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Paperback format at Amazon.com
ebook format at Amazon.com Ten additional ebook retailers. (Apple, Kobo, Everland, Thalia, Smashwords, Indigo, Angus & Robertson, Mondadori, Vivlio, Palace Marketplace.) A collection of poems from World War II, primarily focusing on the war in the South Pacific and, in particular, the Solomon Islands Campaign. The poems were collected by William C. Livingood while he was a Flight Surgeon assigned to the U. S. Marine Corps fighter squadron, VMF-213, also known as the Hell Hawks. Many of the poems were written by a VMF-213 pilot, Theron Hart Brown, III. One poem was written by the famous journalist, Frank McCulloch, as a Marine, prior to starting his career after the war as an investigative reporter. A number of the poems are anonymous. Context for the poems is provided in an Introduction and in individual commentary after the poems. Best efforts were made in attributing authorship of each poem.. The VMF - 213 website documents the hardships of combat and of environmental conditions, establishing a remarkable context for the poems in this collection.
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Table of Contents (Five of the poems, marked in RED are available for your viewing, below.)
List of Poems By Section:
Section A: Poems Identified with VMF-213
Section B - Poems Identified with WWII Marines in the South Pacific
Section C: Handwritten Poems on the Islands and Australia
- Preface
- Introduction: VMF-213 and the Solomon Island Campaign
- Section A: Poems Identified with VMF-213
- Section B - Poems Identified with WWII Marines in the South Pacific
- Section C: Handwritten Poems on the Islands and Australia
- Map Appendices
List of Poems By Section:
Section A: Poems Identified with VMF-213
- TWO-THIRTEEN AND THEIR F4U’S
- Thoughts of Riding the Tontouta Express
- Orders for Two-Thirteen
- THE BUG OF FATE!
- In Memoriam - Wade H. Britt, Jr.
- Why?
- Up There in the Skies
- "SNAFU"
- IN FLIGHT
- Letter To:
- THE PLANE IN FLIGHT
- Dedication to Major Weissenberger
- OVER THE HORIZON
Section B - Poems Identified with WWII Marines in the South Pacific
- The Graves of Gavutu
- “OUR FIGHTING MEN”
- THE ROAD TO GIZO BAY
- WHAT MAKES A MARINE
- Expressions of a Marine’s opinion
- EDSON’S RIDGE
- THE U. S. MARINES
- THE ONLY WAY TO WIN
Section C: Handwritten Poems on the Islands and Australia
- Song of the Island
- A Poem Fresh from Australia
- Ode to the End of Time
- Tropical Duty
Select Hell Hawk Poems included in Education Project
Approximately, 8 of the above poems with a picture of the survivors of VMF-213's three combat tours were included in a significant education project, "Understanding Sacrifice." The project is sponsored by the American Battle Monuments Commission (ABMC) and the VA National Cemetery Administration (NCA). The project was in partnership with National History Day and the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media. See ABMC Education Project: The Song of War: Poetry from the Pacific Theater.
Approximately, 8 of the above poems with a picture of the survivors of VMF-213's three combat tours were included in a significant education project, "Understanding Sacrifice." The project is sponsored by the American Battle Monuments Commission (ABMC) and the VA National Cemetery Administration (NCA). The project was in partnership with National History Day and the Roy Rosenzweig Center for History and New Media. See ABMC Education Project: The Song of War: Poetry from the Pacific Theater.
THE BUG OF FATE!
Yes, there’s only one way to explain it,
I’ve decided it really was fate.
For who’d think that a bug brought together,
A cadet and a girl who is great?
I was minding my own damn good business
(It was after my down-check on “B”)
When I started to cough and to sniffle,
And a gold-brick decided to be.
Spent two days in the Sick Bay Dispensary,
And I thought I’d be out on the third:
But a pharyngite bug had attacked me-
Left a cough that was really a bird!
“Hmmm – There’s only one way to defeat it,”
Said the doc, “So I think we’ll send
This young lad to the kind tender mercies
Of the guys up on ‘Hospital Bend’”.
Now I won’t say I’m sorry it happened
For I wasn’t up there very long,
When a wise-cracking cute little female
Came into my life like a song.
She was standing right there in the doorway,
(It was easy to see she’s a nurse)
And she said, with a pleasant expression,
“Cadet Brown! – Are you better or worse?”
Once recovered from child-like confusion,
And then seeing the chance that I had,
I quick gathered my wits and half muttered,
“I’ve seen plenty, and, son – that’s not bad!!”
So the days that I stayed were a pleasure,
(it was hard, tho’, to get magazines)
For she often dropped by isolation
Till I was up and once more on the scenes.
