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IN?HONOR… Saluting area war veterans

Editor’s note: This is part two.

VMF 312 had orders for Guadalcanal, a Japanese island that had been taken over by the U.S. Marines. Rumor had it that the island was completely clear of Japanese enemy forces, but it wasn’t long before those rumors were proved wrong. Rogue Japanese snipers started appearing in the trees, taking shots at will at allied troops. The real truth was that no place in the Pacific was safe.

With the United States gaining complete control of the airspace there, the 312 was sent to a new location of conflict: the island of Okinawa, a Japanese-held island covered in airstrips, closer to the mainland and closer to danger. The island’s climate was hot and consisted mostly of rock, which many of the U.S. troops weren’t used to. As they landed in this unforgiving place, an officer from John E. Abram’s unit was hit with a hand grenade. He had fragments embedded in his groin, and was rushed to a nearby ship’s operating room, which was protected only by sand bags. The young officer’s life was saved by the hours-long operation, but the doctors told him that he would probably never father children due to the injuries he had sustained. Years later, Abram met this officer again at a 312 reunion. The officer introduced John Abram to his two sons, standing proudly beside their father.

Okinawa is a long and narrow island, 60 miles long by 18 miles wide. The entire Japanese army seemed to be underground, hiding in an elaborate network of tunnels. The nightly Betty bombs that were dropped filled the landscape with huge craters, which filled with rain and turned into mud pits. Soon, the four-wheel drive Jeeps couldn’t even navigate the terrain without sliding into one of these pits. They were everywhere.

The only dry places to be found were the caves. Many Marines took up positions within them, trying to keep themselves, their equipment and their ammunition out of the rain and in working order. But wet weapons weren’t the only trouble. Puddles and standing water meant mosquitos, and mosquitos meant malaria. The caves seemed, for a short time, to be the answer.

But it wasn’t long before the Japanese officers figured out where the Marines were staying. The Japanese detonated the caves, collapsing tons of rock onto the soldiers inside. To this day, many Marines remain entombed in the fallen Okinawa caves. For the Marines, the only “safe” place to sleep was out in the rain. Mosquito netting helped some men, but not all, ward off malaria.

Word came to the allied officers that 11 Japanese ships were headed to Okinawa to take back the airstrips. Eleven gliders were to hit Yontan. Marines were ordered to get out of the foxholes and to shoot at anything that moved. Abram had an M-1 and fired all he could at the Japanese soldiers. At the end of the firefight, the U.S. had lost 16 aircraft. Later, the bodies of Japanese soldiers were found, dynamite still strapped to their chests. They had been on suicide missions, running up close to the engines of allied planes and detonating the explosives. They blew themselves and the planes’ engines to bits. But the sacrifice was worth it to these Japanese soldiers. It was a way for their families to honor their emperor.

Each day of the war brought new horrors that Abram would never forget. Scenes of violence and desperation on that rocky island will never leave his mind’s eye. His commander, Richard Day, was killed as he flew a plane with his wingmen Ruther and Dempsey. The plane was full of Napalm, and Abram remembers that as it was hit, that plane exploded like a blown-up building full of dynamite. Abram went to Day’s wedding on Parris Island, watched as he married his bride, a former Rockette. She was only married a short time before she became a war widow, sharing that title with so many other unfortunate women who received letters and telegrams telling them their husbands would not be coming home.

The Marines paid again and again for that Godforsaken island, giving life after life to maintain their hold of its craggy landscape. The Japanese death toll reached 10,000-plus, but the Marines’ losses were even higher. Around 15,000 good men were lost on Okinawa. The price for an airstrip close to mainland Japan was high, especially for the families and loved ones that those fallen heros left behind.

Abram’s next direction was to board the USS Southern Cross, which took the squadron to Guam. With supplies prioritized – ammunition and food first – the Marines had no decent clothing to replace the island-battered uniforms they were wearing. When new uniforms handed out, the entire 312 squadron burst out laughing. The only uniforms available were Navy uniforms! Many jokes were shared about that situation. A Navy sailor passed them and asked if it was Halloween! When the next Marine supply depot was found, the uniforms were exchanged. The Marines were glad to look like themselves again.

The next action Abram saw was in Guadalcanal. Then it was New Guinea and Port Moresby in 1943. Since it was Thanksgiving, Abram was served a meal of canned ham. He was also given a certificate saying he had crossed the equator.

The squadron boarded their aircraft carrier and left the Guadalcanal area. Their new “ride” was the USS Franklin CV Hull 13. With orders for U.S. planes to bomb nearby islands, the carrier’s job was to refuel those planes on its deck. This is just what the USS Franklin was doing when it was hit. Panic and confusion followed the blast. Some men heard that there were orders to abandon ship and jumped into the water, but the admiral wasn’t going to give his ship up so easily. He took the Franklin and all the surviving men on board to Ulithi, a nearby island, sailing there with only half a crew and the help of the USS Pittsburgh. The ship was listing at over 13 degrees and more than 700 men were dead. Over 200 were injured.

