Sergeant McQuiston had walked through the ruins of Shuri and knew the city had been virtually destroyed by our artillery attacks. He had seen the smoked hull of Shuri Castle and knew well that everything would have to be rebuilt . . . if there were any Japanese left to do the rebuilding.
“Why don’t they give up?” McQuiston asked me.
“Looks like they would,” I said. “I heard down at Command that ol’ General Mitsuru Ushijima believes in that old Japanese idea that they keep fighting until the last man is dead. Intelligence believes he is right now organizing for a last stand, so they can all go out together. Our boys are breathing down his neck.”
“Why, that old bastard!” McQuiston said. “Hope someone shoots him along the way before he takes any more men with him. He deserves a graveyard.”
“Appreciate your sensitivity.” I grinned. “The truth is Ushijima has already lost an entire division. His other division was chewed to pieces in the battle over Shuri. The rest of his army is fairly well gone.”
McQuiston shook his head. “Bunch of crazies,” he muttered. “I want to go up to the front and watch it wind down.”
“I don’t think I’d do that,” I said. “There’s still plenty of war going on with bullets flying.”
McQuiston shrugged. “I still want to watch it happen up close.”
“I’m tellin’ you that’s a good way to get killed.”
The truth was that the average Japanese soldier had already figured out where all this struggle was going. The army we’d faced right after we landed and battled across the island had a fanatical mind-set that if they took some Americans with them, getting killed was sacred martyrdom. What was left of their army appeared to have jettisoned that idea. When they saw us coming with tanks, artillery, and mortars, these remaining enemy took off in the opposite direction. Seemed like this remnant were more discreet than their dead comrades.
Don’t get me wrong. The war wasn’t over, and we knew it would take the full force of our men to annihilate what was left of the Japanese. No question about it. Our men were on the move. From the first of June to the sixth, we made steady progress. The Deadeyes were quick to roll over the opposition, but it was still dangerous business. Colonel Ed May’s troops encountered brisk resistance as they plowed forward. However, time after time, we were knocking the Japanese dead in our inevitable march to the finish line.
The rain had let up but then returned with that continuous drip, drip, drip that slowed our vehicles to a halt. Much of our movement of supplies and wounded men ended up coming by ship through the ocean port of Yonabaru. Of course, roads were constantly getting washed out, and that really gave us problems.
The 383rd kept pushing forward under wet circumstances. The Second Battalion descended on the road junction of Iwa, an important site. Natives stood around watching. The number seemed unusually large, but when the soldiers started checking, they found a number of soldiers wearing civilian clothes. Apparently, the enemy had seen what was coming and ducked out the back door. When they started out again from the Iwa junction, the Second Battalion ran into Japanese with considerable fight still left. The encounter turned as savage as any previously experienced. Nevertheless, the First Battalion broke through the heaviest resistance and five hills fell into their hands. We discovered a squad of Japanese digging in a new position on another hill and killed fifty-three of them.
The day’s victories were overshadowed by a death that stunned everyone. Colonel Ed May had been one of the most gallant soldiers in all of the skirmishes. His pattern of observation had remained the same: Colonel May always watched the front lines from a forward observation post. One day as he was standing there, a Japanese gunshot hit him in the chest with the bullet going through his heart. The men of the 383rd were stunned.
When the report reached General Bradley, he said, “He was the finest soldier I have ever known.” Colonel May had always been an exacting commander who was a master of the military arts. No one could question his bravery. His men trusted him and followed his example of valor and courage. The men of his regiment made a small monument to mark the site of his death. Posthumously, Colonel Ed May was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross.
* * *
The next big step came on June 10. The Big Apple Hill and Ridge had to be taken to keep the show on the road. Colonel Halloran directed the 381st Infantry’s effort to take this objective, which the men knew had to be one of the last of the Okinawa invasion.
Two companies were suddenly pinned down in rice paddies at the base of the hill. The situation was quickly becoming critical.
Captain Philip Newell, leading C Company, realized immediate action was needed. He called in smoke bombs to cover their tracks. The Japanese assumed our soldiers were retreating. Wrong.
“Major Shaw?” the voice on the walkie-talkie boomed with authority.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
“We have a situation that needs your attention. The Japanese have erred in assuming C Company is retreating because of the heavy smoke. With the white fumes still covering the ground, they sent a hundred soldiers into a building on the escarpment where the enemy are changing into civilian clothes right now. We believe they’re getting ready to attempt an infiltration.”
“I see,” I said slowly. “You’re suggesting that we need to put a stopper in their bottle.”
“You got it. We want your artillery crew to bombard that entire area until we’ve scared the pants off the Japanese.”
“Gotcha,” I said. “When do we start firing?”
“We’re observing the Japanese right now. Get ready and we’ll give you the signal. Hit ’em with all you got.”
“Yes, sir.”
I called McQuiston over. “Tell the men to load the cannons and stand by.”
McQuiston saluted and began alerting the men. When the order came, we fired everything we had. We kept firing until the walkie-talkie rang again from command.
“Major Shaw, tell your soldiers they can cease firing.”
“We got ’em?”
“Sir, you made mincemeat pie out of those jokers. Ain’t gonna be no slipping into our lines today.”
* * *
While we were pounding the enemy pinning down C Company, G Company ran into a fascinating situation. The men were approaching a cave that they expected would hide Japanese. As they listened, they could hear noises inside. No question that Japanese were in there.
One of the men whispered to the sergeant that maybe they ought to toss in a smoke bomb. The Japanese seemed to have become wimps. Maybe they’d just walk out with their hands up and wouldn’t be putting any of our guys in jeopardy.
The sergeant sounded cynical when he asked if the soldier wanted to play Tarzan and try it.
The private thought about it and finally decided to give it a try. Did they have any smoke bombs?
The sergeant yelled for one of those buzz bombs to blow a little smoke up the enemy’s dress: he wanted some real fog to come rolling out of that cave.
Jones stayed low but quickly came over with the fireworks.
The sergeant put the canister in the private’s hands. He told Tarzan to go swinging in there and see what he could scare out of that cave.
The private worked his way to the entrance. He paused, pilled the safety pin, and tossed the device inside. Gray, curling smoke immediately covered the opening. The soldier aimed his rifle, half expecting a shoot-out to follow.
“Hawaii! Hawaii!”
The soldier mumbled, “What in the hell is going on?”
A man’s voice kept repeating “Hawaii.”
A stick with a white cloth emerged out of the smoke. The Japanese soldier came out waving the stick with one hand and just waving with the other. Out of the fog a second figure appeared. A woman.
The woman’s traditional kimono had a large cummerbund around the waist. She was strikingly beautiful with carefully made-up features and artistically shaped eyebrows to match the grandeur of her face.
“Hawaii!” she began to repeat, imitating the man.
The soldier rolled over and found the sergeant behind him. “I think that’s the only English word they know. I can’t shoot no damn women.”
The sergeant nodded and decided to ship the prisoners back to detainment. The private motioned for the pair to come forward. The man and the woman kept bowing as they slowly approached the soldiers.
The sergeant asked if they spoke English.
The man nodded his head enthusiastically and repeated, “Hawaii.”