Tag Archives: Flag Day

Part II, Flag Day Reflections: My Dad’s Service

Disney’s Donald Duck, WWII. I can see why Dad chose to imitate this particular character. He was very proud of his Scottish roots!

Some time ago I responded to a fellow blogger, GP, Pacific Paratrooper, a WordPress.com site of Pacific War era information (https://wordpress.com/reader/feeds/4440944/posts/5114548606) about his article, “Disney and WWII,” posted Feb. 12, 2024. The post both tickled my fancy and triggered positive childhood memories, but also, delivered a good dose of regret. I knew so little about my dad’s service, and there was no one living I could ask.  

Here is a record of our brief exchange:

Me:  My dad was a WWII Marine. I didn’t think it was odd that he could speak to my brother and me in full Donald Duck voice because he just did. He never spoke about why. He did drive us from Wisconsin to California to visit Disneyland when it opened. So much I wish I could ask him now.

GP:  May I ask what unit he was in? There might just be a good reason. Disney made training videos, etc. too.

Me:  I am ashamed to say that I don’t know his unit.

GP:  So many of us have questions we wished we had asked.

As the days passed, I kept going back to GP’s article. I couldn’t reconcile the fact that I had practically no knowledge whatsoever of my father’s service in World War II with who I believed I was: a loving daughter, a lover of history, a teacher of literature, writing, and the Holocaust, a writer of historical fiction, a devoted library worker . . . how was it that I knew so little about my own father’s relationship to such tremendously important world events?

Dad, Lori and Billy. About 1959. We lived next door to a bowling alley, but Lake Michigan was in our backyard!

An online search informed me that I could request my father’s United States Marine Corps Separation Documents and Personnel Records from the National Personnel Records Center at the National Archives, www.archives.gov. I did so, and some months later I received a short stack of copied documents dating back to my father’s voluntary enlistment the day after the Pearl Harbor attack.

I did remember that. It was one of the few stories Dad repeatedly told my brother and me, that he had waited in a line two blocks long in his hometown of Chicago, Illinois to join the Marines the day after Pearl Harbor. It painted a picture of patriotism that stayed with me. I have heard myself repeat it many times throughout my life. My dad, the story revealed, was one of the true heroes of The Greatest Generation.

Here is the rest of the story, as much as I was able to glean from the archives:

Pearl Harbor Attack. World War II Facts.org

When Pearl Harbor was attacked (December 7, 1941), William Harold Johnstone was 21 ½ years old. He had turned 21 on his Flag Day birthday, June 14, 1941. He began active duty on January 5, 1942. He was a high school graduate, and he had completed one year of college. His stated major was Pre Med. Qualified sports listed were track, football, basketball, and swimming. It was also noted that he sang in the church choir. He worked at Montgomery and Ward Co. as a silk screen printer.

I do remember my mom telling me Dad had wanted to be a doctor but that after his war injuries he had never gone back to college. I know he was always interested in medicine. Also, I remember a story about how he swam out and back to a pier or perhaps a buoy some distance off the shore of Lake Michigan and back as a teen, which I gather was somewhat of a feat / badge of honor. Also, he mentioned that at one time he had the nickname “Johnny Rock” — perhaps an homage to both his last name (Johnstone) and his physical fitness. His record shows he was 5 foot, 8 inches tall and he weighed 136 pounds. Not a big man, but strong.

Dad’s father, an immigrant from Scotland, had died when Dad was only four-years-old, so he was raised by his mother, Lorene, and her sister, Mary, along with his older brother, Donald. Tragically, Donald died at age twelve. It was then, my dad told me that he knew he had to give up childish games and work to help his mother and his aunt.

This then, is a portrait of the twenty-one-year-old man who entered the military.

My Handsome Dad

Dad’s original principle military duty early on was Surveyor 227 Rank Private First Class. USMC, 19th Marines Engineer, 3rd Marine Division Fleet Marine Force, Camp Elliott, San Diego, CA.

Later I see him listed as Private 1st Class, 339815, “I” Company, Third Battalion, 22nd Marines, Sixth Marine Division.

After his initial training, it seems Dad shipped out. The reports are difficult to decipher, but they contain notes of his being in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii; Auckland, New Zealand; Guam, Marianas Islands; Guadalcanal Island, Solomon Group; and Okinawa, Ryukyu Islands, Japan. The only detailed reports refer to Guam and Okinawa.

