There were six of us to a tent. We slept on cots that had four small poles on each corner to place mosquito netting on. It rained nearly every day and the mosquitos were pretty bad. 

On the second night we were assigned to a Dutch ship that had pulled into the harbor. This was to turn out to be the best night I was to spend on smoke pot duty. 

The Dutch had real class. We were greeted by the Captain. He was a big handsome man, and young to be a Captain. He was dressed in short, white pants and a short sleeve white shirt with gold epaulets to signify his rank. He had come to the quarterdeck to welcome us personally as we stepped off the gangway. He extended his hand and thanked us for coming out to the ship and being available to provide smoke service. I don't believe the good Captain was too concerned about any sudden air attacks. If he was, he would never have offered us the type of hospitality he did and would have made us stay in our boat during the night in order to be ready if we were attacked. 
He turned us over to one of the ship's crew who was a native of Java. He wore a wrap-around sarong and a cloth head dress.  He took us to the ship's galley where we had an unbelievable meal. Then he took LV and I to our own individual staterooms. The rooms had a single bed in them, with a night stand and reading light on the stand. On the bed was a big teri-cloth towel, wash rag, soap and a book. 
The Java crewman then took us to a room down the passageway from our staterooms  that had a choice of a shower or bath in it. I opted for the bath and lingered for at least an hour. 

When I returned to my stateroom, I picked up the book that had been left on the bed. The name of it was "Studs Lonegrin". I knew there was no possibility of my finishing a book of its volume, but I started it anyway. I got so interested in it, that I showed my appreciation to the Captain by taking it with me when I left. I felt bad about that later and was going to return it, but the Dutch ship left the next day. 

We stayed busy the next week or so. Our tent city was taking shape, and we had a fairly decent mess hall with screens and a metal roof. Our meals were mostly all traditional chow, and were served on metal trays instead of our mess kit issue that we carried with us. 

One day, while I was working in my boat that was tied to the causeway which led from Piti to 
Cabras Island, I looked up and saw an attractive, young Guamanian girl standing on the causeway next to my boat. She appeared to be about my age, and was accompanied by a younger girl, and a still younger boy. They were dressed very similar to what you would expect any young boy or girl to be attired in back home. The girls had on cotton print dresses, and the boy had on a pair of short pants. They were all barefooted. 
I sat back on the sternsheet of the boat, just aft of the wheel and said, "Hi, what are you doing 
out here?" Somehow, I didn't expect them to answer me. To my surprise, the girl replied, "Hello sailor, my name Chamorrita*, we come watch." I remembered that Guam was a protectorate of the U.S. before the war and English was taught in their schools. Her English was a little broken, but completely understandable. "My name is Bob, who are your friends?" I asked. "This is my sister and this is my brother ," she answered. She told me their names, but I do not recall what they were. "Where do you live?" I asked. She pointed up the coastal dirt road and said, "Agana". Then changing the subject, asked, "can we ride your boat?" I could see no reason they couldn't come aboard, so I said, "Sure, hop on." I stood up and gave her my hand to help her get on. She then turned and helped her little sister. The young boy jumped on the gunnel, and then climbed down into the well of the boat." 
As she got closer, I could not help from being taken by her long, jet-black hair, her simple beauty, and her smooth light brown complexion. Her skin did not have a blemish on it. She 
was very short, five feet at most. 
We sat and talked about her experiences during the Japanese occupation. She harbored no ill will toward them. She said they had never bothered her or her family. She said they lived in Agana with her parents. Her name meant Island Girl, and she had just turned 18 years of age. So, that made her a little older than me. 