When recovered and back in the running,
I soon gave the sweet girl a few calls;
And we spent many pleasant long hours
At the beach, at shows, and the balls.
There’s a moral that goes with this story:-
To be safe as a bachelor mug,
I advise – and it freely is given –
Don’t go fooling around with a bug!!!
Guadalcanal – April 11, 1943.
Yes, there’s only one way to explain it,
I’ve decided it really was fate.
For who’d think that a bug brought together,
A cadet and a girl who is great?
I was minding my own damn good business
(It was after my down-check on “B”)
When I started to cough and to sniffle,
And a gold-brick decided to be.
Spent two days in the Sick Bay Dispensary,
And I thought I’d be out on the third:
But a pharyngite bug had attacked me-
Left a cough that was really a bird!
“Hmmm – There’s only one way to defeat it,”
Said the doc, “So I think we’ll send
This young lad to the kind tender mercies
Of the guys up on ‘Hospital Bend’”.
Now I won’t say I’m sorry it happened
For I wasn’t up there very long,
When a wise-cracking cute little female
Came into my life like a song.
She was standing right there in the doorway,
(It was easy to see she’s a nurse)
And she said, with a pleasant expression,
“Cadet Brown! – Are you better or worse?”
Once recovered from child-like confusion,
And then seeing the chance that I had,
I quick gathered my wits and half muttered,
“I’ve seen plenty, and, son – that’s not bad!!”
So the days that I stayed were a pleasure,
(it was hard, tho’, to get magazines)
For she often dropped by isolation
Till I was up and once more on the scenes.
When recovered and back in the running,
I soon gave the sweet girl a few calls;
And we spent many pleasant long hours
At the beach, at shows, and the balls.
There’s a moral that goes with this story:-
To be safe as a bachelor mug,
I advise – and it freely is given –
Don’t go fooling around with a bug!!!
Guadalcanal – April 11, 1943.
Graves of Gavutu
They rise from the graves of Gavutu,
These ghosts of the shattered dead,
And they walk on the shores of Gavutu,
With a bewildered, aimless tread.
They rise from the graves of Gavutu,
These souls of American men,
Who died on the shores of Gavutu
That others might live again.
They rise from the graves of Gavutu,
And face a western land,
And words the West wind carries
They do not understand.
For the wind brings word of bickering
And of the state of “civilian morale,”
While here on the shores of Gavutu
They died in a living hell.
And here on the shores of Gavutu
The ghost of a private speaks well,
“what do they mean, sarge,” he asks,
“When they talk of 'civilian morale?'”
Sgt. Frank W. McCulloch
Comments: This poem appears only in Doc Livingood’s records on a separately typed sheet. The author Frank McCulloch enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps in 1942 but a medical condition kept him stateside. Frank McCoulloch spent the war writing up the heroic deeds of soldiers for the Marines' public information office in San Francisco. After the war, McCulloch returned to Reno to write for the Reno Evening Gazette, where he got his first taste of investigative reporting. He had a long and distinguished career as an investigative reporter. On May 3, 2011, Frank McCulloch confirmed he had written the poem, Graves of Gavutu.
Frank McCulloch, who covered the Vietnam War from the front lines and later worked as editor for newspapers across the U.S. during a half-century journalism career, died in May 2018 in Northern California. He was 98. See article, Frank McCulloch, a towering figure in American journalism, passes away. The battle for Gavutu and Tanambogo, occurred in August of 1942. Joined by a narrow causeway, these two small spots of land had been developed before the war as a Royal Australian Air Force seaplane base. After the Japanese took the Southern Solomons in early May 1942, they continued that use, and had over five hundred to one thousand men stationed on these islands. There were several four-engine patrol seaplanes and single-engine floatplane fighters when dawn broke on August 7; these aircraft were destroyed by U.S. carrier planes. The Japanese occupants of the islands, a mixture of aviation personnel, construction troops and Special Naval Landing Force "marines," defended the islands.
They rise from the graves of Gavutu,
These ghosts of the shattered dead,
And they walk on the shores of Gavutu,
With a bewildered, aimless tread.
They rise from the graves of Gavutu,
These souls of American men,
Who died on the shores of Gavutu
That others might live again.
They rise from the graves of Gavutu,
And face a western land,
And words the West wind carries
They do not understand.
For the wind brings word of bickering
And of the state of “civilian morale,”
While here on the shores of Gavutu
They died in a living hell.
And here on the shores of Gavutu
The ghost of a private speaks well,
“what do they mean, sarge,” he asks,
“When they talk of 'civilian morale?'”
