thedrifter
05-21-09, 08:09 AM
Joliet man can't forget realities of battle
Comments
May 21, 2009
By PATRICK FERRELL Sun-Times News Group
This story, published June 3, 2007, details Bob Randolph's experience in the Battle of Midway, and his reasons for joining the military.
JOLIET — For two days, Bob Randolph survived on only soup at a place so littered with death, he had to blow flies off the top of the bowl so he could bring his lips to the hot broth.
"The worst part of it was the flies, the flies from the guys who got killed in the power house," Randolph said. "Every time you went by the power house, the stink was so bad from the guys that got blown apart there."
Sixty-five years ago tomorrow, Randolph watched friends and colleagues — some 307 — die in the Battle of Midway, the mid-1942 battle that is generally regarded as the turning point of World War II in the Pacific.
Outnumbered U.S. forces — tipped off to an imminent Japanese attack on the atoll — were at the ready and killed more than 3,000 Japanese forces, sunk four aircraft carriers and destroyed all but 20 of the Japanese planes that were at the battle.
But, for those who fought, the battle was more than numbers. It was about lives. And even though the conflict occurred four heart attacks ago in Randolph's life, it still hangs heavy on his mind.
"They always said a Marine never cries, you just shed a tear," he said. "That don't mean nothing, especially now this time of year when the first of June comes around.
"Every night, I wake up and my wife wonders what's the matter. I'm fighting like hell. The worst thing is losing friends. I lost a hell of a lot of them over there."
'Mad at the world'
Randolph, whose father was an Army officer during World War I, enlisted in the Marines shortly after he graduated from high school. The 17-year-old had a job with a roofing contractor and was hunting along the I%26M Canal with his buddy the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in December 1941.
"I was talking to my dad about what happened," Randolph said. "He wanted to go back in but they wouldn't take him. He said, 'Somebody's gotta go to the service.' Me and my buddy . we went down the next day and joined the Marine Corps." According to Randolph — now a tall, yet frail 83-year-old — his teenage self was "mad at the world like everybody else."
"We didn't know where Pearl Harbor was. We were just like everybody else, wanting to go get even with them and do our share of damage."
In basic training, the Marines wanted Randolph to be a parachute rigger, a job he turned down.
"What made up my mind is they said you have to jump out and test your own parachute after you pack it," Randolph said. "Then they asked me if I wanted to be a rear-seat gunner on a dive bomber. I said, 'Yeah, I would like that.'
"You would be doing some flying and you got a chance to shoot at somebody.
"A lot of things go through your head as a kid like that. You are mad at the world and want to get even with somebody."
It turns out the gunners job would eventually save Randolph's life in a twisted way.
A few days after the battle, Randolph was supposed to go out on a surveillance mission. His buddy, Henry Zurawski, instead convinced Randolph to let him ride so he could get more experience.
Zurawski's plane never returned, and Randolph still carries the telegram informing Zurawski's parents that he had died.
"Old Zurawski, I owe my life to him," Randolph said. "I look at that every so often to remind myself how lucky I am. Sometimes, it brings tears to your eye."
The battle
Based largely on decoding Japanese radio signals, the U.S. forces had predicted Japan would try to take Midway Island, which sits about 1,200 miles west of Hawaii.
When the Japanese planes took off to attack the island, American aircraft carriers waiting nearby launched their planes and sank all four Japanese carriers within the first day.
Randolph, one of the newest gunners on the base, didn't have a plane to ride in that first day. Instead, he mainly hung out in the barracks with his squadron as Japanese bombers struck.
"The first thing they did was hit our mess hall. Then they bombed our power plant," Randolph said. "They never dropped a bomb on the runway, which we were surprised at. They were so intent on taking the island, that they never hit the runway."
That evening, Randolph was ordered to fly.
"That night, I was never more scared in my life," Randolph said of the walk to his plane. "I was scared. I was just a kid. They kept saying the commandoes were coming in on rubber boats and submarines.
"I had to go down there to my plane, and ... I had a machine gun in one hand and a knife in the other."
After the battle, the Midway atoll was without power for days; for the first three days, the only ration available was soup, Randolph said.
At some point, U.S. forces gave their deceased brethren the best burial they could, and the flies dissipated.
"You couldn't give them a decent burial," Randolph said. "They would put them in a bag, bring them out to sea and dump them in.
"You would have maybe six or eight guys there. There was a color guard there who would salute them and play taps.
"Even to this day, when I hear taps, that kills me."
Keeping in touch
Now, Randolph lives on a fixed income in a Joliet townhouse he shares with his wife, Jean, a family friend he got to know while writing letters back and forth to America during the war.
Every Christmas, he receives a phone call from John Todorich, a fellow Marine, who saved Randolph's life when Randolph slipped down a cargo net between an aircraft carrier and a smaller boat.
"He calls me every Christmas and says, 'Remember when we were on the Liberty Boats?' Then we each have a drink of booze," Randolph said.
He's toyed with the idea of visiting Todorich, whose wife recently passed away. He's also thought about taking a reunion trip to Midway. Finances, however, are tight and preclude either, Randolph said.
Since the battle, Randolph has also thought about visiting
Zurawski's parents and letting them know their son died taking Randolph's ride.
However, something has always kept him away.
For now, Randolph reminisces with a scrapbook he compiled using photographs he took using a small camera he wasn't supposed to have.
He rattles off names of men in the pictures as if they were brothers.
The front of the scrapbook includes several small stickers, which read, "We'll hold Midway 'til Hell freezes over."
As far as Randolph is concerned, that won't ever happen. After all, the weather on Midway Island never reaches below 60 degrees.
