Bits like seeing Boomerang grinning under a variety of aliases, including a buxom waitress, are just golden, and seeing the hapless Mach VII get suckered into taking the heat for Boomerang is punctuated with arrows saying "Abner" and "Still Abner. The second half of this comic, meanwhile, derails the storyline almost completely - but in the best way possible. The thing about breaking the rules is that it works best when you actually know the rules, and Spencer knows exactly what he's doing.
Have to short-change your story in order to give a denouement for the rest of your cast? Eh, the Sopranos cut to black. Don't have room to talk about what happened to Beatle or Overdrive? As Spencer says, "I guess in the end, it was a bit of a mixed bag. While some of the usual caveats may apply - it's still super-late, and there's no making up for the momentum Spencer and company have lost with all these delays - and some might see this conclusion as too cheeky for its own good, I think that this conclusion really distills the charm of Superior Foes of Spider-Man.
It's funny, it's all over the place, and it's not afraid to admit its own rough edges. If only more books could be similiarly flawed. Rasputin was poisoned, beaten, stabbed, shot, and thrown in a river before he met his end. Where the premiere issue of Rasputin lured us in with his poisoned wine, Rasputin 2 pulls us right into the throes of the next phase of his murder, picking up immediately where the last issue left off.
This issue is almost entirely devoted to the past, giving a more extensive string of events than we had in Rasputin 1. Grecian structures this story beautifully, using a younger Rasputin to build pathos so that we feel something profound as we witness the final moments of his life, while Rossmo and Plascencia lend to a book that is as brilliant to behold as it is to read. Though the quick succession of events in this issue cause it to experience the same brevity that Rasputin 1 was prone to, this issue includes additional dialogue that aids in balancing out the pace.
And still, there is so much said in such few words, and what results is a story that builds powerfully before it brusquely ends, leaving us longing for the next installment. Visually breathtaking and masterfully scripted, Rasputin is already proving to be not one to miss. Continuing from last issue, we see more of a grounded Selina Kyle, dumping her skin-tight catsuit and whip for more of a sophisticated attire, but still carries her street-smart savvy. It's only the second issue in of this new beginning by Genevieve Valentine and Garry Brown, but it's also the most it's actually felt like a Catwoman book in quite some time.
True, the days of jewel heists seem to be a bit passe now, but Selina Kyle is all about showing you who is going to run this town tonight. While I've been digging this new approach, this issue here both builds and slows down the pacing at the same time. What we have here is Selina going around breaking bread and new deals with the rest of the organized crime families in Gotham.
This is the most you've seen of Gotham's seedy underworld as organized and dangerous - as it should be - in a long while. I keep thinking this almost has a vibe of Catwoman treated under the Vertigo label. It's complex without being too overbearing and complicated and doesn't insult the reader's intelligence. There's a great scene at the very end with Selina confronting the supposedly new Catwoman, even though the reveal was a bit of a non-surprise, the dialogue between the two is a sort of allegory for the new direction of the book.
It also gives Selina this moment of reflection and her evolution to where she is now and what her big game plan should be. The last issue may have had a small Batman cameo, but here it seems Selina is purely on her own. She's had a rough start since the New 52 launch, but this could be where Catwoman finally hits its stride.
Better late than never, right? While Valentine is laying out this arc, this issue feels a bit sluggish in the middle with the heavy political environment of Gotham's mob scene. I appreciate the involvement with Black Mask more, as he's really the one person from Selina's past that could work as an arch-nemesis, or at least gives a face to her troubles here. It's a slight hiccup, but with what Team Catty has laid down so far, I can't help but be on board for the rest of this. Speaking of team, Garry Brown is a noir monster here, giving Gotham tons of shadows, making it one hell of a murky city.
Now some shots have less detail than other, but that makes the page less cluttered and makes sure your eyes only go to where Brown wants them to. True, it leaves some characters without a face here and there, but it's a non-issue in the long run. If there's one character Brown was made to do though, it is Black Mask. He gives ol' Roman here a terrifying appeal and a perfect foil for Selina's grace and beauty. Colorist Lee Loughridge again gives this new look nice flatted tones that goes well with Brown's linework and shapes and elevates the scenery that much more. This really is a Selina Kyle book more than a Catwoman, but how long can they keep the two entities apart?
Someone has already taken up the mantle of the Cat, but will Selina ever don it again? Well, we know she will eventually, but it's the build up that's been presented thus far that should keep you coming back. Catwoman hasn't forgotten its roots, but isn't afraid to do some replanting so new fruits can grow along the older vines.
