Reliving Battle of Midway

June 3, 2007

BY PATRICK FERRELL Herald News

For two days, Bob Randolph survived on 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 powerhouse," Randolph said. "The stink was so bad from the guys that got blown apart there."

Sixty-five years ago Monday, Randolph saw friends and colleagues -- more than 300 -- die in the Battle of Midway, the mid-1942 battle 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, sank four aircraft carriers and destroyed all but 20 of the Japanese planes in 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."

Randolph, whose father was an Army officer during World War I, enlisted in the Marines shortly after he graduated from high school. 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," he said. "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.

"Then they asked me if I wanted to be a rear-seat gunner on a dive bomber. ... You would be doing some flying, and you got a chance to shoot at somebody."

It turns out the gunner's 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 persuaded 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."

Today, Randolph lives on a fixed income in a Joliet town house he shares with his wife, Jean.

Sun-Times News Group

Ellie