Ensign Robert Wakefield stood on the deck of the steel-gray aircraft carrier Richmond, his feet braced against the rolling motion caused by high seas. The carrier rammed into a particularly big wave; Robert was dashed from head to toe with salty spray. He knew he should probably take cover if he didn’t want to get soaked to the skin, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the awesome sight of Admiral William Halsey’s South Pacific Command task forces in full steam out of their base at Brisbane, Australia. In every direction, the ocean was dark with massive ships: carriers, cruisers, destroyers, minesweepers, transports. What an incredible display of power, Robert thought proudly.
Basic training at boot camp had been grueling. In October, he had received his instructions: He was being assigned to the Richmond, which was being sent to join the Sixth Army of the United States, the spearhead of General Douglas Mac-Arthur’s strategic offensive to recapture the Solomon Islands and the Philippines from the Japanese. Robert was assigned to the communications division. He wiped the water from his watch. It was 0900 hours, time to report to his superior officer at the communications center.
Five other new recruits were already assembled, standing at attention in a room papered with charts and crowded with telegraph machines, radios typewriters, desks, and file cabinets. Robert gave Captain Danforth a crisp salute. Danforth nodded.
“You know the situation,” the captain began without further delay. “The Japanese had the upper hand in the islands since December of forty-one, when they bombed Pearl Harbor, but we regained the initiative with the Battle of the Coral Sea, Midway, and Guadal canal.”
Danforth stepped over to a large wall chart of the Pacific. Using a pointer, he indicated two sets of push pins, one red and one blue. “We’re now about to initiate a two-pronged offensive against the Japanese.” He tapped the blue pins. “Admiral Nimitz’s Pacific Fleet will push west across the central Pacific. Meanwhile, we”—he pointed to the red pins—“will move up the coast of New Guinea, eventually pushing the Japanese all the way back to the Philippines. I won’t pretend it’s going to be a picnic, men,” Danforth went on. “Fighting in the islands is very different from the land battles in Europe. But we will advance. We will triumph.”
The new recruits cheered.
“Gentlemen, you’ve arrived just in time to see some action,” Danforth concluded. “I hope you’re ready for it!”
“It’s not all good news, is it, Ensign?”
Robert, seated at the wireless, looked up at Captain Danforth. He knew his face had blanched as he recorded the message that thirty American soldiers had just been killed in a thwarted attempt to land on a nearby Japanese-occupied island.
No, it hadn’t taken Robert long to learn that it wasn’t all good news in the communications center of the Richmond, or to learn that his assignment was by no means a restful one. Simultaneously, the communications staff had to keep in touch with every ship in Halsey’s fleet, with ground units on the newly recaptured islands, with Nimitz’s fleet in the central Pacific, and with various side operations in the region. And although Robert’s wasn’t a combat position, lives depended on his doing his job well. Misinformation, an error in the slightest detail, could lead to disaster.
“You’re picking things up fast,” Captain Danforth observed now. “So I’m going to foist another duty on you.”
“I’m glad to help in any way, sir,” Robert said.
“There’s a group of female prisoners of war on Mindanao Island. You know Mindanao?”
“It’s a large island in the southern Philippines, a key island, sir.”
“Right. They’re army nurses and nurses’ aides captured when the Japanese took the island. When the fleet reaches the Philippines, we’ll take the first possible opportunity to capture the garrison holding them and liberate the prisoners.”
“Where do I come in?” asked Robert.
“We have a POW contact who transmits signals to us from an illegal radio,” Danforth explained. “She keeps us informed about conditions on Mindanao and the state of Japanese preparedness.”
Robert was impressed. “Wow, she’s taking an incredible risk.”
Danforth nodded. “If her captors find out what she’s up to, she’ll be shot,” he said bluntly. “This is the frequency she transmits on.” Danforth jotted some figures on Robert’s notepad. “I’ve been taking her signals personally, but from now on you will do it. Her code name is Pacific Star. We hear from her once a week, usually in the morning.”
“I’ll be ready for her,” Robert affirmed.
Captain Danforth strode off to check up on the rest of his team. Robert sank back in his chair. As he enjoyed a rare moment of quiet, he found himself thinking about Pacific Star, wondering what such a brave woman must be like, and looking forward to her next communication.
Another steamy morning dawned on the island of Mindanao. Eighteen-year-old Hannah Weiss and her four fellow prisoners paced the small dirt courtyard of the cement military complex, built for use by American troops but currently in the control of the Japanese.
The orange sun topped the roof and blazed down on them. “I’ve stopped keeping track of the number of days that have passed since we were captured,” Joan Madden said with a sigh.
Hannah hooked her arm through that of her friend. “I know how many days it’s been.” Her deep green eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Do you really want me to tell you?”
Joan laughed. “Not really!”
“A year and a half.” Pretty Debbie Houghton shook her blonde curls. “I can’t believe I’m spending the prime of my life in a prison camp.”
“That’s what you get for joining the Army in order to meet men,” Pam Baird teased.
“I did not join the Army to meet men!” Debbie protested. “At least that wasn’t the only reason.”
Hannah laughed along with the others. They had to laugh and joke about their situation; it was the only way they could bear it.
“You all should be in a more cheerful mood,” remarked Nettie MacAllister. “It’s washday, remember?”
“Nettie’s right,” said Hannah. “We do get out of this place once a week. It could be a lot worse.”