While we we talked, her sister sat quietly and listened. As I recall, she never said a word the 
entire time. The young boy was politely inspecting everything he could find, but he too never 
spoke a word. I told Chamorita where I was from. She had some knowledge about the States. She knew of Texas, but not Louisiana, my home State. 
During the short time we spent on the boat, we learned a lot about each other. She had an innocence about her, and a sense of humor that was very appealing. "Bob, you can be my friend?" she said in a questioning tone. "Yes, I would like that very much Chamorrita." I thought to myself, I'll be the envy of every guy in the unit. I looked toward our tent area and could already see a few of my shipmates looking in our direction. 
Chamorrita asked if I would take them for a ride in the boat. I wanted to, but I  knew Commander Hardin would probably take a dim view of that. 
There was also our Chief bo'sun Buckelew to contend with. He was always looking for some reason to place a  seaman on mess cook duty. 
I told Chamorrita, maybe another time, but not now. She asked if I could come to Agana and visit her. I told her I would love to. She gave me directions on how to get there. As I watched them walking back toward the road to Agana, she turned and waved. I  waved back and I knew I would be going to Agana soon. 

On the 10th of August, 1944, Guam was officially secure. I do not know the casualty count of 
either side, however, when Guam was first taken by the Japanese in December 1941, it was 
defended by 700 marines. The survivors of that action were prisoners in Japan now. The 
Japanese forces numbered over 6,000 at the time, and that number had been supplemented 
by thousands more, including Japanese civilians. Most of them had been killed in the last 
month by our troops, and some had died by their own hand, as in Saipan. We were fortunate 
not to have had the air resistance on Guam as there was on Saipan, otherwise our casualties 
would be relatively higher than I'm sure they were. Our unit lost only two cox'suns. I knew 
them..... Harris and Elm. I have since forgotten their first names. 

During the last weeks of August, LCI's were dispatched to circle the island. They were manned by interpreters who announced over loudspeakers, aimed at the beach, offers of surrender to the many Japanese soldiers and civilians who had hidden out in the hills and along the shoreline. Leaflets were also dropped by a reconnaissance plane. 
There were many who came in, and there were many who chose not to believe our offer, or 
considered it dishonorable to surrender. The disbelievers chose to join their ancestors by blowing themselves up with grenades. Later, with Jacquette and Roy Larson we explored some caves up in the hills, we found Japanese soldiers who had put their rifle muzzles in their mouths, and with their big toe pulled the triggers, blowing the top of their heads off. This was a popular method of hari-kari, as was the use of grenades. 

When the LCI's returned to Apra Harbor, they would usually have a number of Japanese who 
had come down to the beaches to surrender. We would then dispatch our boats to pick them up and bring them to a marine detachment near Piti. 

The Japanese would be a sorry lot. It was no wonder after all they had been through the past 
month. They were dressed in anything they could find in the way of clothes. There were soldiers still in their soiled uniforms. There were civilians of all ages. Mothers with babies in their arms, and old men with thin, white chin beards. It would have been easy to feel sorry for them, but no one did. It was the general feeling, fueled by our own propaganda, that they brought this whole mess on themselves when they bombed Pearl Harbor two scant years ago. 

When they got into the boat, they would all squat on their heels facing LV and me. On these 
missions we were always issued .45 caliber pistols, which we wore around our waist. If there 
was a mix of soldiers with the civilians, we would usually pick up a marine to go with us as a 
precaution. You never knew whether one of them might change their mind and attempt to have you join his ancestors with him. 

Ferrying the prisoners back to the shore was a fairly routine operation. I can only remember two minor incidents while performing this task. We had been sent to a boat dock across Apra Harbor to pick up a load of Japanese civilians. 
When we arrived, we were greeted by an Army Captain. He was the first army man I had seen on the island. He was the interpreter in charge of this group of Japanese. 
LV was standing on the dock, holding the bowline of the boat and I was standing on the dock, holding the stern line. The interpreter had the prisoners line up in a row before boarding and was addressing them in Japanese. 
There was an old man standing next to me, and for some reason, on an impulse, I reached over and took his glasses off. We were always on the lookout for souvenirs. That is the only explanation I can give for doing that to the poor old man, other than my being so young and not knowing better. He immediately started jabbering something in Japanese. The army officer came over to where we were standing. The old man was jumping up and down and pointing to my shirt pocket where I had put his glasses. the Captain acted pissed at me, and stated his astonishment that I would even think to do something like that. He told me to give the old man his glasses back to him. I did and the old guy bowed to me several times, and got back in line. 

