Adventure in the Pacific

Looking back at your very distinguished military career, both in war and peace, what remains in your mind as a kind of anecdote, or tale that you might tell us that captures the essence of being a soldier?

Of course, it has to do with my experiences during World War II. I was at Pearl Harbor when the Japanese struck, and shortly after that, President Roosevelt announced that he was sending reinforcements to the Philippines. My squadron turned out to be the reinforcements. We had lost all our aircraft in the Japanese attack and we were sent twelve new aircraft from continental U.S. In those days there were no airfields between Hawaii and Hong Kong or Tokyo or Singapore. It was all sea planes. So in order to get to the Philippines we took off from Hawaii, went to the Canton Islands, down to the Fiji Islands, over to Noumea, then to Townsville, Australia; Darwin, Australia; and finally wound up at Surabaya, Java.

At that time, the Japanese were moving rapidly down through that entire area. We didn't get to the Philippines because the Japanese were there first. But anyway, we were operating in that area. The four carriers that were at Pearl Harbor were then ordered to come and attack Darwin, Australia, which is on the northwest part of Australia, something like Seattle is for us. So I was looking for those aircraft carriers, and I found them, and I was shot down. I was in the water awhile. All my crew got out though, I managed to land the aircraft even though there was a fire, and we got clear of the plane.

All of a sudden I looked out and a ship was approaching us. It turned out to be a Philippines flagship. They picked us up. After I had discussions with the captain, I learned that it was loaded with ammunition headed for Corregidor. The United States had chartered six ships, each of which to go a different route, hoping one would succeed. When I realized that a) it was full of ammunition and, b) we were going to get attacked any minute, I ordered my crew back on the stern and told them that when we saw the bombs falling they were to jump overboard, which we did. The first bomb hit us about 2:00 that evening. It blew the bow off the ship. The ship immediately sank, leaving the stern clear. After the Japanese left I climbed back aboard and we cut the life boats loose. I put my copilot in one and we got in the other and we paddled around and picked up the surviving Filipinos. There were about forty-two of them, I think, although some of them died later.

I planned to set sail for Darwin, Australia. These lifeboats had one weakness in them in the sense that they had no compass and no water, which are the vital things when you're sailing around in the ocean you know.

And being shot at.

Getting shot at at the same time. But in any event, I used the Southern Cross, which was quite visible, and estimated the course and rigged sail. We did have a case of condensed milk, and that kept us alive. At least we could stand the thirst. I haven't touched a drop of it since, but it tasted very good then. A few nights later I heard the surf and we beached the boats at midnight. Of course, the young Filipinos, as soon as we touched land, they leaped out of the boats and ran into the jungle. They'd had enough of this war. Some day I'm going back down there and tell them the war's over, 'cause I know they're hiding in that jungle even to this day.

We were on the island a while. It was beautiful beach. Then we wrote, in letters this high, and about 8 feet long, "WATER - MEDICINE." A couple of days later an Australian reconnaissance plane came over. He dipped his wings, dropped a note that said, "I'll be back." He came back, dropped another note that said, "We'll pick you up at daylight." At daylight, sure enough, an Australian corvette was standing off, sent a boat, picked us up, and we headed for Darwin. Well, we just got on the way good when the Japanese came over and attacked this ship. It was a flying boat, "Emily" flying boat, we called it, conducting horizontal bombing. They made several passes, dropping one bomb at a time. No luck for them, plenty of luck for us: they didn't touch us. We finally arrived in Darwin. The captain says, "I have another mission, I have to put you ashore." He put us ashore. I had been there once before. We went to the hotel. There wasn't a human soul in town, man, woman, or child. Everyone of them had left when the Japanese attacked.

This is in Australia now.

The one hotel there, and they had left so quickly that they didn't lock anything. There was whiskey on the bar, steaks in the icebox, and we set up shop.

Almost like a science fiction film come to life.

Yeah. We stayed there until three days later, the military police came back in. I had them send a message to my squadron, which by that time, incidentally, had moved all the way down to Perth, Australia. So they sent a plane and picked us up.

There's a kind of a sequel to that because a man wrote a book entitled Australia's Pearl Harbor. In it -- this was after I became Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff -- he said I was killed that day. So I had to write him a letter and ask him to correct that page. I told him that was a slight error.

So, one thing led to another, and the young ensign on the corvette that had pulled me aboard (I had been shot in the leg) turned out to be a big businessman later on that was very interested in the Cup race where the Australians beat us at Newport. So we got together, started exchanging correspondence, and he got very boastful, I thought. He sent me all the copies of the Perth Yacht Club and everything. One year later I got even with him, because the races were held down at Perth and we turned the table on them. But it just shows how a sequence of human contacts can develop over the years.

What did you learn from this rather frightening war incident that you took with you when you became a commander later in life?

The main lesson that I got from that had to do with reorienting my sense of values. I realized what was important and what was not important. Of course, survival is very important, and how the people around you behave and how you can help them, and so on. I made up my mind that I was not going to be worried in the least in the future by any ordinary things. It changed my sense of values. I have been in many crises since then, I've flown a lot and I've been in potential disasters, but I just don't worry about things like that anymore.

So worry, fear about the consequences of what you're doing?

Yeah.

Did it help make you a better military commander?

Yes, and I think it made me better able to deal with people in general, because I recognize that so many of the things that they are worrying about are inconsequential compared to the worry you can really have. If you want to really get worried, just leap out in the middle of the ocean and let somebody drop a few bombs around you and you can really get worried. It's a matter of relativity. So many people in the country today and the world today, frankly, have nervous breakdowns over what I consider to be nothing.

As the head of military bureaucracies, did this experience also instill in you a concern about provisions for your soldiers under you? You mentioned that at a crucial point there was no water and not a compass on your lifeboats.

Oh yes, I think it's vital that any commander, and for that matter any leader or any executive, anyone in charge, the president of this great university, for instance, must be concerned about the people that he's dealing with. I've said many times to young people that are beginning a career of one kind or another that it's not the people that you work for that make you look good, it's the people that work for you. So you should spend your time on them and not on your boss.

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