My father graduated from college in 1942 (with a rushed diploma) and joined the Army. He was assigned (recruited?) to the OSS. His first mission was to Vietnam to retrieve some Doolittle airmen. It was an incredible story; I’m sorry he never wrote about it. He only talked about it once with me and it was such a kaleidoscope that I can’t …
My father graduated from college in 1942 (with a rushed diploma) and joined the Army. He was assigned (recruited?) to the OSS. His first mission was to Vietnam to retrieve some Doolittle airmen. It was an incredible story; I’m sorry he never wrote about it. He only talked about it once with me and it was such a kaleidoscope that I can’t retrieve all the parts, except one:
He was with a radioman and, when they were attacked by Japanese troops, the radioman was lost so Dad was out of touch with the submarine. He had found the airmen but he couldn’t arrange for their pickup. The Japanese were losing territory to the Chinese and very soon the immediate area was under no one’s control. Dad went to the telegraph office and sent a wire to the American embassy, and he got a telegram back two days later saying where and when to meet the submarine.
Although he never mentioned it he was awarded the silver star, so we were told at his memorial service. However, with some snafu, he never actually received it, but said he didn’t need to bother anyone about that. The man telling us this was way up in the government, and he joked that when he would mention the subject, Dad would say oh, don’t bother about it… that’s all still classified, anyway. To which the speaker would reply, well I have the full security clearance, so…
He got a laugh.
Then he went on to say that he couldn’t leave it that way, so if we’d all bear with him, and… at that point, a full Army color guard marched down the aisle and a general stepped out of the wings and they went through the entire atten-HUP, the presention of arms, etc. and invited his widow to step up on on stage, and the tears were flooding the auditorium like it was a thunderstorm. My eyes are leaking again just writing this.
My father graduated from college in 1942 (with a rushed diploma) and joined the Army. He was assigned (recruited?) to the OSS. His first mission was to Vietnam to retrieve some Doolittle airmen. It was an incredible story; I’m sorry he never wrote about it. He only talked about it once with me and it was such a kaleidoscope that I can’t retrieve all the parts, except one:
He was with a radioman and, when they were attacked by Japanese troops, the radioman was lost so Dad was out of touch with the submarine. He had found the airmen but he couldn’t arrange for their pickup. The Japanese were losing territory to the Chinese and very soon the immediate area was under no one’s control. Dad went to the telegraph office and sent a wire to the American embassy, and he got a telegram back two days later saying where and when to meet the submarine.
Great story!
Although he never mentioned it he was awarded the silver star, so we were told at his memorial service. However, with some snafu, he never actually received it, but said he didn’t need to bother anyone about that. The man telling us this was way up in the government, and he joked that when he would mention the subject, Dad would say oh, don’t bother about it… that’s all still classified, anyway. To which the speaker would reply, well I have the full security clearance, so…
He got a laugh.
Then he went on to say that he couldn’t leave it that way, so if we’d all bear with him, and… at that point, a full Army color guard marched down the aisle and a general stepped out of the wings and they went through the entire atten-HUP, the presention of arms, etc. and invited his widow to step up on on stage, and the tears were flooding the auditorium like it was a thunderstorm. My eyes are leaking again just writing this.
That's really a terrific moment.