On December 3, 1944, my Dad, Motor Machinist Mate First Class William Elliott Johnston and the crew of the Minesweeper USS. YMS 426, were given three hours notice that they were leaving San Francisco for Pearl Harbor.
Dad had expected my Mother to join him in California during the four month “shake down” of the newly commissioned ship. Mom had been with him the year before and lived with his aunt in Berkeley. Orders were issued that no one was to inform anyone, including family, that they were sailing. The YMS 426 would just disappear.
Dad started writing my Mom a letter on December 4, only ending after the ship's “first two runs” at the beginning of the invasion of Iwo Jima.
Dad knew exactly what he was doing - “I'm going to keep writing to you letters the censor wouldn't let go...when I have a chance I will send them back to the states in one stack.”
I found the letter tucked among family papers going back to the 1920s, tied with string and buried under bundles of letters my Mom had written Dad from September 1941 (when they met) to October 1945. This wealth of family history lay undisturbed for over sixty years – a priceless treasure.
Not only did the letters provide insight into the daily lives of sailors in one of the most hostile environments of WWII and the reactions of his shipmates to the very real dangers surrounding them daily, but I read of the deep love my father had for my mother. My Mom was pregnant with me when Dad left and he wrote, “I'm glad that 'Jake' (my nick name even after I was born) is coming, he should be quite a boy or girl when I see him.” I was six months old when Dad got home. I enjoyed reading his affectionate references to 'Jake.' All too often in the years to come our relationship could be rocky and distance.
As the YMS 426 crossed the Pacific, he wrote, “This ship sure does leak! Water is coming down nearly all the bulkheads in the engine room and there is a creek running by my bunk – I've got my eye on it.” On reaching Pearl Harbor Dad was surprised, “Pearl Harbor has more ships in one spot than I've ever seen before...there must be something big coming up.” There was and he was going to be right in the middle of it.
The first week of February there was “a lot of talk about taking over the Bonin Islands (Iwo Jima) some seven hundred miles north of us and the same distance south of Tokyo and a couple of days later we found out for sure we were going.” They left Tinian to join the rest of “the sweeps.” He reasoned, “It seems we're going to sweep for two days before they land and at some time shell the beach.”
Sounding optimistic Dad wrote “We're going to start sweeping tomorrow so I'll find out how it works out.” Then he added “I'd better not send you this letter until we are all finished with the landings and sweeping or you would be worried - but the way it looks to me it will be quite safe.”
The last page of the letter was written on the night of February 17, 1945 and ends. Never sent and unread for sixty years! The Marines started landing on Iwo Jima February 19th. There were 20,000 Japanese dug in and 90 percent of them would be dead before the American victory. A victory that came at the cost of 6,000 US Marine lives. A high price paid for the island creating a critically needed landing field for B-29's bombing the Japanese mainland. The landing was made possible by the formidable Navy armada that started with three days of pre-landing preparations. Minesweepers cleared the waters for the landing and the supplies to support it. My Dad was part of the operation from day one.
M/M1C Johnston's role in this historic drama was just one in the thousands involved in the invasion of Iwo Jima and he survived when many thousands didn't. Dad talked about his experiences in World War II because he understood the history he had been part of and he wanted his children to understand how important it was to our country and our family history.
I only wish I had listened more and asked more questions! Although I remember an evening when I was 15, I told Dad if I ever joined the military I would be a Marine and he said, “Let me tell you what I saw at Iwo Jima.” Did I mention I am a veteran of the United States Air Force?
Bill Johnston lives in Tacoma where his father’s ship was built. He has indexed his parents’ letters from 1941 to 1945. When finished they will be archived in the Library of Congress.
This article appeared in the November 2012 issue of Northwest Prime Time, the Puget Sound region’s monthly publication celebrating life after 50.