Julie Yates
Staff Reporter
June 23, 2008 09:50 am
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Part Three of a series
“The Thompson was like a lion roaring,” said World War II veteran Jack Huddleston. He positioned his hands as if holding a machine gun and raked the imaginary weapon back and forth.
Huddleston, Locust Grove, served on the Philippine islands of Leyte and Mindanou during the second World War. He carried a Thompson submachine gun he had snatched after an officer laid it down.
“It saved my life,” said Huddleston, now 82. The M1 rifles issued to soldiers were made for long range combat. M1s offered little protection in jungle fighting.
The Thompson machine guns were built for close combat. They could put out 100 rounds in less than three seconds. The roaring sound was intimidating and the enemy often could not bring up his rifle because of the noise.
Huddleston and his comrade Dave Holland welded their clips together for fast reloading. When a clip ran dry, they would flip it over, slam the new clip home and slide the bolt across it.
“We practiced flipping the clips all the time,” said Huddleston.
The Thompson was useless for longer range firing when accuracy was needed. While stationed on Leyte, Huddleston was in the town of Tacloban and stopped to drink from his canteen. Shots rang out. A company coming from the other end of town scrambled for a place to hide.
Huddleston realized the shots were coming from the roof of a nearby church. He borrowed an M1 rifle from an infantryman. Two enemy soldiers with a machine gun were hiding in the bell tower on the church steeple.
“I put a clip through the bell tower of that church,” said Huddleston. “A Japanese soldier folded over the side.”
Japanese soldiers trained dogs to hunt for Americans behind enemy lines. Several Japanese soldiers followed Huddleston with a dog as he made his way through the jungle. The dog could not be fooled.
“He’d tell on me every time I’d hide,” said Huddleston.
Huddleston dashed across a log laying over a creek. He dropped behind a mass of roots on the other side and waited for the enemy soldiers to cross. When they came within range, he shot the dog.
“That was complete elation,” Huddleston said with a laugh. “I almost forgot about the men.”
During his time on Leyte, Huddleston was assigned to the front line several times. Japanese soldiers would jump out of the jungle in a banzai attack and attack American foxholes. Huddleston said the enemies tended to charge when the Americans were leaving the
foxholes.
In one banzai, Huddleston tangled with a Japanese Imperial marine. The Imperials were hard-trained, each one weighing at least 180 pounds.
“They could run a mile with a load,” said Huddleston. He rubbed a thumb over a long white scar on the inside of his forearm.
The chow truck had come by for breakfast when the Japanese charged. Huddleston was knocked down and his gun flew to the side. The Imperial marine jumped on top of Huddleston. The thrust of his knife caught Huddleston in the arm. Huddleston, much smaller than his attacker, struggled to hold the other soldier’s knife hand. The Imperial suddenly stopped fighting.
An American soldier had run past, windmilling his rifle. The bayonet on the rifle had chopped the Imperial’s spine in two.
“He died in mid air,” said Huddleston. “I came out from under him like a greased pig.”
Huddleston never did know who saved his life.
Huddleston had been on Leyte two weeks when the Allies gained control of the island. Walking along the beach he struggled to make sense of the war.
“The sewer ditches, the hopeless hell that spread across these beaches and moved inland leaving the broken bodies and death like the plague. The smell that had gagged us all. How a breath of fresh air was noticed. ...depression twisted my insides, what good did we do? The dead would never know and the living would see the time that they would be forgotten and the history could not be written and the effects would be felt by both nations for generations to come. Just what in hell prompted any man to suppress another?.... I felt lost and alone.”
Within days Huddleston was aboard a troop ship, sailing to the island of Mindanou.
“I watched the horizon and at times it seemed the ship was sitting still and the world was out of control. I looked over the side and could see and hear the ship cut through the water and this seemed to bring everything back into perspective. I would go back into my own dreams and reflections.”
While sailing, Huddleston kept the Thompson machine gun hid under his too-large fatigue jacket. His back and ribs were sore from the gun rubbing against them. Huddleston knew he could not chance taking it off because the Thompson was against regulation for a private.
“The captain knew I had it but did not mention it,” wrote Huddleston in his memoirs. “...on several occasions he would walk up to me on deck, lay his hand on the stock and push it around to rest under my arm.”
Huddleston was with the second invasion of American troops on the western side of Mindanou. Another infantry had previously made an invasion and burned out the capital, Davou. When Huddleston’s company made the beach head, a battle flared at the capital.
Huddleston and Holland asked their captain for the first wave. They felt the company stood a better chance of reaching cover because mortar fire fell heavier on the beach after the initial wave of men.
“My family had not been one to take religion very seriously, but by the end of the day and several bullet burns, I was a firm believer in the Holy Spirit and called for His guidance as I silently tried to stay alive minute by minute.”
As the troops hit the beach, Huddleston saw the area had been ravaged by mortar fire. Huddleston and Holland reached a shell hole and slid in as shrapnel zipped like bees. A Japanese soldier lifted the door of a pillbox 30 feet away and dropped his cheek against the stock of his rifle, aiming for Huddleston. Huddleston ducked. “...the snap above my head told me I had just made it.”
