Tag Archives: japan

How a ‘bully’ drew wrath of fellow POWs in Japan

Lieutenant Commander Edward N. Little after Fukuoka Camp 17 was liberated in September 1945
(National Archives)

An American naval officer and former POW was court-martialed after World War II on charges he collaborated with the Japanese. More than two dozen witnesses spoke against Lieutenant Commander Edward N. Little. One prison camp survivor, a soldier from Pennsylvania’s coal country, gave off-the-record testimony that wasn’t part of the trial. I’m going to share it with you.

Little was the highest-ranking Navy officer at Fukuoka Camp 17 on Japan’s Kyushu Island. He was in charge of the prisoners’ mess hall.

Fellow ex-prisoners said Little ate more than his share of food from Red Cross parcels, threw away edible rice as a punishment, deprived POWs of meals, beat a U.S. Army corporal and ordered the beating of another, reported four prisoners to the Japanese for stealing or selling food, two of whom were killed.

An online National Archives post gives a thorough account of Little’s case, detailing the charges against him, how he defended himself, and what became of him. It was written in 2018 by archives technician William Green. You can read it here.

Green’s source was the court-martial record of Little’s 1947 trial, which takes up 2,066 pages. I have it on a compact disc, which I got many years ago from the Department of the Navy’s Office of the Judge Advocate General. I’d been working on a story about POW Joseph L. Szczepanski, an Army Air Corps sergeant and onetime amateur boxer from Nanticoke who served in the Philippines.

Joe Szczepanski handles a canister of chemicals on Oahu, Hawaii, in 1938. At the time, he was serving with Company A, 1st Separate Chemical Warfare Systems Battalion.

Szczepanski, a clerk at Nichols Field outside Manila, was taken prisoner in April 1942 and walked in the Bataan Death March. He was held at Cabanatuan Camp 1 on Luzon and then at Fukuoka, where he was forced to work in a coal mine near Omuta. I wrote about him for The Morning Call of Allentown in 2009 and again in 2020, after his son Rick went to Japan to see where his father had been enslaved.

It was at Fukuoka that Sergeant Szczepanski came to revile Lieutenant Commander Little.

Later as a free man, Szczepanski testified for the War Crimes Office of the War Department about Japanese atrocities and mistreatment of prisoners. He was interviewed on April 1, 1947, in Larksville, Pennsylvania, near his hometown, by Special Agent Don B. Berntson of the Counter Intelligence Corps.

After Szczepanski died in 2005, Rick wrote to the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis for his dad’s military file. He was surprised to get the report of Joe’s war-crimes testimony, in which he told of his own horrific experiences and complained bitterly about Little.

But Joe Szczepanski wouldn’t go on the record about the Navy officer, so Berntson wrote a separate, confidential report on which he listed Szczepanski as “reliable.” He noted Szczepanski thought Little had been tried and convicted “for his treason-like actions.” In fact, Little’s court-martial had begun in January 1947 and was still underway in Washington, D.C., at the time Berntson interviewed Szczepanski.

Szczepanski in 1946 at Valley Forge General Hospital after surgery on his broken nose. He spent 18 months recuperating from illnesses and injuries he suffered as a POW. The other man is unidentified.

Here is Berntson’s report:

CONFIDENTIAL
War Department
Counter Intelligence Corps
Scranton, Pennsylvania
1 April 1947

Subject: Collaboration with Japanese during World War II by Navy Lieut. LITTLE, USN.

Summary of Information:

During war crime testimony of Sgt. JOSEPH L. SZCZEPANSKI … he related how at Fukuoka POW Camp No. 17, Japan, a U.S. Naval Lieutenant by the name of LITTLE had collaborated with the enemy, thus costing the lives of two American soldiers and causing severe beatings to a number of other American soldiers in order to make his own position with the Japanese solid and luxurious. SZCZEPANSKI stated that he did not want his name mentioned in connection with Lt. LITTLE’s criminal deeds and that he did not want it to become part of his regular testimony on conditions at Fukuoka Camp No. 17. He stated that he believes that Lt. LITTLE was court-martialed by the U.S. Navy at Brooklyn, N.Y., and that he was sentenced to twenty years in prison for his treason-like actions during the war.