By the time Abram was on his way to Okinawa, the USS Franklin had been repaired to sailing condition and was headed for safe port at Pearl Harbor. The proud ship was decommissioned in 1947, after serving its country for only three years.

From the relative comforts of staying on an aircraft carrier, Abram was now aboard the LST-598, right alongside the LST-599. LST stands for “Landing Ship, Tank,” a ship designed during World War II to support amphibious operations by transporting large numbers of vehicles, cargo and landing troops directly to shores without landing ports. Some men grimly joked that LST stood for “Large, slow target.” Sometimes it is dangerous to make jokes like that.

When the two LSTs were just a few days’ journey away from Okinawa, the captain came over the ship’s intercom and announced that Japanese submarines had been spotted nearby. With the ship full of Marines and high octane aircraft fuel, it was not just a floating bomb but also a bullseye for the Japanese. As Abram tried to put his worries aside in order to do his job, the captain played the song “Nearer, My God, To Thee.” The entire crew became silent.

IN?HONOR… Saluting area war veterans

Editor’s note: This is part one.

World War II

Medals and Awards: Navy/Marine Presidential Unit Citation Streamer with two Bronze Stars, Asiatic Pacific Campaign Streamer with one Bronze Star, World War II Victory Medal with Streamer, Navy Occupational Streamer with Asia Clasp, Combat Service Medal and Ribbon, U.S. Marine Corps Commemorative Medal and Ribbon, Okinawa Gunto Operation Bar and Streamer with two Bronze Stars, Sharp Shooter M-45 Cal. Pistol

Tactical Area of Responsibility: The South Pacific, Guadalcanal, Hebrides Island, New Guinea, Okinawa, Ulihi

Unit VMF 312; Active – June 1, 1943 to present day War on TerrorUSMC

Allegiance to the United States of America

Type: Fighter Attack

Garrison HQ: Marine Corps Air Station, Beaufort

Nickname: Checkerboards

Tail code: DR/AJ

Aircraft:

Goodyear FG-1 Corsair

Vought F-4U Corsair

John “Jack” Abram and his twin sister Mary were born at their parents’ home in Brocton on July 6, 1922. He was the son of Clarence Louis and Evailine Hall (McGrath) Abram. His father was a World War I veteran who served in France. Growing up in their Hamlet Street home, Abram often felt a bit crowded, as he had to share the space with his parents; three sisters, Mary, Beverly and Kathleen; and five brothers, William, Richard, Everett, Donald and David. Dinner was quite a chore for his mother, who had to set the table for 11. In order to secure a few moments of privacy in the bathroom in the mornings, Abram had to get up before the rooster’s crow.

Abram’s father was a farmer, along with being a supervisor at the local feed mill and lumber yard. Abram’s mother was a homemaker who did a wonderful job raising her children and keeping their home clean and safe.

Abram and his siblings rose early every day, making sure the livestock was fed, keeping the pens clean and making sure farm equipment was kept in safe and running order. A farmer’s life means never knowing when a vehicle will stop running, when a tractor will get stuck in mud up to its frame, or when a tree will topple onto an access road and need to be cut up with a saw and removed. Work was hard and long for all of the Abram children, but Jack Abram learned to enjoy taking things apart and putting them back together.

School days came and Abram was off to Fredonia’s grade school, then to Cassadaga Valley School for high school. He graduated in 1940, part of the first class to graduate from that high school. While there, Abram excelled in baseball, a sport he played whenever he could find the time to do so. He was active in the Future Farmers of America. He also hung around with friends Marshal Clark and Claude Lehnen down at Ames, the new store in town, passing the time eating their favorite foods at the lunch counter.

When he was ready to land his first job, Abram understood the rules that most played by in those days. Factory work was reserved for those who were either married or at least 18 years of age. Farm work was always available, though, and he found a job on a farm for 20 cents an hour milking cows. Other farm jobs were harder, and for some young men, those hard jobs seemed to be a better choice. That was because the daily start times were later, allowing those workers to sleep in a little, and they could receive 5 cents an hour, doing things like bringing hay into barns or corn into silos. Abram had to get up at 4:30 a.m. to milk the cows! But Abram was intelligent, and always on the lookout for something better. Eventually, he landed a job on a farm that paid $30 per month along with room and board.