Huddleston “put the Thompson up and came up behind it.” The Japanese soldier was ready and Huddleston’s ears rang. He opened up the Thompson, firing the rest of his clip through the door. The Japanese soldier flew backward.
“My arms were jerking for no apparent reason and Dave’s chin was trembling. I heard his teeth chatter. I said, ‘I think I’m falling apart.’
We crawled out of the hole and circled to the right. The tanks had made a road of sorts and we crouched and ran for a bank.... He said, ‘It sure helps to run.’ I said, ‘It sure does, if I thought I could, I’d run for home.’ He grinned, tears were running down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with the tail of his jacket and shook his shoulders. His M1 had part of the stock shot away and his canteen was gone from the pouch, just torn out.”
Huddleston and other men stopped several times to help the wounded when they could. They removed belts from injured soldiers for tourniquets.
“I’ll never understand the difference in people,” Huddleston wrote. “I was amazed at the different way each man handled things.”
Some wounded men shrieked for a medic when they could have helped themselves. Others kept fighting with an arm out of commission. Huddleston saw one soldier with an eye shot out. The soldier tore a strip of cloth, tied it over the eye socket, and went on to the fight.
When Huddleston’s company moved forward the next morning, a machine gun opened up and kept them pinned down for several minutes. Japanese soldiers had come in during the night to man the pillboxes again. “It was all to do over.” Flamethrowers sprayed the area, bringing Japanese soldiers out of the boxes at a run. Huddleston’s company pushed forward 200 yards by noon.
“They came with knee mortars first, automatic weapons and finally the infantry could be seen moving among the trees and logs in large numbers. I punched Dave and said, ‘We better move back, surely to hell the captain or someone has called for mortar or artillery fire.’
“I was too late, big mortars rained down out in front of us. Shrapnel filled the air about six feet over our heads and then I knew we were in trouble....
“Hand to hand fighting was evident everywhere. My blood turned cold. I wasn’t big enough for this kind of fight. I kept my Thompson close and started working my way back.”
The cries of wounded and dying men rose above the din of battle. The area was finally secured along the line where they had been the day before. Holland was sick from the smoke-filled air and the stench of death. After two days of heavy combat and temperatures exceeding 100 degrees, rotting bodies draped from every log pile.
Huddleston’s hands jerked and he folded them, straining to use the adrenaline.
“I needed to run a mile or scream. I couldn’t run and there was enough screaming coming from the hospital to drive everyone nuts.... The medics worked all night.”
After one early morning skirmish, stretcher-bearers were bringing wounded in to the army hospital. Huddleston said a group was coming out of a clearing when one of the stretcher-bearers fell.
“The wounded soldier thought he had been shot and jumped off the stretcher and ran through the company area and the last we seen of him he was still trucking for the beach. The stretcher-bearer rose to his knees and just shook his head as he watched his patient set a track record for the hospital. They looked around for another patient, gave up, and went on back empty.”
After several days of line duty the captain gave Huddleston and Holland a scouting mission. Huddleston was so relieved he “almost cried.”
The two scouts left the company area after first light the following morning and traveled through heavy jungle. Behind enemy lines they spent a night circling a Japanese encampment. The sun was high as they topped a rise.
The other side of the rise held what appeared to be “the whole Japanese army.” Huddleston and Holland dove into the brush and sweated as they waited to see if the Japanese had noticed them.
Holland and Huddleston circled north, a slow and tiring journey through brush and vines. American artillery drove the enemy troops into a rush to move their equipment. The trails were full of Japanese
soldiers.
Exhausted from days and nights without rest, Huddleston and Holland climbed into the mountains, where they slept. The two scouts found an observation point, drew roads and marked trails on their maps. American P51 planes bombed and strafed enemy territory to the north.
As they returned from the scouting expedition, Huddleston and Holland walked into an area being shelled by American artillery.
“I’ll never know how we survived the shelling,” Huddleston said in his memoirs. “The very jungle was laid waste.”
When the fire lifted, enemy troops moved in.
Huddleston and Holland worked their way under some trees and pulled branches over themselves. As evening came the Japanese soldiers set up camp. The moon rose and shone on sleeping enemy soldiers all around the two Americans. Huddleston knew by morning the leaves would wilt and the Japanese would discover them.
“Dave got up, jerked me to my feet and we boldly stepped through the soldiers.... I never drew a breath until we were out of there. My ears were pounding and all I could think of was to open up and run.”
Huddleston hung the Thompson around his neck. Holland gripped Huddleston’s shoulder, knowing he “was about to have a runaway.”
“Adrenaline poured and I felt light headed and about to explode. The soldiers walked to right and left of us. My hair stood on end…. Dave pushed down on my shoulder til it hurt. I think he must have been trying to keep my feet on the ground. When we cleared the camp and walked by a line of trucks it became light enough to see. The shadows of the trees saved us and we made the end of the line. The open road looked like a dream come true….”
Rounding a curve in
the night-darkened road, Huddleston and Holland broke into a run. When exhaustion slowed them to a walk Huddleston sat down in the trail with Holland, the Thompson machine gun slung over his shoulder.
Their tension gave way to a mixture of tears and laughter. They had survived by the only action that could have worked.
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.
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