Elton A. Watlington entered military service in April 1945 at Fort Oglethorpe, Ga. and was then sent to Fort McPherson, Ga. in downtown Atlanta for outfitting. Assigned to basic training at Fort McClellan, Anniston, Ala., he was in the Infantry Replacement Training Corps at the same time as brother Sam in Camp Wheeler, Ga. On a weekend pass he visited Sam at his quarters at Camp Wheeler. IRTC provided a seventeen week training program at this time, and was already oriented toward the war in the Pacific. On V-E Day we had a total Fort parade; even the cooks had to march. Over twenty thousand troops passed review that day. Before our training was over the Atomic bombs had fallen on Japan and on V-J Day we likewise celebrated with a parade for the benefit of the Commanders of the Fort. (I didn't understand how these things were then, but later came to know a few military commanders too well.) We faced sun, rain, mud, guard duty, marching, rifle practice, small arms training, survival instincts, survival tactics in personal and group conflict, health care; but also the reality of being taught to kill and taught to hate the enemy. It was an intense Spring and Summer with a dramatic backdrop on a cosmic scene.
Following a home furlough I joined several thousands at Camp Funston, Kansas (Fort Riley was nearby) for new assignments, most of whom were going to the Pacific theater to replace veteran troops soon to come home. We were organized into train loads and sent across the plains and mountains to San Francisco and on to Fort Ord at Monterrey on the Pacific Ocean. From there my group was sent to a secret Port of Embarkation which was Camp Anza, near Riverside, south of Los Angeles and our Port was San Pedro. After a few trips into Los Angeles and days of waiting four thousand of us were loaded on the U.S.S. General Sherman sailing for Yokohama, Japan and the Army of Occupation there. On our arrival there we were soon put on an overnight train to join the 27th Infantry Division in Niigata Province on the Sea of Japan, across the mountains from Tokyo. The Division was still on full alert and all guards and troops had live ammunition handy. This was about November 1st, 1945 and the zone was pacified, though some search parties were still sent out regularly. Six weeks later the Old New York National Guard Division was ordered back to New York State and greenhorns like me were sent to other outfits. Fortunately for me I was sent to Tokyo to join the 7th Cavalry Regt. of the First Cavalry Division which had guard duty at the Imperial Palace and other vital areas of the Tokyo Area. I was assigned to the Headquarters Troop of the Headquarters Battalion of the Seventh Regt., Gen. George C. Custer's old unit. We were in Tokyo for Christmas, 1945. Guard duty pushed me to volunteer for orderly duty in the Officer's Mess, which soon led me to Post Exchange duty nearby. So many men were leaving for the States that lots of jobs were opening up.
I served as ``Armor Articifer''--gun polisher and repairman for a few weeks, spent some days in St. Luke's Episcopal Hospital with an eye injury, went to ``G.I. Kollege of Knowledge'' at Division Headquarters for six weeks and then was assigned to the Regimental Headquarters S-3 training desk as a clerk. At Regimental Headquarters I got acquainted with the ``Old Army,'' the regular volunteer army with a military mentality. One Lt. Colonel had been with that Regiment his whole career of twenty-nine years. I figured out that he had added a stripe (promotion) every three years as he signed on again. And they were openly offering additional stripes to any draftee who would sign on for additional time.
By December 1946 I was on the list to be discharged and sent to a Port of Embarkation Depot for Yokohama. Our ship this time was a ``Liberty Ship'' freighter adapted for provisional troop transport. We were at sea before Christmas, 1946 and it was a ``Christmas to Remember.'' We returned via the Golden Gate Bridge and our ship slowed down so that we could enter in the Bay in full daylight. Joy! We had a couple of days liberty in San Francisco from our quarters in Oakland and then were sent by troop train eastward, passing through Denver, Omaha, and on to Fort Sheridan, Illinois, on the shores of Lake Michigan for discharge. I was at home in early January and in Lambuth College by the 20th of March 1947, still making my home on the family farm.
Going into U.S. Military service in April 1945, I was prepared as an infantryman, for what was called ``Infantry Replacement Training'', meaning that we were to be sent into battlefields to ``replace'' those who were casualties of combat. I knew enough about what was going on in Europe and the Pacific Island warfare to take seriously the training in ground warfare. I learned to appreciate the eight-shot Garand M-1 Rifle which was our standard fighting equipment and was to be by our side in seventeen weeks of IRTC training at Fort McClellan, near Anniston, Alabama.
We were delighted to hear of the end of the war in Europe even though it required us to stage a massive parade in honor of the victory in Europe, V-E Day. Before the long hot summer was over the Atomic Bombs fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki and there was an end to the Pacific Conflict as well. Again we were paraded in mass--about twenty thousand happy junior soldiers in the August heat of Alabama. Our war was still not over. We had a furlough home but then were gathered at Fort Riley, Kansas, for new orders, most of us going to Japan for occupation duty. A troop train was prepared with enough food to supply our own kitchen and started west. We meandered across the west through Denver, Ogden, Reno, Sacramento, San Francisco and ended up at Fort Ord, Monterrey, California, some four days later. Our heads were ``peeled'' at the barber shop, our clothing and equipment checked carefully and some two weeks later we were on a troop ship to Yokohama, Japan.
Fourteen months later I was on the list to be ``demobilized,'' and left Tokyo for the Port of Embarkation--going Home. One of the first things I noticed there was that President Truman's order for ``integration'' of Negro soldiers was taking place. The First Cavalry Division had no Negro units, although there were Negro soldiers in Tokyo near where we were stationed.
When we were assigned to a ``Liberty Ship'' for returning stateside, we were all lined up alphabetically and marched in to take our places. No one complained; no one fussed; for we were coming home. It was only a few days before Christmas and this ship was headed in the right direction. The Liberty ships were basically cargo ships but could be adapted to carry troops by the hundreds by installing compartments attached to upright poles in the ``Cargo Holes'' of the ship. On our level there were about two hundred men sleeping in the same room, bunked together in groups of eight bunks tied to two upright poles, with about twenty-two inches between the canvas above or below you and less than that to the one to your side. These were men you had never seen before or known before. Black men, white men, educated, uneducated; enlisted soldiers for whom the war was over and we were going home. We were happy. We didn't know where we were on the Pacific Ocean, but we knew we were going home.
I remember the dice games on the floor between the bunks, and in any available space. There were a few card games also. But I had brought with me a Catholic version of the New Testament with only the Gospels and the Book of Acts in a modern translation. I found it at the Chaplain's office back in Tokyo and brought it to read on the trip. Not knowing any modern translation of the scriptures, it read like a novel to me--and it was Christmas time. We had no chaplain on that small troop ship, but some men organized a Hymn Sing and Scripture service to celebrate Christmas Eve--and then Santa Claus came for each of us. It was a Red Cross Christmas Gift Box especially planned for servicemen. Only about 4 x 6 x 4 inches in total size, there were sweets, a greeting, some toilet articles and reading material. Not much, probably worth less than one dollar, but a reminder of other gifts, and other times, and a Giver. It was so good to know that we were remembered. It was good to know that Christ was remembered. It was so good to have His word in new words to read and to share. It was a Christmas I have treasured--yet it was such a strange Christmas in a strange place among strangers. But there was a Presence there, and I knew it.