WW11 SURVIVOR’S VOW TO GOD  

Part Two.   Solana Beach Morrocan Bungalow 2003. Maurice was 84

            Maurice married the love of his life on December 25, 1941. They married in December because Maurice had saved one thousand dollars and made one hundred dollars a month. Agnes, his girlfriend in Grant, Iowa, is the woman who led Maurice out to Rancho Santa Fe, California, from his home in Grant. She and her father worked for Ronald McDonald, a prestigious resident in the ranch. She was responsible for housekeeping and cooking, and her father was the chauffeur.  

            Agnes and Maurice went to the US Grant Hotel for dinner and stayed at the Paris Inn on Kettner Avenue in San Diego.  The following day Agnes went off to work. Maurice stayed in the little guest house she occupied on the McDonald property. Two days later Maurice received his draft notice.  On December 31, he left his new bride and reported for duty in Escondido.   He had one short visit before he left for overseas.  Then, the next time he would see her, he would be changed. 

            Buna

            One summer evening, I was sitting on Maurice’s front porch.  Sometimes, we would sit out till after eight o’clock at night talking about different parts of Maurice’s life. Maurice is really busy in the summer; he tends to his garden of fruits and vegetables, he delivers furniture for all the Cedros merchants, and he helps his friends.  He never seems tired, he likes to sit on the porch, have a beer, and tell stories. I used to like it when my father told me stories, but they were unlike Maurice’s. There didn’t seem to be anything he

couldn’t talk about. Once he said,  ” You can ask me anything you want.”

            “Maurice, how old were you when you were drafted?”

            “Well, I was thirty-one years old in 1941 when the war broke out. I had to leave my wife, which bothered me, but I wanted to go overseas and fight for my country. There were so many nice soldiers, the best people in the world.  I recall two boys from Chicago that were only eighteen years old, they lied to get in the service, and they were the best soldiers you ever saw- they weren’t afraid of anything.”

            “Where did they send you after you left San Diego?”

            “Well, first, I went to Camp Roberts for thirteen weeks of training, but I got out in nine weeks. Then they sent me to Fort Ord to get my gear, rifles, and clothes.  We left San Francisco on April 21, 1942.  We got into Adelaide, Australia, after twenty-one days at sea.”  Maurice paused like he had to catch his breath. I watched his face, thinking he may want to stop.

            “You remember so much… Do you mind talking about it?” I asked.

            “No, I don’t mind; it changed my life, everything about it.”

             “Where did they send you after that?”

            “We trained for a while in Adelaide; the people in Australia were so happy to see us.  I remember they met us at the beach with tea and cookies. The enemy soldiers were getting close.  We went up the coast to New Guinea and into Port Moresby; we got there on Thanksgiving Day 1942. As soon as we got off the ship, the bombs hit us; it was the hundredth raid that night. The next morning we were supposed to get to the Stanley

Mountain range, we were in such a hurry. The Japanese soldiers built cement pillboxes and the army wanted us there. So we got in this plane, and they flew us there. Twenty-one at a time.      When I got to the island of Buna, there were dead soldiers scattered all over the beach.  We lost men so fast.  Then, on Christmas Day of 1942, General McArthur ordered us to advance, regardless of the cost of lives.  My division was one of the first to stop the Japanese army, the 32^nd Division. After we were immobilized and a lot of our men killed, they sent in the 41^st Division to take over.”

             Maurice’s memory was like listening to a documentary, and this was the first time a Veteran confided in me.  They didn’t get supplies at first; they had to wait till everything was shipped to Europe. They got what was left over, which wasn’t much. He ate cocoanut bark for two weeks and had no water.

            “I can remember so well the first Japanese soldier  I saw. He was sneaking through the jungle, only thirty feet off.  I don’t know if I shot him, but he dropped.  I don’t like to think I killed anyone, and it bothers me to this day that I had to kill. The Japanese were good soldiers; they had better ammunition than us.  We fought all day, and we always ran out of ammunition before they did. I’ll never forget Christmas Day of 1942.  We went into a trench to get ahead; the fellow ahead of me was cut wide open, and the guy behind was shot.  I just lay there on the ground. If you moved you’d be shot. It was so bad; I lay there all day and night. ”

            “Did you think you were going to die?”

            “I didn’t let myself think that.  I promised God that if I ever got out alive I’d never complain about anything in my life again. Nothing… nothing could be worse than that day.” 

            “You kept the promise, didn’t you?” I asked.

            “Yes, I have.”

            “And that’s why the war changed your life?” I said.

            “That’s right. Every day is a beautiful day after you’ve lived through war, at least for me,” he said.        

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