The 1947 report on Szczepanski’s off-the-record testimony against Little

SZCZEPANSKI related how a pugilistic soldier from the 4th U.S. Marines, called “Jimmy the Greek” PAVLOCKAS, of either Detroit or Chicago, had never gotten along very well with Lt. LITTLE because of Lt. LITTLE’s being a “general bully” [who] considered no one’s welfare except his own and that of the Japanese. In November 1943, Jimmy the Greek was apprehended by Lt. LITTLE while trading his rice for cigarettes. He was in a group of soldiers doing the same thing, but Lt. LITTLE singled him out of the group, and rather than to take him before Major JOHN [R.] MAMEROW, USAAF (now of March Field, California), he took him to the Japanese camp commander who ordered PAVLOCKAS to a dungeon in 22- to 24-degree temperatures, clad in only pants and shirt and fed a half cup of rice and one cup of water per day. Thirty-nine days later PAVLOCKAS died of hunger and exposure.

SZCZEPANSKI related how an American soldier, NOAH C. HURD, had stolen food from the Red Cross warehouse due to the fact that the Japanese did not distribute it anyway. He was apprehended by LITTLE about June 1944 and subsequently taken to the Japanese camp commander, KEN YURI, who personally tried HURD and personally beheaded him with a samurai sword in the presence of a Lt. PERKINS, a Lt. CHRISTY, and a Lt. [Owen W.] ROMAINE of the U.S. Army. LITTLE was also responsible for the beating death of a U.S. Army Corporal KNIGHT following his stealing rice. He was beaten to death in a Jap guard house by guards and by the then-camp commander of Fukuoka No. 17, Captain ISAO FUKIHARA.

LITTLE also threatened death to Corporal SAMUEL SHULMAN, AAF, of New York City when he took offense at remarks made by LITTLE on one occasion.

My 2009 story about Szczepanski in The Morning Call of Allentown. It was based on interviews with his son Rick.

LITTLE was also responsible for the starving of an American soldier by the name of MONTOYA, believed to be from New Mexico, when he had received a stolen jacket from someone.

LITTLE had also reputedly told the Japanese that a half-bowl of rice was sufficient for the American soldiers when Major MAMEROW had attempted to have the Japanese increase the rations instead of to lessen them. LITTLE also took the initiative to prohibit smoking in the mess hall by U.S. Army personnel.

It is believed that LITTLE is a native of California and that his wife is a native of Brooklyn, N.Y.

Corporal JACK KUCHNER, of the Bronx, N.Y.C., can corroborate this aforementioned report together with the aforementioned U.S. Army officers and noncommissioned officers listed herein. Capt. HOWARD HEWLETT, U.S. Army Medical Corps, can also corroborate this testimony.

Don B. Berntson
Special Agent
Counter Intelligence Corps

The report misspells the names of Schulman, Fukuhara, Kei Yuri, Charles P. Christie and James G. Pavlakos, a Marine corporal. … Hurd’s correct name was Noah C. Heard. An Army corporal, he was beaten and killed in May 1944. Accounts of his execution differed. Some POWs said he was bayoneted to death, while Szczepanski and others said he was beheaded. … It’s not clear whether Szczepanski is referring to Benjamin or Horacio Montoya. Both brothers were at the Fukuoka camp and survived. … William N. Knight, an Army private, was starved and beaten to death. … Howard Hewlett appears to have been Thomas H. Hewlett. … Little was from Monrovia, California. … USAAF stands for U.S. Army Air Forces.

Szczepanski wasn’t alone in his hostility toward Little. In the court-martial, 31 witnesses testified against the commander. Among them was Schulman, an Army technical sergeant, who told the nine Navy officers hearing the case:

Entries in Szczepanski’s diary after he was freed from Fukuoka Camp 17 in Japan. He had been shipped there in July 1943 after more than a year at Cabanatuan Camp 1 on Luzon. The Fukuoka camp was liberated on September 2, 1945.

“Mr. Little was in charge of the mess hall. He had — and he wielded — a mighty stick. He had the full cooperation of the Japanese behind him. He can get just about anything he wanted from the Japanese. The Japanese liked Mr. Little, because they sure saved him a lot of guards and a lot of work, and the men were scared of Mr. Little because they knew that if they went against Mr. Little, he could cause trouble for them.

“Every man hated him in that camp. There wasn’t a one that didn’t hate him, including myself.”

Little and 42 others testified on his behalf. The defense argued he had not broken Navy regulations, which call for punishment “of any person in the Navy who refuses or fails to use his utmost exertions to detect, apprehend, and bring to punishment all offenders, or to aid all persons appointed for that purpose.” So, the argument went, Little had a duty to report offenders.

In June 1947, after five months of trial, he was found not guilty of the three charges against him — conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman, maltreatment of a person subject to his orders, and conduct to the prejudice of good order and discipline – plus 22 additional specifications.