DC has had some shake-ups with other Bat-related books, and this might not have "bat" in the title, but it should be mentioned in the same breath as some of the best rebranding recently done. Plotting is necessarily pretty thin on the ground, with the classic Transformers not the newer movie versions losing their Allspark again. It winds up on Piggie Island, and what was once a battle between the forces of the Deceptacons and the Autobots becomes a new kind of all-out war between the deep breath Autobirds and the Deceptihogs.
Lovers of puns should be prepared to Starscream in delight, as writer John Barber hits the Optimus Prime of fowl words. It is difficult to take this book too seriously, and nor is it intended to be, but it is also hard to treat it with any great respect either. Yet most of this issue is simply an excuse for the birds and the pigs to become Transformers, and to set up the rest of the series.
Two artists share illustrative duties on this book, with Livio Ramondelli taking on the darker and more traditionally action-oriented introduction of the Transformers fighting in space. Conan recently. Prior to the s, French author Pierre Boulle was perhaps best known for his novel Bridge on the River Kwai , and its Academy Award-winning film adaptation.
The Planet of the Apes franchise dates its comic book history back to at least the film, the most notable of these being the black and white Marvel film adaptations of the s, and later Malibu in the s. Yet it is BOOM! Despite the title, the six-issue Dawn of the Planet of the Apes is in fact set prior to the film that shares its name, acting as a bridge between it and the earlier Rise of the Planet of the Apes. The actor was trying to inject tongue-in-cheek humor into his lines. At one point, Lean was so frustrated by the actor that tears started to roll down his cheeks.
I screamed, I really told him that what he was doing was destroying the director and the picture. The distinguished Japanese ac-tor, who had had a career in Hollywood, was getting old and had lost his grasp of English. Adding to the problems was the potion that Hayakawa used for his bloodshot eyes. After dinner one night, Lean and Spiegel took a stroll by the ocean. I could hear Sam gulp even with the sea in the distance. Eventually, the director guided Spiegel back to his hotel. The first attempt to blow up the bridge was a complete fiasco. It had been promoted as a huge event, and Spiegel invited local dignitaries who had helped with the production.
The prime minister of Ceylon, Solomon Bandaranaike, headed the band of invitees. Spiegel, Lean, and the explosives expert gathered in a hut where there was a panel with lights that lit up when each of the five camera operators switched on his camera to film the bridge. The train started, and, one by one, the lights went on until the last, which stayed dark. Lean had to make up his mind: allow the explosion to go off and risk the life of the cameraman or abort the operation. The train crossed the bridge, tore through the sand dragon—the pile of sand that had been put there as a precautionary measure—and went into the London bus that contained the generator.
There were stories of Spiegel gallivanting around town and having endless parties, but he was also deeply involved in the editing. What a size! A month after the film had come out, it was still playing to full houses at the Plaza Theatre in London. Somewhat outrageously, he had tried to limit mention of Columbia to the trademark at the beginning of the film.
In the end, several studio executives objected and rectified the situation. In total, their picture brought in seven Oscars, including that for best actor for Alec Guinness. There was every reason to rejoice—the sparring partners had scored—but Lean could not resist irritating Spiegel. I shouting back at him, brandishing mine. It was a ridiculous scene. During the ceremony, I had been thinking 3, things. It was a double-edged sword. The film tells the story of T.
Lawrence, the British intelligence officer and adventurer, and his extraordinary campaign in the Arabian Desert during World War I, in which he led a coalition of Arab tribes in a successful assault on the Axis-aligned Ottoman Turks. Who could sit down and really read it? Once again Columbia was backing the picture. A steady two-year campaign was engineered to educate Americans about Lawrence—a very British hero. It was her second attempt.
There was even talk that he had refused to pay for the service, though, in fact, he did pick up the bill. To find his Lawrence, Lean needed to see several films each day. The actor signed a five-picture deal with Horizon and had a nose job to improve his screen appearance. By the end of , King Hussein—the great-nephew of Prince Faisal, played in the film by Alec Guinness—had given his blessing to having the film shot in Jordan. Spiegel was terrified of filming in an Arab country.
Spiegel had acquired Malahne in the autumn of Several months earlier, Billy Wilder and director Robert Parrish had gone with him to see the foot-long twin-screw motor yacht, designed by Charles E. You must be going crazy. Columbia chartered it from Spiegel during the filming of Lawrence of Arabia and picked up the expenses, which were so astronomical that members of the boat community used to joke that Spiegel had charged the studio the full purchase price of Malahne as a charter fee. Spiegel greatly preferred sleeping in his own berth to risking a night in Jordan.
