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| Editorial cartoon accompanying the following article (PA 90 is the USS James O'Hara) |
Nagoya Base News Combined with 'The Invader'
Special Edition Aboard the USS O'Hara
Oct. 6, 1945
HISTORY IS MADE: Souvenir of Epic Trip
This special souvenir edition of the Nagoya Base news has been made possible for the troops and crew of the USS O'Hara through the cooperation of the Ship's Office and the Information and Education Section, Nagoya Base. It may be mailed home.
TYPHOONS DELAY SAILING
(I-ER [The Invader?]) Time and tide may not wait for any man but the USS O'Hara waited for a typhoon to run itself out. Figuring the troops aboard would rather spend a few extra days in a safe harbor than at sea in a raging typhoon, Captain Miller of the USS O'Hara delayed sailing on the 27th of September and raised anchor on Oct. 2.
The seas during the months of July to Sept. are always dangerous, with high winds between the coast off Japan and the mainland of the Philippines. The heavy winds and torrential downpours have reached velocities high enough to capsize destroyers and damage light cruisers.
Although the "Fighting O'Hara" has been pounded by heavy seas in the N. Atlantic, a typhoon would probably do considerable damage to the ship and personnel.
CHILDREN OF CREW AND TROOPS WILL STUDY TRIP OF USS O'HARA IN THEIR HISTORY CLASSES
(I-ER) This may be just another "boat-ride" to the weary GI's aboard the USS James O'Hara but to the children who will read about this trip in their history books it will be a momentous event.
For the first time in the history of modern Japan a foreign army will be on her soil and making it even more significant, is the fact that this is one of the few times in the history of warfare when a conquering Army invaded another nation completely unopposed.
Back home today mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives are reading the story. On the North Pacific Ocean off the coast of Japan today the men on the USS O'Hara are making that story.
All that happened since Pearl Harbor on the Pacific fighting fronts, and all the work before and since Pearl Harbor on the home front has been for one purpose: this trip of the USS O'Hara and her sisters-in-arms.
The squadron is scheduled to arrive at the entrance to the Inland Sea of Japan at about 0600, Saturday, October 6th. The actual time and place of that landing had not been decided a this special edition went to press. There seemed to be two landing possibilities: Wakayama or Yokkaichi.
On that not too distant date when the bright eyes look up and ask "And what did you do in the war daddy?" Those who rode the USS O'Hara can look down and say, "Son, I was one of 200,000 American soldiers out of 8 million who went ashore on the home islands of Japan."
SAGA OF A SHIP
(SO) The James O'Hara was commissioned on Apr. 26, 1943. First European operation was Sicily, July 9, 1943 when it landed the 45th div. Next came Italy on Sept. 9th. In these operations she was under air attack seventeen times.
Then to the Pacific on Saipan when the 4th Marines were landed June 15, 1944, followed by the Anguar invasion when the 81st div. troops were put ashore Sept. 17th. On the heels of this operation came the Leyte campaign with the 1st Cav. Div. landings on Oct. 20. While laying in the Leyte Gulf she was hit by a Jap suicide plane.
The year of 1945 saw her strike at Luzon with the 6th Inf. Div. Then the final combat target was bloody Iwo Jima where the 3rd marines hit the beach on Feb. 24.
In all previous operations the USS O'Hara traveled 78,000 miles, crossed the equator 20 times and the International Dateline 4 times.
I AM THE O'HARA
(SO) I am the James O'Hara, serving under articles of commission in the Navy of the United States of America, as a transport for attack.
In the Spring of 1943 my crew flung the long, thin, pennant to the breeze; tested my engines; fired my guns, tested my rigging; and found me worthy.
After that time I came to know the emerald waters of the Caribbean; the gray spume of the Atlantic; the sky-blue of the Mediterranean. I felt the pounding of the feet of thousands of fighting men; the scraping of their battle gear on my decks; the shuddering jar of depth charges searching out unseen enemies below the surface of the ocean. I absorbed within me the panting breaths of fearful men. I jerked with the clapping thunder of my heavy batteries; the staccato rattle of my twenty millimeters. I felt the burdened clanking of the debarkation ladders as men went down my sides to the boats which took them to hostile shores. I listened to the harsh breathing and wild babble of men carried aboard, wounded, bleeding, dying. I have drunk their blood into my steel veins and so gained rage and courage, to carry me on. I have known heroism and cowardice. I knew in turn the mixed scenery and smells of Africa; the fresh green of Ireland and Scotland; the raging crash of the North Atlantic; the nostalgic waters of America.
And so passed the year 1943. I left some of my crew there, on foreign shores and in the deeps of foreign waters, forever. Others went to new ships to pass on the knowledge and experience they had gained while with me.
Then with the new year came a new world for me and my crew. We steamed slowly through the wild, untamed beauty of the Panama Canal; the blue-green of the Pacific. We came to know the unparalleled, changing spectrum of Hawaiian waters; the miracles of Diamond Head and Waikiki; the shattered palms and burning sands of Eniwetok; the stink of Guadalcanal; the watery grave of the five Sullivan boys [five brothers who served together on the USS Juneau and went down with their ship when it sank off the coast of the Solomon Islands]; the mountains of New Guinea; the death-trap of Saipan; the swoolen [sic] floating bodies at Angaur; the false security of Leyte Gulf; the loss and gain of days over the Date Line; the breathless heat of the Equator; the hellish humidity and deadly monotony of all Pacific islands; the glassy seas and sickening vacuum of the doldrums [low pressure areas on the sea with little air movement]; the stink of rotting jungle; the endless distances, and the time and memory-destroying stretches of tropical seas; the hush of the passage through Jap infested waters of the Surigao Straits in the dead of night; the awful, slow spiral of burning planes falling into the sea; the horrible futility of a Jap suicide plane crashing my steel skin; the return of MacArthur to Luzon. To Bataan, to Corregidor; the sickening screech and bust of flame and oily smoke as more suicide planes crushed men and ships; the disgust, rage, and tragedy of half-masted colors when dead men slipped off the stern of ships in canvas shrouds; the sickening sweet smell of human blood as it dripped and gushed; the nauseous stink of putrefaction; the slight splash as limbs of the maimed were dropped over the side; the faltering step of men blinded; the palsied, convulsive shiver of nerve-shattered bodies; the click of typewriters listing the dead and wounded, and writing the poor message of condolence.
I know the exhausted looks of the crew after grueling months at sea in combat and monotony of routine. I have watched smiles change to carved lines around eyes and mouths; laughs drop to muttered curses; friendly horseplay to listless steps and dull dejection. I got to know the letters that men write home - letters of hope, pride, fun, love. I saw them change. [The rest of the article is missing. We will return to Gene's diaries and letters with the next post.]
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| The arrival of the USS James O'Hara into Nagoya harbor |
