cmyr
09-06-2007, 05:51 PM
Horrific memories
The 'reward' for Max Dana's valiant stand on Wake Island was three and one half hellish years as a prisoner of the Japanese.
By CURT SYNNESS, Special to the IR
Wednesday, 24 May 2000
He witnessed sights that were so horrific and survived ordeals that were so horrendous, it took him over 50-years before he could even talk about it. Now 80, Max Dana, ex-POW and Marine, has finally written his World War II memoirs.
Max was 19 years old in January 1940 when he enlisted in the U.S. Marines in his hometown of Ogden, Utah. After completing boot camp, he remained in San Diego for one year, stationed with the First Defense Battalion. They deployed to Pearl Harbor initially, and then went on to Wake Island in November 1941.
Surprise attack
On the morning of Dec. 7, Dana learned of the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, but what he and his comrades didn’t know was that there were numerous Japanese ships and planes heading for Wake Island at the same time. The Americans had no radar, and around noon, the first wave of 27 enemy bombers sneaked in under heavy clouds.
"They came in so low," Max writes, "that we could see the expressions on their faces."
As they dropped their bombs, the enemy planes simultaneously strafed the island with machine gun fire. That first attack lasted only 10 minutes, but seven of 12 Yankee fighters were wiped out, and two others severely damaged. The Americans sustained 34 casualties; plus their radio station, the machine shop and most of their gasoline reserves were destroyed.
Wake Island consists of three islands in the shape of a horseshoe. The largest is Wake in the center, with Wilkes and Peale islands on both sides.
PFC Dana was manning a 50-caliber machine-gun in a 4-foot deep-nest on Wilkes with two other Marines during the battle. Half of the planes swung around and made another pass over the main island. Shortly afterwards, another wave of bombers hit the area.
16 day-barrage
For the next 16 days, the bombers would attack almost daily, flying high, out of reach of the Marine’s 3-inch anti-aircraft guns. Wilkes Island, only 1/8 mile wide and 1 mile long, could be covered by 28 bombers (usually three waves) in one pass.
"Everyone crouched under the best cover we could find in terror, and did a little praying," Dana writes in his memoirs. "When they released their bombs it looked like they were letting down a Jacob’s Ladder. They were 100 pound bombs, and you could hear them march up the island as they exploded. Talk about a hair-raising experience!"
Miraculously, Dana’s machine-gun nest was never hit. The closest call was when a nearby warehouse containing 2,200 cases of dynamite took a direct hit. He said the concussion was so terrific "it felt like your skin raised an inch from your entire body."
Another close call was when his own Marines mistook him for an enemy survivor coming up from the beach — until he took his helmet off, displaying a shock of red hair.
Shells from cruisers
Some days the enemy’s heavy cruisers would shell the islands from a distance.
"The shells whistling over your head was more terrorizing than the bombing," writes Dana. "You didn’t know when or where they’d hit, but as long as you could hear them, you knew you were alive."
On the third day, the enemy mounted a full-force assault. Before dawn, Dana was one of the first to sight the invasion with his night binoculars. As the troop ships steamed in for a landing, the leathernecks waited until they were within 4,500 feet, and then opened fire with their meager artillery.
Dana witnessed a destroyer take a direct hit. "It broke in half, the bow raised straight up in the air like a monument and then sank."
A humiliating defeat
With only 375 Marines (plus the help of some civilians), six 5-inchers; nine 3-inchers; and four fighter planes the Americans ferociously turned back the enemy. Nine ships were sunk, and 5,350 Japanese killed. Unbelievably, only four GI’s lost their lives.
The Commander of the Imperial Navy later called it their most humiliating defeat ever. But the tiny force couldn’t hold out forever. Just before daybreak on Dec. 23, a flotilla of 63 warships (and an aircraft carrier) surrounded the islands and attacked.
There were 60 Marines on Wilkes Island, and Dana remembers that two enemy landing boats — about 160 soldiers — hit their beach that morning. He could hear "voices in a strange language shouting commands." His nest was closest to the beach, and the Marines opened fire first with a machine-gun and three rifles.
"Each sweep of the machine-gun would mow down everything in its way," Dana writes. "It was our only salvation, but after a long burst it would get hot and seize up. The bolt had to be removed, freed up with oil, and replaced, hopefully in time to ward off another attack."
With bullets whizzing by their ears and hand grenades exploding nearby, the two rifleman held off any bayonet-ers.
"When the captain got wounded and couldn’t man the machine-gun, I took over and got in on the fun," recalls Max. "It was a do-or-die situation."
The firefight lasted until about 11 a.m., when the jarheads finally prevailed over their attackers. There were only three survivors from the landing party.
Taken captive
What Max and his comrades didn’t know, but found out when they trekked over to the main island to lend support, was that the Americans there had already surrendered. They reluctantly dropped their weapons, and it was the start of PFC Max Dana’s three and one half years of living hell.
Stripped to the waist — their hands tied behind their backs with wire — the Marines were led past the battle carnage to the airport ruins (any unusual movement was rewarded with a rifle butt or a saber to the side of the head) and lined up against a bank in front of a row of Imperial machine-gunners.