Before turning the lights out, Lean opened the French windows for a view of the bay. Spiegel, who was then in bed, asked where Israel was. Spiegel had initially spotted Omar Sharif, who was brought in to replace the French actor Maurice Ronet in the role of Sherif Ali, in an Arabic-language Egyptian film with French subtitles.
Throughout the filming, the cast and crew would work for 21 days straight and then have 3 days off. It was fun, except we were drunk from beginning to end—we would start on the plane and by the time we got there, we were out of it. We would take Dexedrine pills to keep awake. Neither of us wanted to waste time. After seeing the first batch of rushes, Spiegel immediately congratulated Lean and his team.
Lean was furious that Spiegel wanted him to hurry up and get out of Jordan. The director had fallen in love with the desert valley of Wadi Rum, as had the rest of his crew. It was more grand and romantic than the other locations in Jordan, which included Jebel Tubeiq and Al Jafr.
When Nutting arrived on the set, there had just been a sandstorm. The first person he saw was Lean, who was caked in dust. Taking this into account, Spiegel had good reason to be nervous. In September , Lean finally finished the Jordan shoot and agreed to leave the desert, but he remained convinced that it was a mistake to go to Spain, and felt it had everything to do with too many Hollywood dollars going into Arab hands. By late May , Spiegel and Lean were at war. The producer, convinced that his partner was going too slowly, had fixed the New York and Los Angeles release dates and scheduled a royal premiere in London for the end of the year.
Throughout the editing process, the partners were barely on speaking terms. Lawrence of Arabia received 10 Oscar nominations. Then she said Ed Begley. Lean ended up winning, as did Spiegel. With his third Academy Award, Spiegel was treated with even more respect in the film community. He was as close to an artist as a producer could get. After an extraordinary 10 years of producing, Sam Spiegel floundered. But success The extension was built by a crew of Union prisoners consisting of whites and 30 African Americans in about 14 days.
On July 1, the northern extension was opened to the prisoners who subsequently tore down the original north stockade wall, then used the timbers for fuel and building materials. By August, over 33, Union prisoners were held in the Construction of the earthworks began July 20th. These earthworks consisted of Star Fort located southwest of the prison, a redoubt located northwest of the north gate, and six redans. The middle and outer stockades were hastily constructed of unhewn pine logs set vertically in wall trenches that were about four feet deep.
The middle stockade posts projected roughly 12 feet above the ground surface and encircled the inner prison stockade as well as the corner redans. The outer stockade, which was never completed, was meant to encompass the entire complex of earthworks and stockades. The posts of the outer stockade extended about five feet above the ground surface.
By mid-November, all but about prisoners had been shipped out of Andersonville, and only a few guards remained to police them. Transfers to Andersonville in late December increased the numbers of prisoners once again, but even then the prison population totaled only about persons. The number of prisoners at the prison would remain this low until the war ended in April of During the 15 months during which Andersonville was operated, almost 13, Union prisoners died there of malnutrition, exposure, and disease; Andersonville became synonymous with the atrocities which both North and South soldiers experienced as prisoners of war.
After the war ended, the plot of ground near the prison where nearly 13, Union soldiers had been buried was administered by the United States government as a National Cemetery. The prison reverted to private hands and was planted in cotton and other crops until the land was acquired by the Grand Army of the Republic of George in During their administration, stone monuments were constructed to mark various portions of the prison including the four corners of the inner stockade and the North and South Gates.
Lee surrendered his forces to Ulysses S. The following month, Henry Wirz, Andersonville's commander was arrested for the murder of soldiers incarcerated at the prison during the war. Captain Wirz had overseen an operation in which thousands of inmates died. His trial lasted two months. More than witnesses were called to testify. But he was, historians agree, in part a scapegoat. Throughout his tenure, he was given few resources to work with, and as the Confederacy faltered, its soldiers starving and dying from injury and disease, food and medicine for Wirtz's prisoners grew almost impossible to come by.
He was executed by hanging in Washington, D. I am being hanged for obeying them. Adjustments are being made to the noose on Nov. On Bataan their field hospitals were sometimes clearings in the jungle subjected to Japanese artillery fire. Just before Bataan fell, the nurses were evacuated to Corregidor, where they served in the hospital wards buried in the tunnels and subjected to heavy Japanese artillery.
