New light on an old war

Sixty years ago, my father was somewhere in the South Pacific, recovering from the mortar shell and hand grenade wounds he received a few days after being part of the seventh wave of troops invading the island of Okinawa.

As the operator of a .30 cal., water cooled machine gun, he was a high priority target for the Japanese soldiers defending the island.

Dad still won't confess to any bitterness or hatred toward the people who tried to kill him. Instead, he's more likely to express disgust with the politicians of either side who sent their young men to kill each other.

I grew up looking at the Japanese rifle (still in the original cosmoline preservative) he "liberated" from a warehouse in Korea, at the Imperial Japanese money that didn't make it to the intended troops on Okinawa; to the small ceremonial sword that belonged to the soldier who didn't come home from the front.

Growing up absorbing World War II stories, I thought I had a grasp on the basic facts of the conflict, but now I'm not so sure.

In North Platte for the Memorial Days holiday, I picked up a paperback copy of "Flyboys," a two-year old best seller I had seen referenced in a recent PBS television program.

I'm a sucker for anything air-related, such as the 1965-vintage UPI book about the Gemini program and another flying-tales story I picked up at garage sales this weekend, or the gun-camera film can I found a few weeks ago.

But airplanes are only an aspect of "Flyboys," rather than the centerpiece.

Instead, for me, the book shed a lot of new light on the background and attitudes that led to the Second World War.

First, I was shocked at the way the military came to control pre-war Japan, and the brutality imposed on its own soldiers, let alone the soldiers and civilians of other countries.

Yes, I had heard of the brutality of the Bataan Death March and other atrocities, but not the details or motives behind them.

Wounded Japanese were expected to kill themselves rather than become a burden to the rest of the soldiers, and soldiers of the Rising Sun were puzzled and disgusted by enemies who allowed themselves to be captured instead of doing the same.

Soldiers were desensitized to killing by decapitating Chinese civilians, learning to view enemies as less than human.

The author, James Bradley, doesn't let the West off the hook, however, pointing out British, Dutch, French and American imperialism in Asia, and Japan's puzzlement over objections to the establishment of its own empire.

Americans weren't above viewing others as less than human, Bradley said, using for examples the Sand Creek Indian massacre of women, old men and children, as well as atrocities against Mexicans or Filipinos.

Americans all regard Jimmy Doolittle and his raiders as heroes, after they flew land-based bombers from aircraft carriers to attack Tokyo early in the war.

How many of us, before reading Bradley's book, realized that about a quarter of a million Chinese were slaughtered in retaliation for helping some of the Americans escape?

"Flyboys" refers to former President George Bush, and eight other aviators, who didn't survive being shot down at a key Japanese-held island.

The book was written only after their stories were declassified a few years ago, and has new relevance in light of today's conflicts.

It you grew up on World War II stories like I did, "Flyboys" may be a real eye-opener.