First Into Nagasaki (20 page)

Feb. 21

Planes were up early. I can’t get my stomach to behave because of having no starch but one quarter ounce of cornflakes each day. Fred is whittling a stick this morning to pass time as yesterday dragged on him and he snored all night and I did not sleep. When we get out of here I am going to move clear to the other end of the island at night and try to get some rest.

Feb. 22

Washington’s birthday. Happy Birthday, George. We have a new bomber in the air this morning and possibly two. I told Fred when we moved in here we would be here at least two months, now we have food for only two days more and that is skimpy. We have both had not more than half enough food to date. Both of us are very light and weak and have had no hot food or fire for seventy-seven days. Heavy calluses on the bottoms of my feet but actually they are as soft as my hands. No action yet from the U.S. though they must be near us from the way the Japs are acting. It can’t be long now. Will get by fine for two weeks and we know help should be here by then.

Feb. 23

From the viewpoint of two gophers something seems to be cooking on Wake. The Japs should know that if our fleet comes they cannot hold the island so it would be the part of wisdom for them to grab everything and go as they have sacrificed but few lives getting Wake. They could probably load out five million dollars worth of stuff in a week.

Feb. 24

[The day of the American counterattack.]
Shooting started all over the island at 5:30 and continued until 7. We went into the dugout at 6 when shells from the fleet began dropping all over the brush. Four of our planes went over and the Japs opened on them with machine guns but held fire with their anti-aircraft batteries. Our planes shot down two little Jap scouts first thing. Now we are probably getting our pictures developed and if the Japs don’t surrender we will lay it on. The music this morning is the sweetest symphony I have ever heard. Our shells whistle in and seem to burst like a Roman candle and steel flies in all directions. Then fragments start exploding like firecrackers in an alley in Chinatown. Fred and I spend one-third of our time in a tree, one-third climbing up or down and one-third in a dugout. We are sure like two little boys with toy red boats. We assume our planes got pictures of such gun positions as opened up and anytime from now on we expect action to start and not stop until the island is occupied. We hope Wake doesn’t cost too many lives to retake but these boys have had it now too long to suit us. The Japs are going right ahead working on the garden today just like they thought the war was all over and they had won it. Nothing to worry about, they think. Whatever was dropped in shells was new to us as they still seem to be exploding in small pieces like firecrackers for five minutes after the main shell, and it seems to burst with a series like a machine gun rather than just one explosion. I suppose they use different shells after they locate the targets to blast the guns out. We moved back to our camp which is 100 yards from the dugout and is well hidden and we will remain here. When anti-aircraft starts barking and singing into our neck of the woods we’ll go into our holes. We would give our left arms for a good old Springfield apiece and plenty of ammunition. We would move out into the brush
and get in the game. Maybe we can pick a gun off some casualty if things get going good. The biggest anti-aircraft gun is about 1000 feet from us but there is a machine gun very near, probably about 500 feet. Wish my family were here, they would get a kick out of this. Myself I would not miss it for anything. Son, better hurry and get me some grandchildren because I am going to have some good stories to tell them. Boy, how our big shells whistle before they land—and do our little planes sound sweet when they dive! When Japs dive on our guns they shut off their motors and drift down, but our boys step on the gas when they dive and come in like wasps. Soon they will come in flocks. 4:30 in the afternoon patrol planes are up but it is quiet. Uncle Sam seems to have left his calling card and departed as though the war is over. But we expected this as uncle was just getting pictures today. We will dust off the furniture and air out the spare bedroom and get ready to welcome him before the week is out and maybe tomorrow morning. We will probably be too happy to sleep much tonight, but we hope to get corns off our knees and elbows and walk upright again soon.

Feb. 25

A squadron of nine Heinkel bombers came in after dark last night and Fred heard some more come in while I was asleep. These are two-motored jobs with landing gear that does not retract. From what we saw of them when they first bombed us on Dec. 8–23 they are slow. They are probably going out to work on our fleet but if our scouts see them first it is just too bad for them. We don’t think our boats will arrive for two or three days and by that time we hope that the surf will be quiet enough. It is lots too rough today to try a landing. Japanese work is going right ahead on the island as though nothing were going to happen, but we know better. One of Fred’s boys is a gunner on
Idaho
and Fred hopes
Idaho
is with the fleet so that he may get to see him. But the fleet may not lay here more than a couple of days and then push on to take Guam back.
[Guam was actually recovered three years later.]
I found a crippled booby bird from yesterday’s bombing and I skinned him to see what he had in the way of meat. He has about the same as a duck, we could do nicely on them. We can catch them at night on the low bushes.
[Scotty eventually made a net hook from a piece of cable and wove several bird nets.]
But cooking is a problem. We have had no hot food for eighty days today and been hiding for sixty-four. Again at one o’clock a Jap came and looked straight at us through the brush for fifteen seconds. Fred was right out in the open and I was crouched behind a log. We are anxious to see the fireworks start as we are going to see some show. Our dugout is okay except for a direct hit and if that should happen we won’t suffer any but we will be okay, and have had a wonderful adventure along with some hardships and excitement.

Feb. 26

Four of eight Heinkels which left this morning did not come back. That could mean they could have found our navy or that they flew to Midway—but we assume Midway is ours by now.

Feb. 27

Eight bombers that went out yesterday are still out. Jap patrols did not go out last night. Either they are getting careless or they are getting cautious. Uncle Sam has two more days to arrive on March 1st as I predicted.

Feb. 28

I watched from a tree while a Jap scout took off then I took a walk in the woods and found where one of our shells lit and got some fragments as souvenirs. Breakers are dashing high over the brush in the northern shore of the island. We wonder if the storm is delaying an attack by our fleet. I feel good today for a change but am still very weak. Am putting this book away and starting another so as not to lose my records if possible.
[In doing so Scotty forgot a day for leap year, which he omitted from his calendar.]