The others nodded. Their living conditions were really quite fair, considering the fact that the Japanese considered them an evil enemy. They were fed twice a day and the rations were generous; they had the run of a sleeping cell, a bathroom, and the outdoor courtyard; once a week they were escorted by a guard to a neighboring building where they washed their clothes, then hung them on lines to dry. While they were drying, the women were allowed to stroll under the palm trees or swim in a nearby stream.
The brief spell of relative liberty was only one reason Hannah looked forward to washday. The other reason was that on washday, she sent her weekly status report to the aircraft carrier Richmond. Those moments of contact with the outside world helped keep her hope alive that someday she and the others would be rescued.
By ten A.M., the five were ready and waiting impatiently for their washday escort. Hannah’s slim figure was wrapped in a belted robe, and her long, wavy auburn hair was tied back with a piece of string. Like the other POWs, she carried a bundle of sheets, towels, uniforms, and undergarments to be laundered. Finally, the girls heard the heavy door of their cell being unbolted from the outside. A Japanese soldier gestured to them with his rifle. Hannah had picked up enough Japanese during the past year and a half to understand the words he spoke to them. “Come, and don’t be slow.”
It was certainly funny, Hannah reflected as she and the others stood over the large sinks working the soapsuds into the laundry with their hands and chattering almost gaily. To think that something as tedious as doing wash could under certain circumstances become a pleasure! When she was growing up in southern California, she’d been an expert at palming household chores off on her older brother, Sam. Now, doing laundry was the high point of the week. If only it were possible to ignore the presence of the hawk-eyed armed guard...
When they finished rinsing out their things, the soldier marched them back outside. Soon the clotheslines were draped with dripping garments. As she hung her last towel Hannah caught Debbie’s eye. Debbie wrinkled her nose, but she nodded. It was her turn to distract the guard while Hannah sneaked off to make her radio transmission.
Hannah, Joan, Nettie, and Pam waded into the narrow stream. On the other side, near a stand of tall reeds, was a large rock where they liked to sit and sunbathe. Debbie, meanwhile, hung back. “The other day, I saw a water snake,” Hannah heard Debbie say in English to the guard. “Are they poisonous?”
The guard understood only a few of her words. He questioned her in Japanese. Debbie began trying to translate her remark. Soon she had tricked the unwitting soldier into giving her a Japanese vocabulary lesson.
That was Hannah’s cue. As the other three reclined on the rock, dabbling their feet in the cool water, Hannah strolled along the bank, pretending to examine the exotic tropical plants that grew there. Stepping behind the reeds, she ducked down. She lifted a flat rock, then clawed at the damp earth. Underneath the rock a radio wrapped in plastic was buried.
Quickly, she unwrapped the radio and raised the antenna. Adjusting the frequency, she held it to her mouth and spoke softly. “Ironman, come in.”
There was some crackling static. “Pacific Star?” an unfamiliar male voice said over the radio.
For a split second, Hannah almost shut the radio down. Who was picking up her signals?
But the man hastened to reassure her. “Pacific Star, this is Sea Eagle in the communications center on the Richmond. I’m your new contact.”
Hannah breathed a sigh of relief. “You gave me a start, Sea Eagle!”
“Sorry about that.” His tone gave Hannah a distinct feeling that if she could see his face, he would be smiling. “Pacific Star, what’s the situation there? Are you all right?”
“We’re fine. You can report, though, that there seems to be some troop buildup. The soldiers are drilling a lot more than usual.” She described some of the drills in more detail.
“They think Mindanao will be the first point of attack when the American fleet reaches the Philippines, eh?” Robert speculated.
“Possibly,” Hannah said. She had nothing more to report of a military nature, so she ventured a personal question, to satisfy her curiosity. “Did you just join the crew of the Richmond?”
“Been on board three days.”
“Seen any action?”
“We shot down two Japanese planes today. It was pretty hairy,” he admitted. “I suppose you’ve seen a lot worse than that, though. How long have you been a prisoner?”
“Since May of forty-two, when the Allies surrendered the Philippines. I’d only been in the Army Nurse Corps as a nurse’s aide for a few months.” She forced a laugh. “If I’d known what was in store for me, I would have stuck with high school and the cheerleading squad.”
“You mean you were still in school when you joined up?”
“I was only sixteen,” Hannah confirmed. “I lied about my age. Now, don’t spread that around!”
“You must have felt strongly about the cause we’re fighting for.”
“I did—I do,” Hannah said fervently. “The war... it’s not a far-off and distant thing for my family. We’re Jewish, and I have cousins in Austria. We’ve received no word from them in the past couple of years and are afraid they’ve been sent to Nazi work camps.”
“That’s terrible!” Robert exclaimed.
“This whole war is terrible,” Hannah agreed. “I felt I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit by and wait for news, safe and comfortable at home while people were fighting... and dying. A lot of the boys I knew from school were enlisting, and I decided to do the same.”
At that moment, Hannah heard a low whistle—the signal from the other girls that it was time to hide the radio and reappear before the guard became suspicious. “I have to go,” she said quickly. “I’ll talk to you next week. Over and out.”
Robert signed off. Hannah reburied the radio, sweeping bits of grass around the rock so her tampering would not be visible. Then she grabbed a handful of bright wildflowers and walked back to the stream.
