Suddenly, in the last week of March, we found out what we had been doing. The 182^nd and 132^nd regiments were relieved at the front and arrived at Tacloban to join us in a trip to the southern islands: Cebu (SEB-OO') and Bohol (BOW'-HOLE).

On March 25, 1945 we boarded a LST (Landing Ship Tank). All our personal supplies had been stuffed into individual barracks bags which, with a blanket roll, were carried over our shoulder. The troop area on ship was a very large, cavernous room that, for some reason, reminded me of a ballroom. The floor was the steel deck. We spread our blanket for a bed. There was a large metal pulley suspended from the ceiling of the room and as this swung with the roll of the ship it banged against the steel wall and made an ungodly loud noise. With only a double thickness of blanket for a mattress and the constant clang of metal on metal, my last thought was: "No sleep tonite." Next thing I know someone was telling me (and all of us) to "wake up, Cebu's in sight and the action's ready to begin."

We all ran up to the deck. We were about a quarter mile off shore and all around us assorted landing craft, mine sweepers and destroyers were slowly circling. Of a sudden a destroyer (and I swore it must have been at least a heavy cruiser) cut in front of us and sent a salvo of shells shoreward. They were joined by the other destroyers and the bombardment continued for quite some time.

At one point someone yelled that a torpedo was coming in on the starboard side. To a man (including me) everyone ran to the starboard rail to see the torpedo. It passed in front of us, a good ship-length off. Two midget submarines had been sighted while the landings were being made and a shore platform that could possibly have launched the torpedo was found.

The shoreline was completely obliterated by smoke and dust from the explosions. The destroyers turned away from their firing positions and a large number of LCI (Landing Craft, Infantry) ran parallel to the shore discharging a constant barrage of rockets.

Meanwhile there were flights of medium bombers over the island dropping parabombs. There were flying low and close enough that I could recognize the Cross of Lorraine insignia on the tail. My brother's (Dick) outfit. I found out later that he had been there.

I must digress for a moment but you will see that this is in chronological order: The army had a rule against pets but the rule was ignored. On New Caledonia someone had a pet goose that beat the daylights out of someone's pet shepherd dog. Someone else had a pet rooster and hen. The rule was once enforced when one of the boys brought home, at 2 A.M., a pig tethered to a length of rope. "But he followed me home!" Finally, one of the men bought a pet monkey in Tacloban. The animal made the trip with us. The fellow was sure that cigarettes would be hard to come by on Cebu, so he bought five extra cartons and stored them in his duffle bag. During the bombardment he ran out of cigarettes and went down into the hold to replenish his supply.

He came back on deck swearing a blue streak and dragging the monkey on a leash. We walked over to the ship's rail and threw the monkey overboard. The animal was a good swimmer and probably was the first to make the beachhead. The monkey had opened the duffle bag, opened the five cartons, opened the ten packs in each carton for a total of fifty and opened, split apart and scattered each of the thousand cigarettes.

Soon after the incident we were ordered to get our gear together and assemble on the deck. The landing craft moved into position to form a single file with the LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) in the front and our LST (Landing Ship Tank) near the rear. We approached the shore and the landing ramp was dropped with a louder than expected noise. We had hit a land mine with only minor damage done to the craft and one minor casualty. One of the ordnance men got a piece of shrapnel in his buttock, for which he received the Purple Heart medal.

We waded a short distance in to dry land and marched to a palm grove, designated as the Ordnance area. Mine fields had been cleared before we landed. Our area was dry, shaded by palm trees and had a farm pump. The water had been tested and was drinkable. Best of all, the well was covered with a wooden platform, dry but just a bit wobbly.

The well had been in use for about an hour and many canteens were filled before one of our officers suggested that the platform be made steady. When the platform was removed they found a 100 pound aerial bomb set on end with the platform resting just above the detonating pin. Our bomb disposal lieutenant was called. He unscrewed the firing mechanism and had the bomb pulled out. He explained that when the Japanese set the booby trap they had pushed the platform against the firing pin and bent it so it would not depress and set off the bomb.

The bomb disposal officer hadn't left when someone pointed to one of the palm trees and noticed a "neat little parachute." The officer cleared the area and told us we had a parafrag bomb swinging in the breeze above us.

The parafrag (daisy cutter) was a small bomb, attached to a parachute. Around the outside of the bomb was wound a one inch thick iron spring under tension. The spring was serrated at one-inch intervals. It had a very sensitive fuse that would explode the bomb (they said) if it touched a tree leaf. On detonation the one-inch cubes of spring were thrown in all directions and could clear a field of vegetation within a fifty foot radius circle. This device had been dropped, with hundreds of others, by the Cross of Lorraine group. It had someway failed to touch a thing on its descent before a palm tree limb snagged it.