Sgt. Frank W. McCulloch
Comments: This poem appears only in Doc Livingood’s records on a separately typed sheet. The author Frank McCulloch enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps in 1942 but a medical condition kept him stateside. Frank McCoulloch spent the war writing up the heroic deeds of soldiers for the Marines' public information office in San Francisco. After the war, McCulloch returned to Reno to write for the Reno Evening Gazette, where he got his first taste of investigative reporting. He had a long and distinguished career as an investigative reporter. On May 3, 2011, Frank McCulloch confirmed he had written the poem, Graves of Gavutu.
Frank McCulloch, who covered the Vietnam War from the front lines and later worked as editor for newspapers across the U.S. during a half-century journalism career, died in May 2018 in Northern California. He was 98. See article, Frank McCulloch, a towering figure in American journalism, passes away. The battle for Gavutu and Tanambogo, occurred in August of 1942. Joined by a narrow causeway, these two small spots of land had been developed before the war as a Royal Australian Air Force seaplane base. After the Japanese took the Southern Solomons in early May 1942, they continued that use, and had over five hundred to one thousand men stationed on these islands. There were several four-engine patrol seaplanes and single-engine floatplane fighters when dawn broke on August 7; these aircraft were destroyed by U.S. carrier planes. The Japanese occupants of the islands, a mixture of aviation personnel, construction troops and Special Naval Landing Force "marines," defended the islands.
The Photographs below are from the Department of the Navy, Naval Historical Center.
Gavutu and Tanambogo gave the Japanese good defensive positions. Each island was dominated by a large hill, while buildings and entrenchments provided cover for Japanese machine guns and small artillery pieces. A brief pre-landing bombardment did little to reduce the defenses, so casualties were serious when U.S. Marines came ashore on Gavutu's northeastern side at about noon on August 7th. Fighting continued on that island for the rest of the day, through the night and into August 8th before Gavutu was reasonably secure. Meanwhile, Marine reserves had been called over from Guadalcanal to Tulagi and Gavutu-Tanambogo.
A small Marine attack on Tanambogo had failed during the evening of the August 7th. In the morning, fresh Marines reinforcements arrived on Gavutu. After a heavy bombardment by U. S. Navy ships, landings began on Tanambogo, and by nightfall the island was basically in American hands. The cost of taking Gavutu and Tanambogo was seventy Marine lives; there were few Japanese survivors.
Gavutu and Tanambogo gave the Japanese good defensive positions. Each island was dominated by a large hill, while buildings and entrenchments provided cover for Japanese machine guns and small artillery pieces. A brief pre-landing bombardment did little to reduce the defenses, so casualties were serious when U.S. Marines came ashore on Gavutu's northeastern side at about noon on August 7th. Fighting continued on that island for the rest of the day, through the night and into August 8th before Gavutu was reasonably secure. Meanwhile, Marine reserves had been called over from Guadalcanal to Tulagi and Gavutu-Tanambogo.
A small Marine attack on Tanambogo had failed during the evening of the August 7th. In the morning, fresh Marines reinforcements arrived on Gavutu. After a heavy bombardment by U. S. Navy ships, landings began on Tanambogo, and by nightfall the island was basically in American hands. The cost of taking Gavutu and Tanambogo was seventy Marine lives; there were few Japanese survivors.
Key to the 46 numbered items on this intelligence map is listed in comments to this poem in the ebook, The Hell Hawk Poems.
This Poem is found in Section B of the collection. The Poem was first published in the Leatherneck (U.S. Marine magazine) in February 1943 and was probably seen there by the VMF-213 marines.
A 2014 article captures Frank McCullock's life in a very succinct fashion with due respect to his distinguished career as an investigative reporter at "McCulloch, 94, still a journalist's journalist." His career in journalism is commemorated by both a scholarship, the Frank McCulloch Investigative Reporting Scholarship, and the McCulloch Courage in Journalism Award. You also should review Chapter 3 - Gavutu and Tanambogo Islands of the book, One Man’s View. It has additional details.
Over the Horizon
There’s a story that needs telling
Of our friends that don’t come back
Of the boys who’ve left our Hell Hawks
Of the comrades that we lack.
There was Britt and Tate and Eckart,
There was Peck and Poncho too.
Every one of them is gone now,
But their mem’ries follow through.
When the legends that will follow
Are all spun in years to come,
We will talk of these dead heros,
They who died to sink the Sun.
Was there ever squadron so gifted
As were we with Britt to lead?
Was there ever a squadron struck harder
By a more ill-fated dead?
