In honor of Veterans Day, I thought I would post the transcript of tape recorded by my great uncle Cecil "Max" Cox about his experiences in the Pacific Theater during World War II.
Sometime in the fall of 1939, we able-bodied men were asked to sign up for what was called the Selective Service. I wasn't called into the service until October 1942. We went to Des Moines and took our physicals. I passed and was sent home for two weeks, then one evening we departed from Bedford on the train. It was very hard leaving your loved ones, not knowing if you were going to see them again. If you don't think so, try it sometime. We were in Des Moines three or four days, loaded on a bus, taken to Ames where we boarded a train for parts unknown. Two days later we unloaded at Camp Roberts, California. It was strictly a base for combat training. I took my basic training there. It was a nice place to spend a few months of the winter, but would have much rather been home.
They were needing men overseas real bad so we were rushed right over. I did not even get a furlough before being sent overseas. We left Camp Stoner, California March 21, 1943. Our first stop was the Fiji Islands; we stopped to unload some supplies. We were there one week. We then went to the island of New Caledonia. We arrived there April 24th. We were put in a casual camp there until we were picked up by some outfit needing more men. I went with the 112th Cavalry which was a combat outfit. We left New Caledonia May 13th and arrived in Australia May 17th. I got off the boat with Jenque fever and was so sick a week with fever I could barely walk. I was sent direct to the hospital for ten days. The first time I sure realized I was a long way from home and that there was a war going on.
We left Australia June 13, 1943 and arrived at New Guinea June 30th. There had been a big battle there but the Japs had been cleaned out of this particular place. We had very rugged jungle training there. We left there and made a beachhead on Woodlark Island. We let the Japs know that we were coming and they took off as we had very little trouble.
We left Woodlark Island November 30, 1943 and arrived at Goodenough Island December 1st. We joined some Marines there and did some more training. We all knew what was coming as they told us it would be hot where we were going.
We left there December 14, 1943 and arrived at New Britain two days later. That morning about three o'clock, they roused us out for a breakfast of beans, loaded us on what they called alligators. They would hold about twenty-four men and equipment. They then told us what our objective was. We were fifteen hundred men strong; they told us we were going up against anywhere from thirty-five to fifty thousand Japs. Sure made you feel good.
We went ashore with fifteen hundred men [Max was part of 2nd Squadron] and suffice to say, some did not make it. They machine-gunned men on the landing craft; some drowned, some were hit. I went ashore in the alligator; I got hit the first day. I waded through a swamp not knowing what was in the water or how deep to a first aid station. My sergeant said he was so short of help he wouldn't send anyone with me so I said, "I'm going alone before I bleed to death."
They gave me morphine to knock me out. They operated on me the next morning. Just as I was coming to, all hell broke loose. They bombed the tent hospital that I was in, tearing it all to pieces. They took us down to the beach, put us in some foxholes for the rest of the day. That evening, they loaded us on a barge and were going to take us to another island. The barge was stuck so good they could not move it. The next morning they came over and strafed the barge. All I got was another piece of shrapnel; I was lucky at that. By this time I wasn't sure we were going to come out alive. They took us back and put us in the foxholes again. They got the barge loose and after that they put us back on and took us back to New Guinea. I went two days without food. They picked us up and flew us over the Owen Stanley Mountains to Port Moresby where it was good and safe. I was operated on again and was away from my outfit for two months. I wasn't too happy about going back because I knew there would be more combat, by this time I knew I didn't care much for that either.
We left New Britain Island June the 4th (1944) for New Guinea for troop replacement and more training. In two weeks we were ready to go again. This time it was up the coast of New Guinea to a small place the name of Aitape. Our job there was to keep the Japs from coming across the Driniumor River and we were organizing.
I had several close calls there. I had my hat knocked off while peeking around a tree and a mortar shell landed right where I had been a few seconds before. We lost lots of men in the rugged campaign. I had one of the hardest jobs of my life there. We had to move a cemetery; several of the boys were my buddies. They were buried very shallowly and all that rain and heat, there wasn't much left. We would dig down until we would hit the bodies, then throw some lime on them to kill the odor and germs; then we would finish digging them out. We had to move them down to the beach three miles away and put them on barges. From there I don't know where they went.
From there we had more replacements and on to Leyte Island in the Philippines. What a mess that was! I don't think I was ever dry, it rained day and night. Everyone had jungle rot or something wrong with his feet. Same old story – we were a small outfit so they used us to plug up some jungle trails that the Japs were using. We lost several more men by this time; we were a very small outfit.