March 1

The bush near us has taken an awful beating in the past weeks—looks as though the whole Japanese army has been hunting us. Had a good night’s sleep and am feeling better but what we need is a wheelbarrow to help us walk upright again. After closing our February book I tied it
up in a package with some tools in a neat bundle and took them to our hollow cache tree, fifty feet northeast of our camp where we had about six more packages hid. I slid them into the tree through a hole about six feet from the ground and heard them fall down into the hollow stump with the others. My plan is to come and get them when uncle arrives and meantime they’re safe and dry. At ten o’clock a big tractor with bulldozer came through the brush like an elephant and pushed the tree down right towards our camp. Then he backed up and got some more trees and piled them up. Our other diaries were buried six feet under the earth. We saw the bulldozer moving near us and heard words in English and assumed some Americans were still at work.

March 2

If God will only send rain we will catch it for ourselves. I looked at my broken cache tree sticking out from the ground and debris buried four feet. We made a special two-day cache for leaving if shelling broke out suddenly. We still think help is only a matter of waiting for sea to calm down.

March 3

We caught three gallons rainwater which should help us over hump. We went and watched with envy a Jap building going up in sight of our dugout with eight of our carpenters working on it. One is Davis and another is Dick Meyers, also a good friend. I may slip them a note if I get a chance. They seemed to have only one guard and he doesn’t seem to rush them. Everybody seems good and well fed but I think still we’ll string out luck as long as she lasts.

March 4

Building progressing fine 200 feet from us and we know several workmen well but shall not make effort contact them yet. Fred wants to go join them. I’m afraid he will stay with me until food is all eaten and then join them.

March 5

Hammer goes on nearby while I read Hilton’s
Random Harvest.
I’ve been getting a little exercise but am very tired.

March 6

Japs nearly stepped on us. I’ve lost terror I had of them at first now that I see so many our boys working around them. Japs used decoy trail I’d made a half hour after I’d finished with it. Am very weak growing more so each day. I am not sick but very thin legs and arms only one half normal size and my knees won’t control. I just stumble along wherever we want to go. Still when I sit or lie down I am perfectly comfortable and not really ill.

March 7

I am thinking of all the food I am going to have when I get home, chicken rabbit turkey. I will build a new canning house on the ranch in the shade under the trees. Lots of hammering on the building nearby—we had to build new trail to shunt visitors still further away.

March 8

In garden ate two raw seed potatoes placed by Japs and helped our vegetable diet in starches this way. We are going to catch booby birds tonight and cook only breast liver heart and fat.

March 9

Ate three booby birds entrails for breakfast—our first hot food in 77 days. We found our first egg last night but Fred broke it. He is impatient and lefthanded, like Pinkey Gibson. I have no fear of Japs even if they catch us now, seeing how other boys been treated. Last night was so weak and tired could hardly get back to camp. Just heard voices near so will hug ground awhile.

March 10

Ten more days till your birthday Fritzi and I want somehow to get word to you so that you can enjoy it more. Booby birds are starting to lay and frigates hatching. Trees are getting flowers, spring is almost here.

Scotty’s diary ends at this moment, but his adventures in captivity had hardly begun.

That same afternoon—March 9th, in fact, due to leap year—while foraging for food, he walked almost into the arms of sixty-seven-year-old Ted F. Hensel of Burbank, Washington, a carpenter who was working for the Japanese. Aghast at the bearded, dirty, rag-clad fugitives who stood tottering before him, Hensel cried, “You can’t be living men. You’re already identified as dead and buried.”

Finally convinced that Stevens and Scotty were living men rather than ghosts, Hensel said, “You two look terrible. Better give yourselves up. The Japs won’t hurt you. They’re treating us fine. Better come in with me.” The two hungry, thin scarecrows held a war council and Scotty finally said to Fred, “If you want to go in now, I’m with you.”

So the two gave themselves up together, having been, as Scotty says, “without ever serious quarrel, just like brothers to the end.” The Japanese naval officers were inclined to treat the fugitives as had been predicted by Hensel. Ironically, Hensel himself was to die May 1st, 1943, at Sasebo, the horror camp in Japan where the naval jailers were as merciless as those on Wake were tolerant.

An official interpreter named Katsumai, however, claimed that the two men were spies planted by the Americans. They were stripped and their identification marks checked with company lists. Then they were taken out into brush camps and told to dig up their radio or be shot. “Go ahead and shoot,” said Scotty. Katsumai persuaded the Navy to throw both into jail and informed them that they would be shot in five days. Scotty had to give an exhibition with his crossbow, shooting rats, to prove it was not a secret weapon. Each day they were reminded of the number of days they had left. They were kept apart and fed only bread and water. Their last day came and they were allowed to be together and given a hearty meal. Scotty said, “I guess this is the payoff, Fred,” and Fred responded, “I can’t believe it.”

At nightfall their diet was suddenly returned to bread and water. Katsumai came and informed them that their shooting sentence had been postponed because Tokyo had failed to give its approval. Both were released and told that if they returned to the brush they would be shot.

On March 20th—his wife’s birthday—Scotty returned to the brush, found his cache tree, and dug out his diary.

Two months later the fugitives saw what they had missed when the Japanese executed Julius Hofmeister of San Francisco for stealing liquor and being a troublemaker. As Scotty saw it, “A grave was dug, two feet wide by five feet long. The Japs made Hofmeister crouch on his hands and knees. A Jap officer took his sword, laid the blade once against the American’s neck, brought it back like a golf club and then down on his neck, severing his head with a single blow. His arteries spurted blood into the trench and the body was placed there and covered.”