As a POW, Szczepanski suffered from dry beriberi, dysentery, malaria, parasites in his blood, a hernia, a broken nose, a busted jaw with loss of teeth, and a broken instep from purposely crushing his foot with a chunk of coal to get out of work in the Omuta mine. Decades of mental and emotional stress followed.

He made a career of teaching Spanish at Bethlehem Catholic High School and died at 86.

“Dad never really got over what took place in the prison camps, until in the mid-1980s he finally let go,” Rick Szczepanski told me. “It didn’t bother him anymore.”

 ‘Uncle Earl, you have never been forgotten’

Private Earl Seibert came home yesterday, May 25, 2024. He’d been gone for a long time.

A burial detail removes Private Earl Seibert’s casket from a carriage May 25 at Grandview Cemetery outside Allentown.

The mechanic from Allentown, Pennsylvania, died 82 years ago in a Japanese POW camp in the Philippines. He was buried there in a common grave.

His family knew he was missing and presumed dead. Not until World War II ended did they learn he had succumbed to diphtheria in 1942 at Cabanatuan Camp 1 on Luzon. He was 23. Early this year, the Defense Department announced his remains had been identified.

Seibert arrived at Philadelphia International Airport for a “dignified transfer” on May 21. Yesterday, the military and a throng of mourners paid tribute to him at Jordan United Church of Christ and Grandview Cemetery outside Allentown. I wrote about him in February, so I had a special interest in being there.

Private Earl Seibert of Headquarters Company, 803rd Engineer Aviation Battalion, attached to the Far East Air Force in the Philippines

In the fall of 1941, Seibert and six hometown buddies shipped out to Luzon with the Army’s 803rd Engineer Aviation Battalion to work on airfields. They were at Clark Field when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the Philippines. With the surrender in April 1942, they were among thousands of U.S. and Filipino troops taken on the Bataan Death March and held in squalid camps. Only three of the seven survived.

At the church service, Seibert’s niece Ginnie-Lee Henry shared a letter she wrote that begins “Dear Uncle Earl.” She told him that his father learned from the War Department in 1951 that his remains could not be recovered.

Both his parents and his sister – Henry’s mother – and then Henry herself “started to investigate what had happened to you.” It took many years. Henry found that when the prisoners couldn’t work or got sick, they were placed in housing the Americans called Barracks 0, so called because men had a zero chance of coming out alive.

“It is believed you were placed into Barracks 0 in the beginning of July 1942. Your personal belongings were taken by the Japanese guards, including your identification tag as a souvenir. The Army believes you died at 4 a.m. on July 27, 1942, having your death recorded on a condensed milk can label by another POW. You were one of twenty who died that day.”

Seibert’s cousin Tommy Sweeney, a private in the 20th Air Base Group, also was captured on Bataan. He died at the Cabanatuan camp June 23, 1942, of Vincent’s angina .

This carriage pulled by Percheron draft horses took Seibert’s casket from Jordan United Church of Christ to Grandview Cemetery.

The POWs were exhumed at war’s end and reburied in the Manila American Cemetery, where the “unknowns” lay in a common grave. Six years ago, Henry and other family members provided their DNA to the Defense POW/MIA Accounting Agency. Last summer, it identified one set of remains as those of Seibert.

At the church yesterday, a half-open casket contained Seibert’s remains, enfolded in an Army uniform. His medals were on display, including a Bronze Star for his role in the defense of Bataan and two Purple Hearts, one because he was wounded January 16, 1942, and the other because he died at the hands of the enemy.

The Missing Man Table with a single chair was on display. On top of it was a folded American flag, a Bible, a candle, an inverted glass, a red rose in a vase tied with a yellow ribbon, a slice of lemon and some salt. The lemon is a reminder of a POW/MIA’s bitter fate. The salt symbolizes the family’s tears.

The flag is lifted from Seibert’s casket to be folded and presented to his niece Ginnie-Lee Henry.

In times of sadness, there is comfort in ritual. I felt it.

Under the noontime sun, the casket rode to the cemetery two-and-a-half miles away in a horse-drawn carriage, to the clip-clop cadence of two Percherons’ hooves. A bugler played Taps. Riflemen fired three volleys in salute. We recited the 23rd Psalm aloud. With solemn respect, two soldiers lifted the American flag off the casket and folded it precisely. Another presented it to Henry as she sobbed. Three shell casings from the rifle salute were handed to her, symbolic of duty, honor, country.

“Welcome home, Uncle Earl,” Henry had written in her letter to him. “We remembered you. So did many others, too.”