My closest call was one night; they hit us with artillery. Everyone scattered. I ended up under the roots of a tree with two fellows I had never seen. One had been shot in the face and was in bad shape. In the night he got hard to handle. Somehow he got word to me that he had something in his mouth and couldn't swallow and he wanted me to get it out. I stuck in my filthy finger and pulled out a piece of his jawbone. Before morning he was delirious and calling for his mother. Oh, what a night. I think I aged fifty years.
After a few weeks they pulled us down to the beach and were going to have us make another beachhead on some other island. There was a medical officer who came and examined us and said that this outfit was not able for any more combat at that time. We were sure glad to hear that.
After our rest, our next move was to Luzon Island. We really had the Japs on the run by this time. Same old story – another long three-day hike back on some river for the same old job. By this time I had about had it. The first day I almost didn't make it. My legs just would not do what I wanted them to. Of course, all I was carrying was three days' rations, my sidearm, and part of an 81 mm mortar, probably about eighty pounds altogether.
We got lost, ran out of water and had guys passing out right and left due to the heat and lack of water. By this time we were a very small group and according to the report, we killed between two and three hundred Japs and did not lose but three men. When we left our positions, we dug them up and carried them three days back to where they would be picked up with the trucks. Luzon was very dry and more like the U. S. When this was over, they moved us back and more replacements.
We were getting ready to make the invasion of Japan itself. We were getting ready for bed one night when it came through that Japan had surrendered; sure was a happy bunch of people. I had a farewell letter written to my loved ones in my barracks bag because I was sure that I would not come through this thing alive.
We went ashore in Japan just where we would have landed if we had been making our invasion. We were to take this airstrip at Tateyama, Japan. It was so full of gun emplacements; it would have been a slaughter I'm sure. I was there twenty-six days when one Saturday noon they called us all out. We were so disgusted because we thought it would be a work detail. Instead, they were sending all of us older fellows home. We were on the first troop ship to be sent home from the Pacific.
I was in the service three years – thirty months of that being overseas and practically all in the combat zone. I had no furlough in all the time I was there.
I will close by saying that the good Lord was looking after me or I would never have made it. Since then we have had the Korean Conflict and now the Vietnam War. I lost my nephew, Howard Max Cox, in this conflict. He was a Marine at the time. It hurt me terribly as I knew what he had gone through. I would like to add this poem in his memory:
If you followed your orders whatever went wrong
And did not stop your work until it stopped you
The Escorts march across the cemetery
Not in a civilian fashion, of course
But first a hundred and eighty degrees on the compass
To ___________ walkway; they formed a column left
And then marched to the grave space.
The color guard led you today; the family followed you today
The officer at the graveside saluted you today.
The soldiers carrying your casket followed their orders, too
But no one obeyed social or military degree
Only to fulfill duty today.
We respect you today
You followed your orders whatever went wrong
And did not stop your work until it stopped you
To that marine, "We salute you."
Whether you satisfactorily executed those orders
Or whether you ever began to execute, does not matter now
In the call of duty, and even above and beyond the
Call of duty, you obeyed at dear cost.
Whatever you suffered, before you forced all you could
From your body, no one but God and you shall know.
The color guard folded the flag that covered your casket.
The lieutenant presented the flag to your next of kin.
The bugler sounded the ageless refrain.
The firing squad cracked three rifle reports into the air.
Magnificent response to the comment made here.
Today we salute you, Marine.
Traffic still grinds along the nearby highway,
Oblivious to the consecration of emotions here.
A plane climbs into the sky, unaware.
Perhaps we should appropriate these as a salute to you, Marine.
Work will continue, war will continue; there will be
Soldiers as good as you who can finish the duty you began.
But there will be no other soldier who can replace you.
All is well, so to rest, God is nigh.
I will close now. I hope you have received some information from this little talk that will do you some good. As I said before I'm a poor speaker. I thank you.
Max did not like to talk much about his experiences during World War II, but I am glad that he made this recording so that he could share the type of story that doesn't always make it to books, or shows on the History Channel. He has since passed from this world, but he lives on through all the lives he touched working in the Bedford, Iowa Schools. Aside from this story, I also remember him through the American Flag that draped his coffin that I am honored to have in a special case in my house. It is through sacrifices of those like my Great Uncle Max that we are able to share ideas freely on blogs like this one. If you know anyone that serves or has served their country in the military, tell them thank you.
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