrance to Tokyo Bay. This was
another time in my life in the Navy where I was very pleased
with everything that happened. The crew aboard the Piedmont
... which was now a skeleton crew ... was the best. I asked
for an assignment in refrigeration and was approved for
this. I met all the people in charge. We had our own little
galley. The watches were simple ... just keep the food and
anything that is perishable cold. I had several months of
this duty. My "points" were building up and soon I could be
homeward bound.
My time on the Piedmont
seemed to drag by. I was so excited about the end coming up
soon. Finally one night I was called up to officers country.
I was told that this is it .. to get all my releases signed
... so that I didn't owe the Navy anything and would be
ready the following morning. Of course, I didn't do any
sleeping that night. I was ready and got out onto the pier.
I walked along toward the stern of the Piedmont where I
boarded a landing craft and had a tour of the bay where I
saw lots of submarines, sunken ships, one large battleship
lying on the bottom of the bay with her top deck just above
the waterline. I had been around the area where the Piedmont
was tied up. I had seen a lot of tanks and sat in a few of
them. I had gone into a few large caves in the mountainside
alongside the pier. The Japanese had used them as machine
shops and had lots of tools and other stuff stored in them.
I had found a few souvenirs in the way of tools. I was taken
to a small ship, the smallest I was ever on. I found a rack
and got acquainted with some men already set to go. We were
a happy bunch ... passengers once more. After a couple of
days of looking the ship over we were told that she was
going stateside to be decommissioned. I never found out what
she was doing in the Pacific ... probably some launch for
some admiral or big wig of some sort. We took off like a
speed boat ... probably 20 knots or more ... headed for the
good ol' USA. This lasted for only 3 days as the electric
motor driven ship lost all power ... something wrong with
the generating system. We drifted into the Japanese current
with no way to move ahead into the swells. Our sea legs were
really tested out. Finally an auxiallary generator was
started and we radioed Pearl Harbor to send two sea going
tug boats out to tow us in. The sea was over the deck most
of the time. We wallowed in the swells like a life boat.
Some people finally got some power to the DC motors and this
was enough to make a little headway ... about 12 knots. The
tugs were sent back and we proceeded north and east ...
getting help from the current. We fired all the guns on
board using up all the ammunition and tossed a lot of the
guns over the side ... no bodies this time. Some of the men
had never been around guns like this. They held their hands
to their ears and hit the deck pronto. We made it to the
States in almost 3 weeks. It was a very slow voyage. We
followed the coast down to San Diego and pulled into a dock.
A draft of men was made up and we went ashore on a wharf
where a Red Cross stand had donuts and coffee for a quarter.
Down the line the Salvation Army had the same for free.
I don't recall exactly what
happened that night as to where I stayed although I know it
was on the base. I went to downtown San Diego and had some
fresh salad and milk. A 'draft' was made up of a group of
men, all going to Chicago. We were all warned not to get
lost or separated or our discharge date could be delayed a
month or so. So many guys had to go out and see how drunk
they could get. I'll never understand that way of thinking.
A lot of questions were asked during the discharge
procedure, mostly of our attitudes, our overall treatment
and care, and a little about what we would be doing after we
got home ... like work and where we would be living a year
from now. Finally the big moment arrived when I went out the
gate to get a train to Chicago and then another train, the B
& O railroad, to Garrett. I suppose it was 6 hours or so
from Chicago to Garrett when I finally arrived at the
station where Bonnie, Deann, mom, dad, and my sister came to
meet me. We went to my parents' home and ate. Later my
sister loaned us her car and Bonnie and I went to Auburn.
This was a lot of excitement for one day! My former
employer, General Electric, was on strike at that time so
going back to work for them was not an option. I wanted to
continue my training in toolmaking so I went to work at a
small shop in Auburn. This was the very next day after
arriving home which was probably too soon, but our financial
picture didn't look too good and the money was needed. All
through the years I worked at several places leaning a lot
about my work. I made tool and die, mold making and
prototype modelmaking my life's 'career'. It has been a good
career and has certainly been something I have enjoyed
doing. This has nothing to do with my navy career, but I
wanted to share some of the transition to the new life back
as a civilian. I retired at age 62 from the company where I
was last employed. However, I continued to work at home in
self employment for another 20 years doing a variety of
things including small engine repair, saw chain sharpening,
harmonica repair, general repair, and machining. I had only
a few machines out in our garage but they were enough to do
a lot of work ... the same sort of work I had done all my
life. Some of that work included making guns for radio
controlled model ships of war used by hobbyists for mock
battles they have on ponds and certain other waters. These
mock battles are among those of WW2 ... some of which I
witnessed in Leyte Gulf in the Philippines as ships engaged
in the real thing. If you do a search on the internet for
"bill newbauer" (using quotations) in a good search engine
such as Google you will find among the results my name
associated with these guns. They are also known as "Indiana
guns". I finally had to sell my machinery and retire from my
life's work. Bonnie was having some physical problems due
mostly to Diabetis which required me to devote myself to her
as full time care giver. And her condition and needs
required us to make a hard decision to sell our home and
move to the Fort Wayne area to be closer to Deann and her
family so they could help us out. Sadly, Bonnie was only
able to live in our new home for about a week before she
took a turn for the worse and had to be hospitalized. From
there she went into a nursing home for less than 3 months
before I lost her in death. I miss her so very much and it
is hard to go on without her. But I am going on as I must.
Even though my navy career ended some 66 years ago in some
ways it has never ended as I have recurring dreams at least
once a week where I am back in the navy. That's about it.
Some people are interested in this sort of story while
others could care less to hear about it. If you have read
this far you obviously are one of the first group. Thank you
for your interest.
Bill
Newbauer
F1C
USNR
A very special
THANK YOU is extended to BOTH Bill and Steve Newbauer for
their kind and generous permission to use the materials
contained on this web page. Stories such as this story go a
long way in preserving yet another piece of the overall
picture that was World War II.
26
June 2011
It
is with extreme saddness that we at World War II Stories --
In Their Own Words pass on the following information
received from Bill's son, Steve...
"...I am writing to inform you that my dad,
William (Bill) Newbauer passed away into eternity last
month..."
Some web sites
that are about the U.S.S. President Jackson
(APA-18) and related material:
DANFS
USS President Jackson (QP-37-APA18)
Ships
of the U.S. Navy, 1940-1945, USS (APA-18) President
Jackson
Online
Library of U.S. Navy Ships - President Jackson
(AP-37-APA18)
Online
Library (additional images) USS President Jackson
(QP-37-APA18)
Attack
Transport -- APA-18 President Jackson
AP-37
USS President Jackson
USS
President Hayes Association
Associations:
USS President Jackson (QP-37-APA18)
Reunions
and Contact List (USS President Jackson)
WWII
Hero Interviews
Attack
Transport -- APA-18 President Jackson
Original Story
submitted 30 April 2002.
Story updated on
26 June 2011
