To write or not to write, that is the question. For several years I have been wrestling with the idea of writing a book about my World War II experiences. I kept coming up with reasons to and not to, and finally, as I pass my 90th birthday, I think the pros outweigh the cons.
Part of the concern is that writing about oneself seems like the ultimate ego trip. Since I don’t think of myself as a “hero” or certainly not a military historian, why write? On the other hand, I have had experiences that no one else has had, and if I don’t write them down, no one else can or will.
Being 90 and 71 years after the Battle for Okinawa, with a little inertia probably thrown in, could easily be a deterrent. However, this could also be a plus factor since memories are still vivid and clear. What I don’t know now I probably didn’t know then either. We didn’t have nametags, wore no insignia, had no outside radio, newspapers, magazines, could not keep diaries (Sledge not withstanding) and so had little information or communication.
We were informed of the death of President and Commander in Chief Franklin Roosevelt, Victory in Europe and the sinking of the Yamato and General Buckner’s death by Army radio and word of mouth, mostly though we existed, or rather survived, in our own little world at the Infantry Company level.
With some variations, of course, I am impressed with the similarities between my experiences and observations in I Company 184th Infantry, 7th Division and those written about by Sledge, Sloan and Green and even those illustrated in Saving Private Ryan, Band of Brothers and The War (Ken Burns).
I have some 30 books, half books or books with a chapter on Okinawa as well as articles and 25 other books on general or other World War II subjects. Thus, it would seem that any more would be overkill and redundant. However, most are by historians about the battles and few are by participants. I have only one book by a Japanese (Yahara), one by an Okinawan (Ota), one by a Marine (Sledge) and one by an Army tanker (Green) with none by an Army infantryman. Of the historical writings, they tend to run about 75 percent about Marine activities and about 25 percent on the Army—although they purport to tell about “all the major battles on Okinawa.”
Many of my brothers in arms never made it back or have died since and can never record their experiences. Therefore, I feel a solemn obligation to speak for them as well as tell my own story.
I have been urged by several people to write this account, especially Dr. Don Miller and my son, Lane Rees.
After reading Sledge’s With the Old Breed and Burchett’s Last Light (a poignant account of a preacher’s wife and her gradual succumbing to the ravages of Alzheimer’s Disease), I told my younger daughter, “I could have written those. They closely parallel my own situations and experiences.” Her reply was, “Well, why don’t you? It’s never too late.”
As I was recently going through some boxes in my garage, looking for the books I have by Ernie Pyle and Bill Mauldin, I came across a treasure trove of papers and memorabilia of my late brother, Gil. I was very interested in and impressed by his service in the Navy (some of which I knew about and some I didn’t). Suddenly I had an epiphany that I should write about the Rees brothers.
When I was recently reading Bob Green’s book, Okinawa Odyssey, I was frustrated with the lengthy history about his grandfather, father, the Green Ranch, his boyhood and going to New Mexico Military Institute prior to his Army experiences. Later I came to realize that we are all a product of our family and life experiences. Thus, this background information helps me to know a lot more about Bob Green the tanker.
So, I am including probably more than you want to know about our lives before World War II, our experiences during the war, and some of the post-war information. This information will, collectively, give you a better picture of who we are.
I need to apologize early on for the obvious imbalance between writings about Gil and myself. Since I am writing this book and since he died young (at 28 in 1953), I know a lot more about myself than about him. I cannot obtain much more about his life (although I did get his Navy records from the government storage center in St. Louis) but thought it important to include his life story and what I do know.
When I was in combat on Okinawa at the young age of 19, I had absolutely no qualms about killing the Japanese. Later, after becoming a Christian, I had periods of remorse. I knew I was forgiven and that killing in wartime combat is not like killing in civilian life. I have been back and forth on this and generally conclude that it’s water under the bridge, cannot be changed, and have moved on with life.
It is a miracle that the process of war can take young, good, ordinary men out of society and transform them into such efficient killers. Another miracle is that society can integrate the survivors back as good, ordinary people. The greatest miracle is that anyone could survive the living hell of the carnage of war. But we did, and this, then, is our story.