By December 1941, Abram was employed by the American Locomotive Co. On Dec. 7, he heard of the bombing at Pearl Harbor over his car radio. He was still living on a dairy farm, and he knew how vital farm milk was to the military. The government also knew how important the dairy and crop farmers were – citizens and soldiers alike needed food. So it was easy during that time for farmers to apply for draft deferments. Abram, though, was not one to shirk his duty, justified or not. He wanted to see some action, and signed his papers. Soon, he was off to the famous Parris Island, an island in South Carolina with only one honorable exit: as a United States Marine.

It was common to leave the island on a bus heading north to the Marines’ largest base in the east, Camp Lejeune. Here, Abram went into ITR, or infantry training. Here he learned all about Marine Corp small weapons, including the M60 and 50 Cal. machine guns, the M-79 grenade launcher and the bazooka. He also went through intense physical training. The Marines that left that camp were often called the “finest fighting men in the world.”

With ITR behind him, Abram now had orders to go to California, where he would report to Camp Joseph J. Pendleton, the Corps’ largest base. From there, he made the 80-mile trek to San Diego, where he would become part of the newly-formed Unit VMF 312. He trained as a crew member on the Marines’ newest fighter aircraft, the Corsair. His unit left sunny California behind, traveling across the Pacific to Hawaii and on to Guadalcanal, where fighters were needed. Duty also took Abram to Hebrides, New Guinea, Ulihi and Okinawa, all places that Americans usually pronounced wrong and had likely never heard of. It wasn’t until the bombs were dropped and the war had ended that these locations were recorded in history books as having seen the most action.

Abram’s military service was well-documented, all the way from his mess hall days at Parris Island to his time overseas. Abram believes that this is because his last name starts with the letter “A.” Being at the front of the alphabet has its advantages.

Abram was later assigned to a fire truck at Paige Field. Here he trained to deal with airplane crashes. One day while watching pilots practice shooting targets, Abram noticed a pilot in a nose-dive. The plane crashed, and Abram ran to the burning wreckage. He noticed the pilot still alive, and Abram put his training into action. He pulled the pilot from the hot, twisted metal, then put out the flames with a fire extinguisher. Abram’s adrenaline only began to subside when he saw the injured pilot loaded onto a stretcher and taken away by an ambulance.

Months later, Abram ran into the pilot he had saved. The pilot thanked him for the rescue, but informed Abram that flying would now be out of the picture, due to injuries sustained in the crash. The pilot was grateful, though, to have his life.

Abram attended Whitney School in Connecticut (aircraft engine school), and from there it was machine gun squad. Abram and Pete McCloskey were primary crew members of VMF 312 Squadron. The initial unit had close to 400 men. During this time, Sonya Heany, World Champion ice skater, visited Abram’s base. Heany’s husband was a Marine pilot and her family owned the New York Giants football team. That was a visit for Marines to write home about!

Abram was sent back to California after that, and one day, in the midst of a 20-mile hike up and down the mountains, he ruptured his appendix. But a hospital stay for recuperation would mean he’d miss deployment with the 312th when it left for the Pacific. Abram couldn’t have that – he didn’t want to be assigned to another unit, or twiddle his thumbs in a hospital bed when his Marine brothers ventured out into harm’s way. So Abram insisted he was 100 percent ready to go back to full duty. His wish was granted, and he boarded the aircraft carrier along with the 312th and the Corsairs they were trained on.

As he moved from the dock to the carrier, anyone watching wouldn’t have been able to tell if he was grinning or cringing from the acute pain in his side. But Abram knew that Marines put duty above all else.

The next solid land that Abram and his unit saw was that of the Hawaiian Islands. Abram looked out and saw paradise, but he knew that this was not where he would stay. That was only five months after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and Abram could still see ships turned over in the channel, debris scattered about. Abram stayed there for three months, waiting until plane and weapons parts arrived from the mainland.

NEXT?WEEK: Part two.

IN?HONOR… Saluting area war veterans

Editor’s note: This is the second of two parts.

After 28 days, the ship landed at Cherburg, France. U.S. Merchant Marine Carleton Wagner spent those 28 days worrying about torpedos from German submarines. He thought how ironic it would be if his ship were blown up, only for the Germans to find out that instead of sinking guns and ammo, they had sunk 40 homes for the French! But the ship arrived safely, and next Wagner was off to Hampton, England.

Here, Wagner helped convert a cargo ship to a troop carrier ship needed to transport 535 soldiers back home to Boston after three years of intense combat. Returning to New York after this, Wagner signed up for the SS John 1 McCavley and went back to France. This time, the ship carried war recovery items and food and dairy products. The ship’s supplies were unloaded, and it headed to Liverpool, England.

A special project was in the works in Liverpool to redesign a ship to bring back home to the United Sates. This ship needed to carry special Army equipment, and building an additional deck was necessary. Wagner helped with this project, and the modified ship was a success. The return trip carried not only the special equipment, but many soldiers. Every available space was filled with men eager to go home.

