In 2003, William J. Holmes of Mertztown, Pennsylvania, wrote to The Morning Call of Allentown about his World War II service. His hand-printed, six-page letter landed on my desk. It wasn’t published, and I don’t remember calling him about it. When I retired more than a dozen years later, his letter was among the papers I took home. It turned up yesterday while I was going through my files. Here is what Holmes wrote:
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When I was 15 years of age, I remember our neighbors running into our home shouting, “The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor.” I had very little interest and went outside to play.
Two years later, after high school, I visited the Marine recruiting office in Wilkes-Barre, Pa., to enlist, as my older brother, John, was already in the Pacific since 1941 with the 2nd Marine Division. I passed all the written tests and was asked to repeat after him immediately what came to my mind as he mentioned certain words — grass-green, sky-blue, bird-wing, hammer-board. He stopped after board and asked why I said board.
I asked if that was wrong. He replied, “No, no that’s fine.” He asked my age. I said 17. He said, “You are not 17 1/2? I told him you don’t have to be 17 1/2 to join, just 17. He said for the last month the age was raised, as too many were enlisted in the Marines and this was temporary. In anger, he said: “If you want to join something, join the Navy. They take anybody.” I immediately walked a few blocks to the post office and was surprised that I could join for two years. This was because I would be in a reserve status for two years or duration of the war.
I had boot training at Bainbridge, Md., and was shipped to Treasure Island, Calif., a few week later. We were told that we would be on our way within 72 hours. We all laughed at this, as we were getting ready for meal time at 5 p.m. … Shortly, a Marine officer flew into the barracks and said: “Pack your seabags and be ready to go.” Someone asked about our meal, and he said: “You will eat on the ship.” While going under the Golden Gate Bridge, an officer told us, “The next time you pass under that bridge, you will either cry or be choked up. (He was right.)
Our first stop was Pearl Harbor. We dropped off 200 women Marines. … Next stop Enewitok, then Saipan, Ulithi and then the Philippines. I was attached to a repair-and-supply outfit. … All damaged ships that could make it to our area were repaired. Our ship was a converted Merchant Marine cargo-carrying vessel that held oxygen and blood plasma. These supplies from the States were loaded aboard, and we made periodic runs to Okinawa and back.
When the atom bomb was dropped, and we realized we would shortly get going home, there was a point system for leaving. Who were there the longest, had the most battle stars?
While waiting for my points, a group of American civilians asked if any of us would like to be flown home right away with a 30-day leave and sign up for another year. This was for Bikini A-bomb tests. I do not know to this day why I didn’t sign, although a lot did. I believe to this day that, had I been taken into the Marines instead of the Navy and had signed the Bikini paper, I may not have gotten back.
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Holmes went on to serve in the Korean War. In civilian life, he worked as a letter carrier, a security guard at Lehigh Valley Hospital and as a police officer in Macungie. When he retired in 1992, he was a security guard for Kraft Foods. He was married with two sons.
He died last April at age 97.
David Venditta 