The bomb disposal group came in. One of them dipped into a can and pulled out a handful of putty-like stuff. He rolled it between his hands until it looked like a piece of one-inch rope. It was positioned around the tree, two wires were inserted and everyone was told to take cover. There were two rapid, loud booms, the parachute was gone and the tree was cut neatly in half.

We had landed near Talisay and the next morning we were herded into trucks to be taken to Cebu city, the capitol. On the way (and it was over a paved road) we saw some of the results of the previous day: several shell holes, a few burned-out houses and two dead Japanese, one sailor and one soldier.

We departed from the trucks at a pleasant, grass-covered field. This was to be our home. We set to work erecting our pyramidal tents (six man) at designated spots and it wasn't long before we were a thriving community, complete with Philippine camp followers - laundry girls, handy men, fruit & vegetable sellers - you name it. No ladies of the evening, though. They had to stay outside the camp area.

After we were settled in we had a mid-afternoon assembly which turned out to be an information session: We were in a relatively safe area and our shops would be in Cebu City which was secure. We should nevertheless be on the alert for enemy infiltrators or possible counterattacks. Mine disposal squads had swept the area and considered it safe but we should be suspicious of anything that could be a booby trap.

We were thus told what could be but not a word of what to look for or how these dangers could be recognized or what to do or not do if they occurred.

The next day my group was taken to Cebu City and we saw our instrument repair shop. It was a large room with windows on three sides, benches and tables in place. One of the windows near the rear wall was open, held in that position by a small knife wedged between the frame and the sill. One of the crew went over, yelled: "Look at the neat knife." And grabbed it. All I could see was booby-trap and yelled "Don’t" as he pulled the knife out. There was a loud crash as the window dropped but no explosion. Our section officer gave the group a long lecture.

The next day things were relatively quiet. Mid-morning a bulldozer started pushing dirt and knocking down brush across the street. Suddenly the dozer stopped and the operator started pushing the brush and tall weeds aside. The operator, a young CB, stuck his head in the shop door and told us we'd have to evacuate. He cleared the whole neighborhood for a block around. We went back to our bivouac area.

Next day, explanation: The dozer operator saw what could have been a hastily concealed path through the brush. He followed it to the end and found a large drum. The bomb squad came in [and] removed the drum of high explosive, fused by a very sensitive chemical fuse. A slight nudge by the bulldozer would have pretty much taken out the whole block.

Several Philippinos were given jobs in our shops: auto mechanics, gunsmiths for our small arms section and a watch repairman for our group. He was a very good worker and knew the watch repair business. We also hired a large crew of workers to keep our bivouac area clean, to take over the KP duties, to dig necessary ditches and such less technical work.

The people in the shops received three times the pay of the workers in the company area. It came as quite a surprise, then, that my watch repairman told me we wanted to leave and get a job in the company area. He wouldn't give a reason; assured me that he had been treated well, liked his job and still wanted to take the job that would pay only one-third. Finally, I learned the truth: he had friends who were working in the company area and though the pay was less, the chance to steal blankets, clothing, food, and probably much more didn't exist in the shop. He left and got his blankets, etc.

The windows in our shop gave us a panoramic view of the hills beyond the city. Every day, weather permitting, a squadron of our planes made a bombing run over the hills. The hills were honeycombed with caves, held by the Japanese. These caves were the main targets.

One day there was a report that a Japanese artillery piece, probably a 4-inch rifle, was positioned in one of the caves. It would be wheeled out, fired, and wheeled back in. Two light tanks were sent out to neutralize it. One took position and the other was backup. The first tank was parallel to the hill, directly in front of the cave, probably about 70 to 80 yards away. They fired the tank cannon at the cave, the shell went in the cave, there was a terrific explosion, the tank was lifted into the air, rolled completely over and landed about forty yards away in an upright position. None of the crew survived. Apparently their shell had hit an explosives dump in the cave, the cave acted as a big cannon and the concussive force of the blast picked up the several ton tank as though it was a toy. I was sent out two days later to salvage any of the sighting equipment. The medics had pretty well cleaned out the inside but I was glad I hadn't been in it.

There were many, many caves, either natural or man-made or enlarged. They were utilized for storage, for gun emplacements, for fortresses. The biggest use was storage - everything from uniforms, blankets, cots to arms and ammunition. As they retreated after the invasion, they took as much ordnance as possible and left the rest there. Some of the remainder was booby-trapped. Our infantry and bomb disposal groups cleaned most of that up.