The other occasion was when we went out to an LCI and picked up only one Japanese soldier. He was a Captain. 
On our way back to Piti, he rode standing up, facing me. He kept a very stoic expression on his face, with a hint of arrogance. A marine with a carbine rifle came out of a tent at the foot of the dock when we arrived at the detachment. He instructed the Captain to get out. When the arrogant prisoner took his time getting out onto the dock, the marine told him to hurry up. I don't know whether the Captain understood or not, but he continued to move slowly until he finally got on the dock. 
As soon as he was standing on the dock, the marine poked him in his arrogant rear end with the end of his carbine, and bounced him up and down off the dock all the way back to the tent. LV and I looked at each other and laughed. 

There were times when we were able to get away and do our own thing. On one occasion, 
Jacquette, Larson and I were exploring the hills. We discovered several caves that had been 
occupied by the Japanese, which was only natural since the Japanese had dug all of them. 
It was not difficult to find the caves. They were honeycombed throughout the entire landscape. We found a lot of souvenirs, in addition to the remains of some Japanese soldiers. Some had been burned by flame throwers and were almost unrecognizable as once having been human beings. 
We were able to collect a number of souvenirs in these caves. 
I had a Japanese rifle, a shaving kit, uniform insignia and a bayonet. My prize possessions were a ceremonial flag and a samurai sword. I found the flag in the top of a helmet in one of the caves. It was a Japanese flag with the Red sun in its middle. It differed from their familiar flag, in that it did not have the rays of the sun printed on the background. Instead there were written, in Japanese, 
the prayers and good wishes for a safe return by the soldier's family and friends. A popular place the soldiers carried these flags was inside the top of their helmets. The samurai sword I had found on a previous trip laying near a Japanese officer. 

On our way back to Piti, we came across a water hole on a high bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It was fairly large, clear and fairly deep in some places. We couldn't resist its invitation to jump in and we did. We swam for a while and then returned to Piti with our loot. 

On another day we went almost around the island. There was a small town, by the name of Talofofo, that we had been told had a beach with a fair size surf by some of the guys who had 
been there. We were unable to use the unit's ground transportation, so we hitch-hiked. 
When we got there we found a small bay. It was named Talofofo Bay after the town, which was 
nowhere to be seen. It had a narrow sand beach about 300 feet long, and the surf was only three or four feet high. To the right there was a Japanese freighter that was partially sunk. Only its superstructure remained above the surface. 
The surf was better than any we had seen on the island so far, but we were still disappointed that it was no bigger than it was. We had been in the water less than an hour when a marine 
reconnaissance truck stopped on the road above the beach and waved us in. When we got to 
them, they told us this area had just been placed out of bounds. There had been snipers 
reported to be in the cliffs above the bay and they had not located any of them. They told us to 
leave, and to try and not make too tempting a target of ourselves as we were leaving. 
Although the island had been secured, it did not mean the island was "secure". There were still Japanese holding out in these hills. No one knew how many. I read in the newspaper as late as 1975, that two Japanese had finally surrendered after hiding in these hills for over thirty years. 

Shortly after I had met Chamorrita, I went up to Agana to visit her. I found her place after asking directions when I got there. Agana was in ruins, or at least this part of it was. 
Her  home was nothing more than a low ceiling shack in the midst of other similar huts. It had walls made of scrap boards and a flat tin roof. 
She lived there with two younger sisters, two brothers and her parents. Chamorrita introduced me to her parents, who only nodded. 
She suggested we go down to the beach. We sat on the beach and talked of many things. She 
wanted to know what I was going to do after the war and would I consider living in Guam. I told 
her I was too young to know what I wanted to do. 
I had worked up enough courage to take her hand into mine and she responded by putting her other hand over mine and smiling. She had beautiful white teeth, and they seemed even more so, framed by her tan complexion and jet-black hair. 
We sat together on the beach. I told her of the many big cities in America. When it  came time to leave, we walked back to her home with our arms around each other's waist. 
As I was leaving, I gave her a brotherly kiss on her forehead. She smiled and said, "Come visit me again Bob." I promised I would. 

This is the end of Part II of Guam Remembered. Part I was first installed as a Feature Story on March 1, 1999. Part III, the conclusion, will appear in several weeks.