When Corregidor surrendered on May 6, , the men captured, including military and civilians, were marched through the streets of Manila to Bilibid, the old Spanish prison which the American Federal Bureau of Prisons had declared unsuitable and had started to tear down before the war. But what to do with the women nurses was a dilemma for the Japanese, and they chose to imprison them with the civilians in Santo Tomas Internment Camp. On July 2, , the 68 captured Army nurses arrived at Santo Tomas from Corregidor and were temporarily isolated in the dormitory of the Santa Catalina Hospital across the street from the main campus.
Shortly afterwards, the Japanese Commandant approved the rental of Santa Catalina as a hospital for the camp. Joining the 12 Navy nurses who had been interned in Santo Tomas since March 8, the Army nurses were assigned to staff the Santa Catalina hospital as well as the isolation hospital inside the camp and assist at various clinics. For the first two years, the medical staff within the camp included doctors and nurses from outside the camp, and with the ability to transfer patients to Manila General Hospital and other hospitals outside the camp, the medical staff was able to work effectively, though with a chronic shortage of medications.
In early , the Japanese forbade any outside doctors or nurses to enter the camp. This put a strain on the camp doctors and nurses, which was further exacerbated by a lack critical medication and surgical supplies. This would have been a greater crisis if not for the presence of the Army nurses, who had to take on the added burden of the outside nurses who were no longer permitted into the camp. On February 3, , the night of liberation, the flying column arrived with some casualties incurred on their way into Santo Tomas and during the firefight that ensued when the Japanese took hostages in the Education Building.
The Army nurses assisted the Army doctors and corpsmen in operating on these troopers and providing other medical assistance. Their assistance was also invaluable during the Japanese shelling of the camp, which resulted in the deaths of 21 people and wounding of more. On February 9, new Army Nurses flew in from Leyte to relieve them. The ones who had been in Santo Tomas remained on duty with the new nurses to help orient them.
Then on February 12, while the Battle of Manila was raging just a little over a mile away, they boarded an Army truck and were taken to a temporary airstrip for their flight to Leyte. The group of 71 included 67 nurses, the physical therapist, the dietician, and the Red Cross representative, plus the Lt. Many internees were there to see their departure from camp and to cheer them and wish them luck. They boarded a C, which developed engine trouble and landed on Mindoro. There they changed to two planes, which landed at the Tacloban Air Strip, where they were taken to a convalescent hospital.
Some of the nurses were hospitalized due to malnutrition and fatigue, but the rest stayed at the convalescent hospital located on a wide, spacious beach. There they were issued the latest nurses uniforms, which were quite different from what they had before, which delighted them. They had been wearing the same shirts and skirts that had been made by the Quartermaster on Corregidor, supplemented by a few items they had picked up during internment.
The Angels were liberated from Santo Tomas, along with 3, men, women and children civilians, by the First Cavalry Divison. Arriving in the States, they realized that they had so much to catch up with and to learn, what with advances in medicine and surgery that had been made during the war. They had missed a lot; now they would have time to absorb and understand those advances and to continue with their careers. But the nation still remembers the angels as they were and the way they distinguished themselves in their service even when they were prisoners of the Japanese.
Another in a series of personal accounts by POWs of their last moments of freedom and the personal challenges of capture and captivity. These are stories drawn from biographies POWs either penned themselves or shared orally with family and friends who transcribed them for posterity. The voice and mood of these recollections understandably span a broad range of emotions. But each gives poignant testimony to the courage, resolve and indomitable hope of the men and women who, in war, fell captive to enemy forces and were forced — in the face of deplorable deprivations — to fight for their country in totally new and unexpected ways.
Built by the French in the nineteenth century, when Vietnam was a French colony, to hold political prisoners, it later interned American POWs who rechristened it, with understandable derisiveness, "The Hanoi Hilton. Between to were captured American pilots there for interrogation and torture. And any time PBS claims to be executing a "documentary" it is guaranteed to be a screed slanted against our country. In one of the earliest North Vietnam shoot-downs Bob Shumaker?
As far as Maison Centrale went, a Hilton Hotel it was not; five stars were not even in the firmament. There were puncture wounds on the back of my wrists that went to the bone, inflicted by the primitive gear and screw handcuffs they used to immobilize my hands. Where the ropes were tied across my elbows my left arm was cut to the muscle and the right elbow to the bone as a result of the sawing motion they used to apply force the various parts of the body.
I have those scars with me even to this day. The shackles and bar arrangement they used to immobilize my legs tore away the skin to bone at both ankles. No one of these injuries in themselves or in combination was life threatening until all six became infected. At that point my survival was in the hands of God. To counter the results of the trauma I decided to check out of my accommodations. Physical escape was not in the cards. However I was able to disassociate. It took a while to develop this talent. I started by talking to various parts of my body commiserating with them.