One guard smirked, "You have one hour to live!" But shortly afterwards, a high-ranking official showed up and ordered the prisoners spared. They were to be used for propaganda purposes back in Japan.
The first two days of captivity they were allowed no food, and very little water. On Jan. 12, 1942, they were roughly forced aboard the prisoner escort ship Nita Maru.
Death and torture
After porting in Yokohama, five prisoners — including Dana’s bunkmate — were taken up to the main deck and beheaded in a "show of strength and superiority over America."
The ship then sailed to Shanghai, China. They then hiked the 12-miles to the prison camp at Woosung.
Their punishment was brutal, and the torture horrific. Solitary confinement or being forced to stand at attention overnight (or longer) until they dropped was handed out for the slightest infractions.
Max writes in his memoirs of receiving numerous beatings. "Once I strayed a little out of bounds, and a guard pounded on me like a punching bag while I stood at attention. When his knuckles got tired, another guard took over. But he used his rifle butt against my head, so it didn’t take long to drop me."
When they wanted information, the enemy soldiers tortured the men by twisting their thumbs, or forcing water down their mouths with a tube until they passed out. They were always hungry, always thirsty and always cold at night.
Dana’s parents back in Utah did not find out that he was alive and imprisoned until May 14, 1942.
Sabotage, of sorts
After one year, the POWs were moved to Kiawong, a camp closer to Shanghai. It was here that Dana, while assigned the duty of spray painting Japanese war machinery, managed a little sabotage.
"My contribution to the mighty Japanese Imperial Army was a healthy potty call in the gas tank of each vehicle after we painted it up pretty."
But the major project the prisoners had the two years there, was building what the men called "Fuji" — a 40-foot high mountain, 150-yards long. Max says that hauling all the dirt by hand was back-breaking work.
On to Japan
In May 1945, the Japanese decided to haul all the POWs to Japan. Germany had surrendered, and they figured they could use them as hostages. They were transported in boxcars, 25 men per each 8- by 10-foot compartment. To say the conditions were atrocious would be an understatement. The trip took two months, with a month stopover in Fengtai.
After traveling through Manchuria and Korea, they were crammed onto a ferry (so overloaded the guys thought sure they would’ve sunk in rough seas) at Fuson, and sailed to Japan. Changing trains in Tokyo, the Americans had to march the full length of the depot. They were "stoned, kicked, poked with sticks, and spit on" by citizens the entire distance.
The guys arrived in the northernmost island of Hokaido on July 27. They were forced to work in the coal mines for 10 12-hour days in a row, before taking a day off.
"The food and conditions were at the worst," wrote Dana.
The 'reward' for Max Dana's valiant stand on Wake Island was three and one half hellish years as a prisoner of the Japanese.
By CURT SYNNESS, Special to the IR
Wednesday, 24 May 2000
He witnessed sights that were so horrific and survived ordeals that were so horrendous, it took him over 50-years before he could even talk about it. Now 80, Max Dana, ex-POW and Marine, has finally written his World War II memoirs.
Max was 19 years old in January 1940 when he enlisted in the U.S. Marines in his hometown of Ogden, Utah. After completing boot camp, he remained in San Diego for one year, stationed with the First Defense Battalion. They deployed to Pearl Harbor initially, and then went on to Wake Island in November 1941.
Surprise attack
On the morning of Dec. 7, Dana learned of the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, but what he and his comrades didn’t know was that there were numerous Japanese ships and planes heading for Wake Island at the same time. The Americans had no radar, and around noon, the first wave of 27 enemy bombers sneaked in under heavy clouds.
"They came in so low," Max writes, "that we could see the expressions on their faces."
As they dropped their bombs, the enemy planes simultaneously strafed the island with machine gun fire. That first attack lasted only 10 minutes, but seven of 12 Yankee fighters were wiped out, and two others severely damaged. The Americans sustained 34 casualties; plus their radio station, the machine shop and most of their gasoline reserves were destroyed.
Wake Island consists of three islands in the shape of a horseshoe. The largest is Wake in the center, with Wilkes and Peale islands on both sides.
PFC Dana was manning a 50-caliber machine-gun in a 4-foot deep-nest on Wilkes with two other Marines during the battle. Half of the planes swung around and made another pass over the main island. Shortly afterwards, another wave of bombers hit the area.
16 day-barrage
For the next 16 days, the bombers would attack almost daily, flying high, out of reach of the Marine’s 3-inch anti-aircraft guns. Wilkes Island, only 1/8 mile wide and 1 mile long, could be covered by 28 bombers (usually three waves) in one pass.
"Everyone crouched under the best cover we could find in terror, and did a little praying," Dana writes in his memoirs. "When they released their bombs it looked like they were letting down a Jacob’s Ladder. They were 100 pound bombs, and you could hear them march up the island as they exploded. Talk about a hair-raising experience!"
Miraculously, Dana’s machine-gun nest was never hit. The closest call was when a nearby warehouse containing 2,200 cases of dynamite took a direct hit. He said the concussion was so terrific "it felt like your skin raised an inch from your entire body."
