My Weekend With Paw Paw

By Clara Smith

Editor's Note:  No, this article has virtually nothing to do with Paris or hobos.  So why is it here?  As you have probably gathered from past articles about WWII history in France, I have a particular interest in war history.  Partly because my grandfather fought in France during WWII.  This article was written by one of my dear friends from high school.  While I was hearing about France and the Nazis with my family over Sunday supper, she was hearing about Japan and the Pacific Theatre from her grandfather across town.  When I was a college student, I rented a room in her grandfather's basement and had the pleasure of hearing these stories firsthand.  So when Clara told me about her trip, I asked her if I could please share it.  The best way I can tie this in is to say that while most of us choose to leave our countries as a matter of lifestyle, others have done so as a matter of duty, service and sacrifice. 

So with Paw Paw's permission, here is his story: 

~~~~~~~~~

This past weekend, I embarked on a trip that has surely left a lasting impression on me and has changed my life in many ways.  

I accompanied my maternal grandfather, Colonel Ben Skardon (90 years old), on a voyage from Clemson, S.C. to a military base in the New Mexico desert called White Sands Missile Range, near Las Cruces.

Paw Paw with other survivors going to the seminars

The event of the weekend was their annual Bataan Memorial Death March.  This weekend is a time to remember the brave soldiers that gave their lives or survived a brutal and unforgiving Japanese internment in the Philippines while trying to fight for our country during World War II.  Many were stationed on the Bataan Peninsula and most did not make it home for 4 years.  

When the American forces were surrendered to the Japanese, they were forced to march for up to 90 miles through the jungle over the course of 8 or 9 days, given little to no food and most fighting any number of diseases/infections such as dysentery and beri beri.  The men endured a complete stripping of their belongings, as well as their humility and pride.  Many were beaten to death or bayoneted or shot or worse.  

My grandfather almost died twice during this march from starvation and disease, but his two best friends helped him survive and instilled a sense of loyalty that most cannot comprehend.  After the march, they were held in prison camps, my grandfather in Camp O'Donnell, where healthier men had to bury their own friends and other soldiers.  He was then moved to the larger work Camp at Cabanatuan. 

After two years was sent along with 1,600 other soldiers to the Japanese hell ship named the Oryoku Maru, where soldiers were stuffed into 3 hold areas, each man sitting in between the legs of the man behind.  This 47-day nightmare of horrendous inhumanity was altered when U.S. Naval planes dive-bombed the ship, killing hundreds of U.S. soldiers that were crushed into the hold of the ship (the boats were intentionally painted with no markings, so they had no idea U.S. POWs were on board).  

My grandfather swam out through a torpedo hole to see hundreds of bobbing heads floating in the ocean. They floated to shore but many were shot to death by Japanese soldiers.  The prisoners were then put on another hell ship, the Enoura Maru, which was also sunk by the U.S. forces, and then finally the Brazil Maru, which made it to Japan with only about 400 of the original 1,600 American soldiers.  

They were then taken to Manchuria where their camp was eventually liberated by Russian soldiers.  Upon liberation, my grandfather had lost innumerable friends but survived, thanks to the help of two dear friends, his wit and will. 

At the start of the race

This weekend was a tribute to the endurance of those soldiers that fought in the Philippines.  On Sunday morning at sunrise, the 4,000-plus marchers gathered for convocation and Taps.  The beautifully entwined melodies of the two trumpets seem to call the sun forth for this solemn and stirring event.  The New Mexico National Guard lost an unusually high percentage of men in the Bataan Death March, so it is particularly meaningful there.  

About 20 survivors were able to attend to share their tales in individual seminars on Saturday and to greet the marchers on Sunday morning as they set off for a 26.2 mile run/march through the desert . . . some marchers competing in heavy (minimum 35lb) or light pack categories.

Paw Paw with condensed milk, a sign of survival

Paw Paw was the only survivor to participate in the memorial march. 

After all had left and Ben had greeted hundreds of the marchers on their way to the starting line, we set out on the trail ourselves.  The sun was warm but the wind pelted against us.  We walked almost 9 hard miles in the desert against occasional heavy gusts of wind and through dirt roads filled with sand.  The Colonel was determined to exceed the 7 miles he walked the year before.  Ben prevailed and led our group in a walk all the way to a large relief station at almost NINE miles!  We couldn't have been prouder.

At the very end of the day (the march started at 0700), we cheered on the final group of marchers, the "wounded warriors" from Iraq or Afghanistan.  One of these was a double amputee who we marched with during part of the morning.  These amputee soldiers are so full of life and were determined to accomplish this feat as just a typical soldier.  I am ashamed to say that I was feeling the burn at 9 miles, while they went through 14 hours of blistering sun, wind, dust and the dark of nightfall to reach the finish line.  

We met so many fascinating people out there who told such colorful stories about the past.  Throughout the weekend, Paw Paw was a rock star, signing autographs and having his picture taken, getting interviewed by four different reporters.  He never complained a single moment of the trip.

At night he treated us to his "med-cine", his special recipe martinis, which "are more narrative than recipe" (a glass of gentleman Jack on the rocks).  He loves his med-cine and boy does he deserve it. 

My grandfather, my Paw Paw, spent 23 years in the army and 19 years teaching English, retiring as a distinguished professor at Clemson University.  At 90, he is as bright as ever and I only hope that I am half as alert and physically healthy as he is at that age.  

Paw Paw is my hero.  

I wanted to share this story with you to give you some insight into an era and a place that you may not hear about often or even have heard about at all.  I hope you decide to learn more about it as I am, as this is the only way we will prevent history from repeating itself. 

Our Time

If you are interested in learning more about Bataan, a couple of resources are:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bataan_Death_March

Some Survived, by Manny Lawton

Ghost Soldiers, by Hampton Sides

Ken Burns' WWII series, with a segment on Bataan

The Great Raid (2005, Directed by John Dahl. With Benjamin Bratt, James Franco, Robert Mammone)