But plans were waylaid when, four days into the trip, the ship hit a massive storm and had to turn around and return to England. The scheduled 22-day trip turned into 33 days. During that storm, Wagner remembers his ship sailing alongside the Queen Mary with about one mile of water between them. The swells were so big that while Wagner’s ship was caught in the low part of the swell, the Queen Mary disappeared until the swell shifted.

But Wagner’s ship of equipment and soldiers made it back to New York. Wagner would have signed up for another voyage, but there were none scheduled. The war had ended, but Wagner wasn’t done with the military. He decided that, having seen some of the world by sea, he would join the Army next. In June of 1946, he met with the recruiter and signed the paperwork. He was off to Fort Dix for another eight weeks of boot camp.

When he had completed his training, Wagner was sent to California, with orders to report to the replacement battalion at Camp Stoneman. Anyone reporting here could end up with orders to go west. Wagner waited three days and then was sent to Seoul, Korea. His job was to work on telephone and land line communication systems. Korea wasn’t the best place to be stationed, but in 1947, it wasn’t the worst place, either. It would be years before the Korean War broke out, but the United States and NATO forces kept a military presence there.

The signal company had more men there than they needed, so the division requested that some of the men volunteer to work in the motor pool. With Wagner’s experience with farm equipment and machines, the motor pool seemed like a good option – especially since climbing telephone poles left those men within good range of snipers’ bullets. His new duty working on automobiles lasted until his enlistment expired. He ate his Thanksgiving meal in Korea, and then headed home to join the civilian corps. But Wagner couldn’t quite part ways with the military, so he joined the Active Reserve. Doing so meant maintaining his E-4 pay grade, along with the perks of being a corporal. It would certainly come in handy if another conflict ignited.

Wagner’s enjoyment of civilian life was short-lived. One day, all the radio stations in the United States were tuned in to President Truman telling the country that troops would be sent to South Korea. NATO was involved. But, assured Truman, this is not a “war,” but a “police action.” It was less than a week from this broadcast that Wagner received his letter in the mail, giving him orders to report to Fort Hood in Texas. As a heavy ordinance operator, rumor had it that the unit would not actually go to Korea. But as rumors often are, they were wrong. The commanding officer announced that Wagner’s unit, along with all of their equipment, would board freighters to travel to Pusan, Korea.

Wagner started to experience trouble with his sight. It was decided that because of this, he should be transferred to a motor pool company. He went to Yokoma, Japan. There, he received orders to the 108 GM Bakery Company. It was back to Korea, to Wonju. He was then assigned to the 88 Vehicle Motor Pool. He was given the responsibility of seven vehicles and drivers. The bakery company would take fresh-baked goods and try to get them to the men on the front lines, fighting in the trenches. Wagner’s commanding officer often said that if a man was stuck on the front lines in the trenches, they should at least do their best to get him a decent meal.

When the armistice was finally signed, Wagner returned home from Korea for the last time. His career with the United States military led to many medals and awards, including the Korean Conflict Medal, the NATO Medal: Korea, the Presidential Unit Medal, the National Defense Medal, the Korean 50th Anniversary Medal, the M-1 Rifle and the M-1 Carbine.

After the military, Wagner found employment with the Woster Trucking Company. He drove trucks until his retirement, traveling to places like Alabama, Florida, Georgia and Mississippi. He delivered dog food products and many Red Wing products.

In the summer of 1952, Wagner had married his high school sweetheart Evelyn Jane Franklin at the Dunkirk Conference Grounds. Together, they had five children, Timothy, Candice, Yvonne, Brian and Melinda. Now, they also have five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. After moving eight times, the Wagners now call Westfield home. They are active within their church, the Lake Shore Assembly of God. They follow sports and enjoy gardening together. At times, they just relax and watch the rabbits running through their yard.

One of Wagner’s life’s highlights happened around eight years ago when he was asked to attend a service at his church. After the service, all of the veterans and military personnel were invited to attend a breakfast in the church’s hall. Each veteran was handed a bowl of Wheaties to start the meal. Then, a few minutes later, each veteran was presented with a special box of Wheaties with his or her military photo printed on the front of the box. This was an excellent and creative way to thank these brave men and women for their service. It also let the congregation know that the real heroes are right here.

These veterans surround us in our churches and our communities. It’s not movie stars or baseball players or rock stars who we should look up to. It’s the men and women who are brave enough and honorable enough to sign up to fight for our country. They don’t know where they will be sent or what they will encounter, but they swear to fight for freedom and battle injustice. These Wheaties were truly the breakfast of champions, our veterans! My hat is off to the Lake Shore Assembly of God church for honoring our nation’s heroes!

Carlton Wagner is another local hero who signed up not once, but twice, to do his duty for the country that he loves.

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