Ellie
Comments
May 21, 2009
By PATRICK FERRELL Sun-Times News Group
This story, published June 3, 2007, details Bob Randolph's experience in the Battle of Midway, and his reasons for joining the military.
JOLIET — For two days, Bob Randolph survived on only soup at a place so littered with death, he had to blow flies off the top of the bowl so he could bring his lips to the hot broth.
"The worst part of it was the flies, the flies from the guys who got killed in the power house," Randolph said. "Every time you went by the power house, the stink was so bad from the guys that got blown apart there."
Sixty-five years ago tomorrow, Randolph watched friends and colleagues — some 307 — die in the Battle of Midway, the mid-1942 battle that is generally regarded as the turning point of World War II in the Pacific.
Outnumbered U.S. forces — tipped off to an imminent Japanese attack on the atoll — were at the ready and killed more than 3,000 Japanese forces, sunk four aircraft carriers and destroyed all but 20 of the Japanese planes that were at the battle.
But, for those who fought, the battle was more than numbers. It was about lives. And even though the conflict occurred four heart attacks ago in Randolph's life, it still hangs heavy on his mind.
"They always said a Marine never cries, you just shed a tear," he said. "That don't mean nothing, especially now this time of year when the first of June comes around.
"Every night, I wake up and my wife wonders what's the matter. I'm fighting like hell. The worst thing is losing friends. I lost a hell of a lot of them over there."
'Mad at the world'
Randolph, whose father was an Army officer during World War I, enlisted in the Marines shortly after he graduated from high school. The 17-year-old had a job with a roofing contractor and was hunting along the I%26M Canal with his buddy the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in December 1941.
"I was talking to my dad about what happened," Randolph said. "He wanted to go back in but they wouldn't take him. He said, 'Somebody's gotta go to the service.' Me and my buddy . we went down the next day and joined the Marine Corps." According to Randolph — now a tall, yet frail 83-year-old — his teenage self was "mad at the world like everybody else."
"We didn't know where Pearl Harbor was. We were just like everybody else, wanting to go get even with them and do our share of damage."
In basic training, the Marines wanted Randolph to be a parachute rigger, a job he turned down.
"What made up my mind is they said you have to jump out and test your own parachute after you pack it," Randolph said. "Then they asked me if I wanted to be a rear-seat gunner on a dive bomber. I said, 'Yeah, I would like that.'
"You would be doing some flying and you got a chance to shoot at somebody.
"A lot of things go through your head as a kid like that. You are mad at the world and want to get even with somebody."
It turns out the gunners job would eventually save Randolph's life in a twisted way.
A few days after the battle, Randolph was supposed to go out on a surveillance mission. His buddy, Henry Zurawski, instead convinced Randolph to let him ride so he could get more experience.
Zurawski's plane never returned, and Randolph still carries the telegram informing Zurawski's parents that he had died.
"Old Zurawski, I owe my life to him," Randolph said. "I look at that every so often to remind myself how lucky I am. Sometimes, it brings tears to your eye."
The battle
Based largely on decoding Japanese radio signals, the U.S. forces had predicted Japan would try to take Midway Island, which sits about 1,200 miles west of Hawaii.
When the Japanese planes took off to attack the island, American aircraft carriers waiting nearby launched their planes and sank all four Japanese carriers within the first day.
Randolph, one of the newest gunners on the base, didn't have a plane to ride in that first day. Instead, he mainly hung out in the barracks with his squadron as Japanese bombers struck.
"The first thing they did was hit our mess hall. Then they bombed our power plant," Randolph said. "They never dropped a bomb on the runway, which we were surprised at. They were so intent on taking the island, that they never hit the runway."
That evening, Randolph was ordered to fly.
"That night, I was never more scared in my life," Randolph said of the walk to his plane. "I was scared. I was just a kid. They kept saying the commandoes were coming in on rubber boats and submarines.
"I had to go down there to my plane, and ... I had a machine gun in one hand and a knife in the other."
After the battle, the Midway atoll was without power for days; for the first three days, the only ration available was soup, Randolph said.
At some point, U.S. forces gave their deceased brethren the best burial they could, and the flies dissipated.
"You couldn't give them a decent burial," Randolph said. "They would put them in a bag, bring them out to sea and dump them in.
"You would have maybe six or eight guys there. There was a color guard there who would salute them and play taps.
"Even to this day, when I hear taps, that kills me."
Keeping in touch
Now, Randolph lives on a fixed income in a Joliet townhouse he shares with his wife, Jean, a family friend he got to know while writing letters back and forth to America during the war.
Every Christmas, he receives a phone call from John Todorich, a fellow Marine, who saved Randolph's life when Randolph slipped down a cargo net between an aircraft carrier and a smaller boat.
"He calls me every Christmas and says, 'Remember when we were on the Liberty Boats?' Then we each have a drink of booze," Randolph said.
He's toyed with the idea of visiting Todorich, whose wife recently passed away. He's also thought about taking a reunion trip to Midway. Finances, however, are tight and preclude either, Randolph said.
Since the battle, Randolph has also thought about visiting
Zurawski's parents and letting them know their son died taking Randolph's ride.
However, something has always kept him away.
For now, Randolph reminisces with a scrapbook he compiled using photographs he took using a small camera he wasn't supposed to have.
He rattles off names of men in the pictures as if they were brothers.
The front of the scrapbook includes several small stickers, which read, "We'll hold Midway 'til Hell freezes over."
As far as Randolph is concerned, that won't ever happen. After all, the weather on Midway Island never reaches below 60 degrees.
Ellie