By: Ali Elizabeth Turner
Bob Charles was seventeen when his father signed the permission slip for him to enlist in the U.S. Navy. He had older brothers who were already serving, and in that day, it was the firm resolve of Americans to do their part as members of the Greatest Generation to unashamedly make America…and the world…safe for democracy. This was even true in the days immediately following the defeat of Japan by the Allied forces.
In 1943 Bob’s ship was launched, and actually was paid for by a civilian, a woman by the name of Mrs. F.M. Leslie. It was built in Pittsburgh, and took to the waters nearly two years to the day before Japan surrendered. It was simply known as LST-42, which was the designation in general of a tank landing ship, and prior to Thanksgiving of 1945, was part of the invasion of Iwo Jima as well as other operations. LSTs were never given names, only known by their numbers, and this one served exclusively in the Pacific theatre.
Bob loves to tell stories of his time in the Navy. One of Bob’s favorite “capers” was that the skipper needed to off-load a jeep and get it to dry land, and tasked Bob with getting it there. The LSTs were only supposed to be carrying tanks or trucks, along with troops, and my guess was that the skipper used to tool around on some of the smaller islands in “his” jeep. Where he got it, no one knows today, but seeing as Okinawa was one of the larger USN ports in Japan after Hiroshima, the skipper could not risk being subjected to a surprise inspection and have “contraband” found on board. So, Bob went ashore and “traded” the jeep for six cases of beer.
However, there is one story that is now 80 years old that gets told every year in the Charles household, and it is about Thanksgiving of 1945. The LST-42 was docked at Okinawa, and Bob was down below. He received a ship’s phone call from up on the main deck that he was to report immediately topside. He had no idea why, but when he got there, he laid eyes for the first time in three years on his brother, Buddy. Buddy was stationed on dry land around 50 miles away, and had hitchhiked 50 miles to come and surprise his brother on Thanksgiving Day. I can only imagine the reunion.
During WWII, it was not at all uncommon for men to be gone from their families for two or three years, and R & R was rare. So were letters. I don’t know how Buddy found out that Bob was going to be in his “back yard,” but that was a Thanksgiving they never forgot. They spent the day together, and then Buddy had to hitchhike back the 50 miles in order to report back to duty the next day. Buddy died in his ‘50s, but it was a tradition in the Charles household to tell this tale every year at the Thanksgiving dinner table. The tradition continues to this day, but 97-year-old Bob has very few family members left to hear it. So, with joy he will tell it to any and all…the day 80 years ago when his brother surprised him and they broke bread. God bless the Charles menfolk, and Happy Thanksgiving.
By: Ali Elizabeth Turner