I scolded the pain saying that we were well aware that something was out of whack and we needed no more prompts. My favorite perch was up on the ceiling where I could look down on myself and observe what was going on with me or, if in the Knobby Room, what was being done to me. I became a master of critical evaluation regarding my interrogators' and torturers' techniques.
After the Son Tay Rescue Raid the Communists decided to ship the younger studs up to the Chinese boarder and place us old fuds downtown Hanoi, on ground zero, in case of massive raids and an invasion. American POWs had by then attained a measure of value as hostages. I understand that they are putting you up in the Hanoi Hilton until the end of the war. That day in I feared future generations might consider us to be in the same circumstances as the Saudi Princes currently found themselves — all of us allegedly having been ensconced in the 5-star accommodations of a prestigious hotel chain.
Jim predicted revisionist pundits posing as professors, if they should teach about the Vietnam War at all, would manage to remove the quotation marks around "Hanoi Hilton" when referring to the POW main prison location. My granddaughters attending colleges and watching TV today are being indoctrinated, not educated.
Jim and I started our own reality check by matching stories about our first few weeks after checking to the Maison Centrale. There was no lounge, lobby or check-in area. We were placed in a holding room with knobby walls designed to attenuate sound, a hook in the ceiling and a couple of hooks in the walls. There was one light hanging form a wire out of the ceiling. There was a rusted bucket in the corner obviously for human waste. The surfaces were stained with human fluids. The air was stale, fetid and cloying. I was to spend a week there in my skivvies, "checking in.
I had my own private toilet — a rusted bucket with a lid. There were two cement bed pads built against the wall with leg stocks at the end of each. It appeared to be a space about 6 feet wide, 8 feet long and 14 feet high. There was a bared and boarded window high up on the outside wall and a strong door with a Judas hole on the passageway side.
I had two meals a day with random hits on the head and interrogations at unpredictable times through any hour period. Once they determined that I was going to live they issued me some go-aheads made of rubber tires for soles and inner tubes for an arch strap, T shirt, skive shorts boxer , mess dress uniform striped PJs , a hand towel, a see-thru blanket and a straw matt. I was a thing of sartorial splendor. Interestingly enough, I had no injuries resulting from the blowing up of — and my simultaneous ejection from — the A4E Skyhawk.
There were no injuries resulting from the parachute landing or the succession of beatings administered by the rather irate peasants that captured me. I was unmerciful in critiquing my performance and reaction to the VC — learning from every mistake and becoming aware of every cue as to their upcoming behavior. It was a grand show!
I proved to myself while they might be able to control my body they had nothing to say about my mind.
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They could bend my will but they could not break me. They being the disease, the germs, the pain or the Communists. If you arrived in Hoa Lo with injuries that they exacerbated as part of their torture regime as they did with Jim Kassler and others, torture was an unmitigated evil.
Otherwise, if they tortured you, you either lived or you died. Their intent was not to kill you by torture but to exploit you. So voluntary death was not an option that was on the table. As a result you learned how far you could resist on any one day and took the process to that limit. The concept was to bend to just before they broke you and you did something incredibly stupid to hurt your shipmates or your country. You learned that they also had limitations. Authority for torture came from the highest levels and the individual interrogator may or may not have that authority on any one day.
They also were working with time constraints and maybe you could outlast them. And sometime, you could make it just too much work for them, given whatever result they were looking for on that day. It was a crap shoot. At each step the accommodations improved: another cell mate, 3 cell mates, 30 cell mates, 40 cell mates. Torture, as a routine event, stopped around ; my last beating was in I was released in Food and water became adequate to sustain life. Sporadic mail 6-line forms exchange was negotiated by Mr. In the fullness of time I won, as had Jim Kassler.
After about a year we were of no use to them. What is the purpose of this discussion? Certainly my wounds were insignificant compared to the horrific combat wounds experienced by the ground troops. I was blessed. The purpose of this discussion is to document two facts. Americans were not treated as Prisoners of War, they were treated as criminals.
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There was no Hilton Hotel in Hanoi in which prisoners or princes for that matter were ever held captive. The remains of the Maison Centrale are now a museum. While a prisoner of war from he earned the Silver Star for valor and leadership during his 2, days of captivity. House Of Representatives, Washington, D. Many of you know him from his previous testimony over the years. My dad joins me in thanking you for the opportunity to express our comments today. This Congress has stepped up and passed several key pieces of legislation in support of our veterans with respect to health care, compensation, and public awareness in the case of approving a location for the Operation Desert Storm memorial.