Guam in World War II, National Park Service

Here is Guam:

From James Forrestal, The Secretary of the Navy, Washington

The Secretary of the Navy takes pleasure in commending the First Provisional Marine Brigade for service as follows:

“For outstanding heroism in action against enemy Japanese forces, during the invasion of Guam, Marianas Islands, from July 21 to August 10, 1944. Functioning as a combat unit for the first time, the First Provisional Marine Brigade forced a landing against strong hostile defenses and well camouflaged positions, steadily advancing inland under the relentless fury of the enemy’s heavy artillery, mortar and small arms fire to secure a firm beachhead by nightfall.

Executing a difficult turning movement to the north, this daring and courageous unit fought its way ahead yard by yard through mangrove swamps, dense jungles and over cliffs and, although terrifically reduced in strength under the enemy’s fanatical counterattacks, hunted the Japanese in caves, pillboxes and foxholes and exterminated them.

By their individual acts of gallantry and their indomitable fighting teamwork throughout this bitter and costly struggle, the men of the First provisional Marine Brigade aided immeasurably in the restoration of Guam to our sovereignty.”

All personnel serving the First Provisional Marine Brigade, comprised of: Headquarters Company; Brigade Signal Company; Brigade military Police Company; 4th Marines, Reinforced; 22nd Marines, Reinforced; Naval Construction Battalion Maintenance Unit 515, and 4th Platoon, 2nd Marine Ammunition Company, during the above mentioned period are hereby authorized to wear the NAVY UNIT COMMENDATION Ribbon.

My dad never described any of these experiences to me, and I don’t remember ever seeing that Commendation Ribbon. I hope he was able to talk about it with someone, but I do not know if that was the case. It grieves me.

On Okinawa:

The next specific report in the records begins with a Report of Combat Casualties, which states that William H. Johnstone of the Twenty Second Marines, Sixth Marine Division was Wounded in Action on May 12, 1945 on the island of Okinawa, Ryukyu Islands. Recorded on 13 May 1945. Diagnosis: Wound Fragment Face. Prognosis: Serious.

On 18 May 1945, U.S. Fleet Hospital No. 111 reports William H. Johnstone, Wounds, Multiple. Wounded in action against an organized enemy. Shell struck near patient causing injury.

A U.S. Fleet Hospital letter to my grandmother, written July 1, 1945 reports Dad’s condition as good, and states that he will be returned to active duty in the near future, so it looks like he was hospitalized for approximately a month and a half.

The record states:

In the name of the President of the United States, and by direction of the Commander in Chief, U.S. Pacific Fleet, the Purple Heart is awarded by the Medical Officer in Command, U.S. Fleet Hospital Number One Hundred and Eleven to: William H. Johnstone, Private 1st Class, USMC for wounds received in action against an enemy of the United States on 14 May 1945.

The battle of Okinawa “was one of the bloodiest in the Pacific War, claiming the lives of more than 12,000 Americans and 100,000 Japanese, including the commanding generals on both sides. In addition, at least 100,000 civilians were either killed in combat or were ordered to commit suicide by the Japanese military (Battle of Okinawa | Map, Combatants, Facts, Casualties, & Outcome | Britannica).

Battle of Okinawa, Brittanica

I do remember seeing the Purple Heart. My father gave it to my brother. Unfortunately, it was lost during my brother’s divorce, and it was never returned to the family.

I would like to thank GP and his Pacific Paratrooper WordPress blog for getting me started on this mission of discovery. Without his article on Disney in the Military and my memories of a loving father amusing my brother and me with an array of his silly Donald Duck performances, I doubt that I would have been able to share this information with my children and grandchildren. So, thank you, GP!

And thanks to all my readers.

I love you, Dad.

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Filed under Family, Memories, Research, The Greatest Generation, Uncategorized, World War II

Flag Day Reflections, Part I

About sixty years ago on Flag Day, two little girls got up early in the morning and went to work in the kitchen, making cupcakes. These little girls had met when their moms rented apartments next door to one another after their marriages ended, and the girls had become fast and, it has turned out, life-long friends.

