Japan surrendered to the U.S. August 14, 1945 (August 15 to those of us in the Far East at the time). Japanese forces in China surrendered September 8.
September 1, we left the Philippines for Yokohama with a load of Marine occupation forces. By then I’d been in the Navy less than 13 months. I remember a Marine telling me he’d spent more time at sea than I had.
Our ship was the USS Woodford AKA 86. The AKA was for Amphibious Cargo Assault. Why the ‘K? I don’t know. During our three months in the Far East we visited the Philippines four times, always picking up troops for delivery to Japan three times, and China once.
I was 19 when we headed through the mine-infested Yellow Sea to Taku at the mouth of the Hwang Ho river in China. The muddy Hwang Ho. When our mine spotters saw a floating mine our gunners would shoot at it.
On this trip, we had the 32nd C.B.’s and their equipment. Their destination was Tientsin. We had to anchor a couple miles from shore because the
Gulf of Pohai was so shallow. Smaller boats got us to the city. The dates were November 4-17, 1945.
At the time Tientsin was an ‘international? city, inhabited to some extent by people deported from their own country or by those who had rejected their country. I remember going into the ‘Brooklyn Cafe? for a hamburger. The owner looked like I thought Brooklyners would look, quasi mobster.
Nine countries owned tracts of land in Tientsin at that time. They have since given the land to China. The city of nearly 3 million is 85 miles southeast of Peking, the capitol city of seven million. President Nixon went there in 1972.
Tientsin became a center of trade when the emperors refused to allow foreign businessmen to live in Peking. They settled in Tientsin, helped it grow into an important center of foreign trade and did business with Peking.
I recall Tientsin having good streets and modern facilities — at least the hotel did where we stayed while there on an overnight pass.
I also recall trying to live up to the American sailor reputation . . . we raced rickshaws, tipped too much (according to the Marines), drank Russian brandy and bartered for cameras. The war was over and we were finally allowed to take pictures. We also shopped for bright satin robes with large dragons spitting flames.
There were a great many people who spoke ‘American.? Getting directions was easy.
And I remember it being a friendly place. In particular, people spoke to us on the streets, waved and nodded as we sailors ‘did? the town.
But, what I remember most about China were the poor. There were numerous boats floating on the river, in which people lived. Sampans, junks and barges were often home to many Chinese.
We victorious, boisterous, callous, prosperous and unthinking American sailors treated the river people like, well, I am not proud to say, river people. We’d take a bite of an apple and toss the core into the muddy water.
These Chinese had very long poles with small nets they’d use to scoop up our rejects. It was great sport for we 19-year-olds.
Another picture that stays in my mind is that of a man standing behind an uncovered garbage truck as it backed toward the river and dumped its load. The man would stand still and sort edibles or whatever as the garbage flowed around him.
The most touching memory, even for we youths, happened as we started away from the dock. A small boat pulled along side. A woman held up her child and said, ‘Two dolla, Peeze!?