Several pieces of new legislation are important and continually improving all facets of the Veterans Administration operation is necessary. We often speak at this hearing about how the VA needs to improve and model its methods about particular successful and efficient industries.
We need to get to where we use the term operational excellence and VA in the same sentence. For an organization that large it takes time, but we need to focus on select areas to build some successes to point at. Our legislative agenda has been very consistent year to year. It is based on the earned benefits of the veteran for serving their country, never using the word"entitlements" in the same sentence as veteran. Its center is healthcare and fair compensation to the veteran and their family. In our organization, we have members in that age group.
In , Congress and the President mandated VA health care for veterans with service connected disabilities as well as other special groups of veterans. WWII ended over 72 years ago. We also draw your attention to several bills which we believe have special merit and request your active support. All veterans in all VA facilities deserve adequate care from VA employees. HR and S. Thank you for your time and attention and most importantly your unwavering support of ex-POWs and all veterans — deserving heroes every one.
God bless our troops God bless America Charles A. In fact they often run in packs, and more often than not those packs are highly dependent on a den mother. No matter where or how far they roam, especially in wartime, subs don't stray too far from the "Mother Ship" and never for too long. They return for all the reasons anyone goes home to mom: for succor, nourishment, replenishment and, often enough, repair. Regardless of the trouble a sub got into or whatever damage it sustained, the mother's job was to make everything all right again, sometimes with remedies bordering on magical.
In addition to stores of supplies and munitions, these service ships carried large inventories of parts and materials, and could fix anything. What they didn't have in stock they could make in one of several on-board machine shops. The name itself comes from the mythical figure Canopus, navigator for Menelaus, king of Sparta. She didn't start out as a sub tender. She didn't even start out as Canopus. And she was already long in the tooth when she took her star turn in the Bay of Manila in the early, harrowing days of World War II.
Grace and Co. But her future never lay with the leisure class. She was a trans-Atlantic troop transport briefly but then was transferred over to the Army in September A Shipfitter donned the one breathing apparatus outfit undamaged by the bomb's detonation and carried a fire hose down to the magazines, backed by shipmates working in relays, each of which stayed as long as men could stand the fumes. He was later found wandering around the ship in a daze, with no recollection of what happened after the blast. In a tour of the magazines several crushed and exploded powder charges were found: unsettling testimony to how close to complete destruction the ship, and all on board, had come.
Sackett wrote, "but miracles do happen. Bomb fragments had severed several pipes near the magazines, which released floods of steam and water that kept fire away from the rest of the powder. US Navy photo Canopus was then reacquired by the Navy in and converted, in Boston, to a submarine tender, a role the fates had seemingly singled her out for. Only not in Boston.
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She was outfitted with machine shops, foundries, storerooms, cabins and living spaces for her crews and, in the words of her skipper, "a few guns as a concession to the fact that she was now a man-of-war": The USS Canopus. Canopus by the Numbers: Displacement 5, tons Length ft, 8 in. Beam 51 ft. Draft 16 ft. Speed rated She sailed for duty with the Asiatic Fleet in September She and her squadron of submarines arrived in the Philippines on November 4, and began regular service in Manila Bay, with occasional training cruises to Chinese and Japanese ports, and to the British and French colonies.
Between and , the tender was flagship of submarine divisions in the Asiatic Fleet. Anti-aircraft machine guns had been added to her armament, and light armor had been fitted around exposed positions, which would shortly prove useful in warding off bomb fragments. Nine hours after their sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese forces began a steady aerial assault on the Philippines. At dawn the next day, the Canopus was ordered alongside the docks in Manila's chief port. If she should be sunk there the water would be shallow enough that the ship would rest mostly above water.
Stores, torpedoes, and equipment could be salvaged. In the days that followed, Canopus and crew worked around the clock repairing ships damaged in the daily air raids.
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This in addition to tending to their brood of submarines at sea. The Japanese invasion force attacking the Philippines was actually outnumbered 3 to 2, but they were crack troops, Japan's best trained and most seasoned. Plus, they had the support of a fully functioning navy and air force which, after attacks on Pearl and Clark and Nichols airfields in the Philippines, the Allies did not.
The ship's commanding officer, Capt. Sackett, authored an account of Canopus 's Philippines exploits to be distributed to relatives of the ship's officers and men. In it he described the steps the crew took to improve their chances of survival against the relentless Japanese bombing sorties against the port. The more exposed fuel tanks were emptied and filled with water to reduce the danger of a disastrous fire which might make it impossible to save the ship if the oil were touched off by a bomb.