Cheryl was the host. I was staying at her house for an extended visit, as I did most holidays and summer breaks from school.

My mom had moved away from Cheryl’s town and taken my brother and I with her, but my dad remained. He lived in a men’s only residence in downtown Kenosha, Wisconsin, about 19 blocks away from Cheryl’s house, so I could never stay with him, but I was lucky to have Cheryl and her dear mom, Marion, welcome me in whenever I could come. Marion was an X-ray technician at St. Catherine’s Hospital and left the house before dawn most mornings to work, so Cheryl and I were on our own.

My hosts, a few years later

The cupcakes turned out well, and we set out. It was my dad’s birthday, and we were going to surprise him with the cupcakes. As often happens in life, the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. As we walked, we were tempted to eat first one, then two, and then ultimately all three of the cupcakes we planned to share with Dad.

Oops!

We mustered on, and eventually arrived at the imposing building where Dad resided, standing at the front desk of the huge lobby, two little chocolate-smudged waifs, empty handed, tired and thirsty. The attendant rang Dad’s room and he came down.

The former Kenosha Youth Foundation building (now Residences at Library Park) where my rented a room for many years. I believe it was in the front, left, on the upper floor.

We got the surprise part of our visit right. Dad had certainly not expected us to walk so far at our young age, unattended. I honestly don’t remember exactly how old Cheryl and I were that summer, but I remember being small in the distant way adults remember such things.

“Happy Birthday, Dad! We made you cupcakes, Dad, but we got hungry.”

It’s a story my dad always told with affectionate tenderness.

All these years later, that Flag Day is on my mind, along with so many other thoughts and feelings that I believe must be expressed. These are complicated times. . .

My father was a World War II United States Marine Corps veteran, something my brother and I were always aware of. We knew the Marine’s Hymn, and we knew he had learned to talk like Donald Duck while he was in the service, but he was a quiet man who never spoke to us of his battle experiences. Other than his Purple Heart, we never saw a uniform, a gun, or any military artifacts in our home while he lived with us, nor did I find any among his possessions after he died.

Dad was playful and sentimental with us, teaching us about nature and camping and the stars. On his Flag Day birthdays, he enjoyed the simple things—cake and ice cream, tea or coffee, a home-made dinner. He did not use profanity, never used derogatory terms when referring to other people, and abstained from smoking and alcohol, all of which were somewhat unusual among his peers. He believed in staying fit, mind and body.

Dad and Cheryl on one of our many blue tent camping trips.

For many years, while living at the Kenosha Youth Foundation, he walked across the lawn, past its statue of Abraham Lincoln, into the beautiful old library where he read several daily newspapers, and enjoyed reading non-fiction books, mostly medical titles, as I recall. He continued a daily walking regimen all his life.

My Dad

This gentle man died long before the current resident of our White house launched his political campaign, so I cannot say for certain how he would feel about sharing his birthday with him, or whether he would support his policies. Dad was a Republican so I imagine this last decade would have been a challenge for him, certainly in different ways, but perhaps just as powerfully as it has been for me. Dad’s nature was the very opposite of this president. I like to think he would not have voted for him or supported him.

These are the musings of a daughter, his only living child, as the president of United States of America is set to preside over a huge military parade in Washington D.C. for the Army’s 250th birthday. And as National Guard troops and U.S. marines are staked out in the city of Los Angeles against the wishes of the governor and mayor. As ICE agents conduct raids, sweeping up suspected undocumented immigrants. As many of our government agencies are gutted, our history is being rewritten, and kindness and love and We the People seem forgotten.

But also, as over 2000 gatherings of everyday citizens in America and around the world will be protesting.

I will be among them.

I hope he would be proud, but I do not know.

What I do know is that even if he wasn’t proud of my participation, or he didn’t want me to attend because he feared for my safety, he would not try to stop me. He believed in all of the freedoms he fought so hard for in World War II. And I know that no matter what, he would hug me and tell me he loved me as he always did, throughout the many mistakes, successes, and milestones, large and small, of my life.

And if we could spend his birthday together this Flag Day, I know he would smile and tell the story of the little cupcake girls who visited him on his birthday.

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Filed under Memories, Relationship, The Greatest Generation, Uncategorized, United States Politics, World War II