Another close call was when his own Marines mistook him for an enemy survivor coming up from the beach — until he took his helmet off, displaying a shock of red hair.
Shells from cruisers
Some days the enemy’s heavy cruisers would shell the islands from a distance.
"The shells whistling over your head was more terrorizing than the bombing," writes Dana. "You didn’t know when or where they’d hit, but as long as you could hear them, you knew you were alive."
On the third day, the enemy mounted a full-force assault. Before dawn, Dana was one of the first to sight the invasion with his night binoculars. As the troop ships steamed in for a landing, the leathernecks waited until they were within 4,500 feet, and then opened fire with their meager artillery.
Dana witnessed a destroyer take a direct hit. "It broke in half, the bow raised straight up in the air like a monument and then sank."
A humiliating defeat
With only 375 Marines (plus the help of some civilians), six 5-inchers; nine 3-inchers; and four fighter planes the Americans ferociously turned back the enemy. Nine ships were sunk, and 5,350 Japanese killed. Unbelievably, only four GI’s lost their lives.
The Commander of the Imperial Navy later called it their most humiliating defeat ever. But the tiny force couldn’t hold out forever. Just before daybreak on Dec. 23, a flotilla of 63 warships (and an aircraft carrier) surrounded the islands and attacked.
There were 60 Marines on Wilkes Island, and Dana remembers that two enemy landing boats — about 160 soldiers — hit their beach that morning. He could hear "voices in a strange language shouting commands." His nest was closest to the beach, and the Marines opened fire first with a machine-gun and three rifles.
"Each sweep of the machine-gun would mow down everything in its way," Dana writes. "It was our only salvation, but after a long burst it would get hot and seize up. The bolt had to be removed, freed up with oil, and replaced, hopefully in time to ward off another attack."
With bullets whizzing by their ears and hand grenades exploding nearby, the two rifleman held off any bayonet-ers.
"When the captain got wounded and couldn’t man the machine-gun, I took over and got in on the fun," recalls Max. "It was a do-or-die situation."
The firefight lasted until about 11 a.m., when the jarheads finally prevailed over their attackers. There were only three survivors from the landing party.
Taken captive
What Max and his comrades didn’t know, but found out when they trekked over to the main island to lend support, was that the Americans there had already surrendered. They reluctantly dropped their weapons, and it was the start of PFC Max Dana’s three and one half years of living hell.
Stripped to the waist — their hands tied behind their backs with wire — the Marines were led past the battle carnage to the airport ruins (any unusual movement was rewarded with a rifle butt or a saber to the side of the head) and lined up against a bank in front of a row of Imperial machine-gunners.
One guard smirked, "You have one hour to live!" But shortly afterwards, a high-ranking official showed up and ordered the prisoners spared. They were to be used for propaganda purposes back in Japan.
The first two days of captivity they were allowed no food, and very little water. On Jan. 12, 1942, they were roughly forced aboard the prisoner escort ship Nita Maru.
Death and torture
After porting in Yokohama, five prisoners — including Dana’s bunkmate — were taken up to the main deck and beheaded in a "show of strength and superiority over America."
The ship then sailed to Shanghai, China. They then hiked the 12-miles to the prison camp at Woosung.
Their punishment was brutal, and the torture horrific. Solitary confinement or being forced to stand at attention overnight (or longer) until they dropped was handed out for the slightest infractions.
Max writes in his memoirs of receiving numerous beatings. "Once I strayed a little out of bounds, and a guard pounded on me like a punching bag while I stood at attention. When his knuckles got tired, another guard took over. But he used his rifle butt against my head, so it didn’t take long to drop me."
When they wanted information, the enemy soldiers tortured the men by twisting their thumbs, or forcing water down their mouths with a tube until they passed out. They were always hungry, always thirsty and always cold at night.
Dana’s parents back in Utah did not find out that he was alive and imprisoned until May 14, 1942.
Sabotage, of sorts
After one year, the POWs were moved to Kiawong, a camp closer to Shanghai. It was here that Dana, while assigned the duty of spray painting Japanese war machinery, managed a little sabotage.
"My contribution to the mighty Japanese Imperial Army was a healthy potty call in the gas tank of each vehicle after we painted it up pretty."
But the major project the prisoners had the two years there, was building what the men called "Fuji" — a 40-foot high mountain, 150-yards long. Max says that hauling all the dirt by hand was back-breaking work.
On to Japan
In May 1945, the Japanese decided to haul all the POWs to Japan. Germany had surrendered, and they figured they could use them as hostages. They were transported in boxcars, 25 men per each 8- by 10-foot compartment. To say the conditions were atrocious would be an understatement. The trip took two months, with a month stopover in Fengtai.
After traveling through Manchuria and Korea, they were crammed onto a ferry (so overloaded the guys thought sure they would’ve sunk in rough seas) at Fuson, and sailed to Japan. Changing trains in Tokyo, the Americans had to march the full length of the depot. They were "stoned, kicked, poked with sticks, and spit on" by citizens the entire distance.
The guys arrived in the northernmost island of Hokaido on July 27. They were forced to work in the coal mines for 10 12-hour days in a row, before taking a day off.
"The food and conditions were at the worst," wrote Dana.