On Christmas Day, Canopus sailed southwest to the relative safety of Mariveles Bay at the tip of Bataan island, close to the Allied guns of Corregidor. Nonetheless, it was there on December 29, that Canopus suffered her first direct bomb hit, a pound armor-piercing ordnance that penetrated all her decks, exploding on the propeller shaft housing amd killing six sailors. Sackett's account details the crew's response to the hit. They directed their hose streams down the hatches, unmindful of ominous detonations below which told them magazines might go at any moment.
When the fire pumps failed, bucket brigades carried on the battle. As a 3 c nonprofit organization, American Ex-Prisoners of War is eligible to receive tax-deductible charitable contributions. GuideStar gathers, organizes, and distributes information about U. S nonprofits, and awards its gold seal in recognition of transparency and currency in financial reporting. Apply now! Cameramen started their cameras and then had to jump for their lives clear of the explosions.
Statement of Charles A. The Last Christmas in Camp. Christmas in Camp. Another in a series of first-hand accounts by POWs of their last moments of freedom and the personal challenges of capture and captivity. In Their Own Words Last Man Out of the Tunnel.
In life in the camp was pretty good. White's transport huey marked with orange bands to designate a friendly aircraft. From February until the end of the Civil War in April , Andersonville, Georgia, was the site of a notorious Confederate military prison.
Andersonville Prison, Ga. Issuing rations, view from main gate. February liberated from Santo Tomas Internment Camp after two and a half years of captivity, nurses known as the Angels of Bataan and Corregidor load up to leave Manila. Checking in to the "Hanoi Hilton".
In a basket of deplorables Communist Designation were settling into Cell Seven as part of a massive relocation of prisoners in North Vietnam. Cell Interior Hoa Lo Prison. The Strappado in Process: Welcome to Hanoi. US Navy photo. Hiding in plain sight. After her second direct hit in the Bay of Mariveles, Canopus went undercover.
Flooding the ballast tanks pitched the ship toward one side. Smudge pots of oily rags set afire in the holds sent up ribbons of black smoke. Black "bomb holes" were painted on the decks. Cargo booms were left draped in the water. The smokestack was already splintered from the bomb. By day Japanese reconnaissance flyovers saw an abandoned, burned out and listing hulk.
After dark the hull was righted and the ship became an all-night machine shop turning out parts and making damaged ships seaworthy. With this ruse, the Canopus escaped attack for four months. Drawing by Lt. JG Willard C. Johnson, LT. JG, Canopus crew member, interned after the fall of Corregidor in Japan, The final crewmen were also evacuated to Corregidor and served in the 4th Marine Regiment's 4th Battalion Reserves Provisional , which fought the final battle for the island fortress. All told, Canopus crewmen were killed or listed as missing in action.
The website On Eternal Patrol features personal memorial postings for each of those officers and men. For the full text of Capt. Christmas in the Camp: Ernest G. He and his fellow inductees lived in hotels and took basic training on a golf course and the beach. From there they went to Panama City for more training.
Then to Mitchell Field, NY for crew assignment. Then to Charleston, SC to learn to fly together. I rented a furnished room, a month ahead to hold it, and we got married June 3, When l I got leave, we went back to Baltimore together, but then I had to leave her again for Charleston. Then the idea came to us to make a cake for Christmas day.
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Each of us gave something from our parcels such as powdered milk, chocolate, sugar, or salt. When Christmas day finally arrived we were ready to clebrate. We had lots of food and a big, beautiful Christmas cake. Wedding Day June 3, Then we were given a new plane of our own to take overseas. We left from Mitchell Field, New York and went to Bangor, Maine for supplies, then left the States for Newfoundland where we sat for about a week because of bad weather.
We landed in Marrakech, then on to Tunis, and from there we flew to Foggia, Italy where they took our plane. They gave us an old beaten up one in its place. Later we found out that this was customary; a new plane was given to a crew that was about finished and ready to go back to the United States "We were assigned to an air base at Cherignola, Italy and given a six-man tent to sleep in at the edge of an almond orchard. At first we had a dirt floor, cots and candles for lights. We started improving the flooring and made some cabinets out of cardboard and rolled up the sides of the tent to let in cool air.
After a week or two we were given one bulb for light. It got its power from a generator at the base. Experienced pilots flew with us for a few days and then we were on our own to fly every day, weather permitting. We started flying actual combat missions on August 12, The Hungary targets were bad for fighters, but Blechammer, our target on August 22, was as bad as Polesti. We had to fight our way away from the target until the moment we had to parachute out of the plane. We saw one plane blow up and two others take hits.