Although our forces tried to keep the Philippine civilians out of the cave areas it was a hopeless task. The caves were too numerous for the available manpower, the locals knew the area too well so they could "sneak in the back door" and they had dreams of the treasures hidden there - clothing, bed clothes, etc. One family went deep into a cave and it became too dark to see what was hidden there. One of the group found a box of "candles," the father lit the "wick" and in a short time the dynamite exploded killing all but one.

Our chaplain heard that there were several crates in one cave which had a cross painted on the lid. With the possibility that it was loot from one of the cathedrals, he went to the cave with Military Police and bomb disposal personnel. They found two wooden crates about six feet long by two feet wide by two feet deep. They were filled to the top with silver pesos! They were carted out and shipped to the Bank of Manila.

Rotation of long term personnel was in effect. Names drawn out of a hat each month. Our Commanding Officer - Captain Rabin was sent back soon after we got to Cebu. Everyone regretted his going; he had been an excellent chief. One of the enlisted men that went with him went to visit him about two months after his discharge (they had both lived in Kentucky). He wrote back that his visit had sad consequences. Captain "Benny" and his fiance had been killed in a car crash two weeks after he got home. Everyone was saddened.

One day, one of our sergeants lost his Jeep. Left it unguarded for a short few minutes and it wasn't there when he got back to the parking spot. Score another for the Navy. We could have replaced it with one of our spares but the sergeant had reported the loss to the Military Police. It was, therefore, a court martial offense and the sergeant would be required to pay for it, so much per month. Our first sergeant was put on the next rotation list. The sergeant was jumped three grades and made first sergeant with the proviso that he would give up the grade when the debt was fully paid off. He lost the difference between first sergeant and buck sergeant [pay] each month so he came out even.

One day a very polite Philippine man visited our shop. When the Japs had landed, he packed all his tools and supplies in a water tight tin box (he was a jeweler - watch repairman). When it was safe, after our landing, he had dug up the box. All was in good shape except that his bottle of watch oil had broken. Could we spare a little bit - a few drops even - of watch oil until he could get more from Australia by mail? Having eleven spare bottles (enough for eleven years) I gave him two bottles. Profuse thanks and what was my name?

Two days later I went back to my tent after a shower and was met by a half dozen man delegation. What a sly dog I was! A young maiden (they all agreed she was much more shapely and better looking than the usual) had come to the area looking for "Sergeant three grade Jose' Reetz." She and her younger sister were carrying a tremendous stalk of bananas. "My father says thank you for the oil. Tell Mr. Reetz." She left the bananas - a deep green color - under my cot. One of the delegation pulled a green banana off the stalk and peeled it. We all told him they were too green to eat. He proved otherwise by downing it with a remark about "you guys are too used to grocery stores." The fruit was at the peak of perfect ripeness. Everyone in the area helped me to get rid of the fruit. And they all agreed that I missed something by not being there to accept in person from the "real doll." She never came around again.

Another day a local native came into the shop and asked if we had any broken truck springs. I couldn't understand what he wanted them for but I took him to our automotive repair section. They had a large pile of junk parts, told him to help himself. He filled a canvas bag, shook hands with and smiled at everyone, mumbling something unintelligible except for the word "Thanks!" often repeated.

About a week later he was back and presented me with a bolo knife in a hand-carved wooden case. The knife handle was topped with a carved head. The blade was one of the car springs. The chief of the automotive section was similarly rewarded. He told me several weeks later that a Colonel was in his shop, saw the knife, and offered him fifty dollars for it. No sale.

There was a big, skinny fellow with one of the artillery batteries that came in quite often and dumped a load of instruments for repair. One day he also brought in a heavy, wool blanket - Japanese Navy issue - "for the good service you've given me." With profuse thanks I told him I'd have something to take home when my name came up for rotation. He had found the blanket and many more in one of the caves and said that next time he'd bring a couple more "good ones."

Several weeks went by and he didn't show up. One day another fellow from the same outfit brought in the material for repair. I asked him when the "big skinny kid" would be coming in. A terse: "He won't be coming in." I didn't ask questions.

One night Art (head of the Artillery repair section) and I were given guard duty on a Cebu street corner. We spent the two hours talking of many things. He was a volunteer. His father had pulled strings to get him a job in Alcoa (in Cleveland). Art had just walked into the melt room when a pot of molten magnesium metal exploded and killed two men. All employees were sent home for the day. The next morning Art left home at the regular time, walked past Alcoa, straight to the Army recruiter when he gave up his strategic occupation exemption and joined the Army.

Our guard post was in the center of Cebu City, completely deserted at that time of night. Suddenly there was a muffled "pop" and Art yelled, "Hit the deck!" We were both lying flat when we heard a "swish, swish" and a thud. Whether accidental or on purpose, a rifle had been discharged some distance off. It hit the front of the building about nine or ten feet above the ground.