On three engines, we could not keep up with the formation. After the bombs were dropped, we were attacked by four fighters, lost another engine and suffered other damage as well. I shot the plane attacking our tail, and it exploded. The fighter on the side killed Tomlinson, our waist gunner, and hit Benetti, the ball turret gunner. That gave the German fighters two positions not covered. Our top-gunner, Peterson, and I both were shooting at him, and he was hit and bailed out.
Then I realized we were going down fast and our radio was shot out. I got out of my turret and went up into the waist and put on my parachute. Peterson came down into the waist with his parachute on, and I had to move Tomlinson's body from the escape door so we could get out. I opened the hatch and motioned for Peterson to go out, but he motioned for me to go! I realized that we had to get out, so I jumped.
Peterson told me later, when he saw my chute open he jumped, too. A German fighter came straight toward me. We had heard about fighter pilots shooting at airmen in their chutes. But, at the last minute this one tipped his wing and came close enough for me to see him motion to me. The others were captured in an open field.
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I could not get my chute out of the trees, so I took off my flying suit and boots and left them in a stump hole. I crawled under some bushes and tried to collect my thoughts. I removed my escape kit and tried to determine where I was. He kept motioning for me to put my hands up. I could see he was as scared of me as I was of him.
Another soldier then came up, and they searched me. They kept saying "pistols," I guess because they knew we were issued. I told them mine had gone down with the plane. I was always glad that I didn't wear it, because I might have tried to use it. There I saw two of my crew members and four from another crew at the jail. We spent the night with bed bugs androaches. The next day we were moved through the village and were fortunate to have the German soldiers along to keep civilians off of us.
They were throwing things, spitting and hollering "gangsters" at us. We understood why later on when we passed a hospital that had been bombed. There we were given something to eat, the first food we'd had had since being shot down. We were questioned and our belts, shoelaces, rings, watches and everything we had in our pockets was taken from us. It was three stories high and was open in the center with walkways around each staircase.
All of the cells were solitary cells about four feet by sixteen feet in size with no windows and one light bulb that burned all of the time. Our comforts consisted of one cot, a door with a slot through which bowls of soup were given to us twice a day and one loaf of bread a day, and one bucket for a toilet. No one ever spoke. I counted the bricks in that cell a thousand times, and I thought I would remember the number, but I don't. After seven days of silence I was taken to a German officer for questioning. We had been trained to give only our name, rank and serial number.
I was then sent back to my cell for another seven days, followed by another trip for questioning. It was too crowded to lie down, so we had to stand or sit. We were locked in our boxcar and in the next one were the guards with their dogs. We only had one bucket for a toilet for over forty men. Some men were sick and some were injured.
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We were on the train for two days before we were allowed to get out and given water and bread. We stopped in a large rail yard one night and the R. The guards left for shelters and we were left behind, locked in the boxcar. Luckily the bombs missed us. They did tear up some of the rails further ahead. We stayed there another day, locked up. Finally, we started again, attached to another train.
We started seeing lots of bomb damage to towns and bridges as we passed through Poland. We were at a train station in a small town where there were guards with dogs to escort us on a one mile walk to our camp. By this time, we were in pitiful shape. The camp was still being built, but we were assigned to barracks with twenty-two men, all together in one room.
We had a spigot to wash up with and a latrine which had ten holes. Many times you didn't have time to wait. For that reason it was a very good thing our government sent lots of clothes and shoes to the camps. Once in a while, we got Red Cross parcels, which were like Christmas to a child. We were each supposed to receive a package, but we usually had to divide one package four ways. They contained everything you needed for a week: canned cheese, canned meat, crackers, candy bars, chocolate, cigarettes, toilet paper which was worth a fortune , a sewing kit, playing cards, biscuits, and writing paper.
Many old prisoners were getting parcels from home that included clothes, food and cigarettes. We received a variety of things from the Red Cross and the Salvation Army, but it was the food parcels that kept us alive. Many more men would have died had it not been for those food parcels. Guards in the towers would shoot over their heads as a warning but always had to shoot them because they were so determined to try to escape.
The alcohol was very potent, especially on our empty stomachs with that rich cake. These musicians would get together and play. At Christmas the Germans allowed us to use a large hall and the men with instruments gave a wild party. You should have seen the crazy dancing that was done.
Until the last song, "White Christmas," was played. After that each one of us went back to our room with tears rolling down our cheeks.
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