A man loved as well as respected
From the low to high in ranks
To have known and followed this leader
Was an honor. We give our thanks.
Then of Tate we’ll all remember
How he grinned and laughed away
All the luck misfortune sent him
Up until that fateful day.
And of Eckart, unassuming
With his pipe and quiet way
Of the four who turned back forty
Its’ for Lee we stopped to pray.
Next of those whose names we honor
Was a boy in years and ken,
But he flew and fought a veteran;
Peck was liked by all his men.
There is naught but good to say now
Of the one shot down in flame.
All the oldest of the Hell Hawks
Will long honor Poncho’s name.
That’s the story needed telling
Of our friends who won’t come back.
There are others who are missing,
Other comrades that we lack.
There is Winnia and Spoede,
There is “Bluebeard” Votaw, too.
There’s a chance they’ll be returning
And we fondly pray they do.
Tho’ we’ve gotten 67,
And we’ve only lost these 8
And these 8 are all we’ve lost
We’d return the 67,
For not one is worth the cost.
________________________________________
Brown
Comments: In addition to the handwritten name of Brown on the original and its inclusion in the other collection of poems attributed to Captain T. H. Brown, III, this poem seems to chronologically fit the authorship of Theron Brown, who was killed in action on September 12, 1943. The poem chronicles the deaths of VMF-213 members and those missing in action (MIA) but predates Captain Brown’s death. Sandra Brown, widow of Sherwood P. Brown, Theron’s brother, specifically identified this poem as one in her collection that had the notation, South Pacific Summer 1943. The VMF-213 pilots mentioned in the poem are:
There’s a story that needs telling
Of our friends that don’t come back
Of the boys who’ve left our Hell Hawks
Of the comrades that we lack.
There was Britt and Tate and Eckart,
There was Peck and Poncho too.
Every one of them is gone now,
But their mem’ries follow through.
When the legends that will follow
Are all spun in years to come,
We will talk of these dead heros,
They who died to sink the Sun.
Was there ever squadron so gifted
As were we with Britt to lead?
Was there ever a squadron struck harder
By a more ill-fated dead?
A man loved as well as respected
From the low to high in ranks
To have known and followed this leader
Was an honor. We give our thanks.
Then of Tate we’ll all remember
How he grinned and laughed away
All the luck misfortune sent him
Up until that fateful day.
And of Eckart, unassuming
With his pipe and quiet way
Of the four who turned back forty
Its’ for Lee we stopped to pray.
Next of those whose names we honor
Was a boy in years and ken,
But he flew and fought a veteran;
Peck was liked by all his men.
There is naught but good to say now
Of the one shot down in flame.
All the oldest of the Hell Hawks
Will long honor Poncho’s name.
That’s the story needed telling
Of our friends who won’t come back.
There are others who are missing,
Other comrades that we lack.
There is Winnia and Spoede,
There is “Bluebeard” Votaw, too.
There’s a chance they’ll be returning
And we fondly pray they do.
Tho’ we’ve gotten 67,
And we’ve only lost these 8
And these 8 are all we’ve lost
We’d return the 67,
For not one is worth the cost.
________________________________________
Brown
Comments: In addition to the handwritten name of Brown on the original and its inclusion in the other collection of poems attributed to Captain T. H. Brown, III, this poem seems to chronologically fit the authorship of Theron Brown, who was killed in action on September 12, 1943. The poem chronicles the deaths of VMF-213 members and those missing in action (MIA) but predates Captain Brown’s death. Sandra Brown, widow of Sherwood P. Brown, Theron’s brother, specifically identified this poem as one in her collection that had the notation, South Pacific Summer 1943. The VMF-213 pilots mentioned in the poem are:
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Name Referenced in Poem
Britt Tate Eckart Peck Poncho Winnia Spoede "Bluebeard" Votaw |
Full Name
Wade H. Britt Don H. Tate Leland L. Eckart Milton E. Peck Foy R. Garison Charles C. Winnia Herman H. Spoede Robert W. Votaw |
Date of Death/MIA
April 13, 1943 June 29, 1943 April 25, 1943 June 30, 1943 July 17, 1943 July 18, 1943 July 3, 1943 July 15, 1943 |
Ode to the End of Time
In the deep Pacific so far away
The Lord must have lost his temper one day
And in his wrath he thumbed his nose,
And on that spot an island rose.
A Hell on earth, believe me, Pal!
This miserable place became –
A place where every man is weaned
On bright yellow pills called Atabrine!
Where a torrid sun burns flaming red
And makes a man wish he were dead,
A spot were a man draws his lot
Of fever and jaundice and tropical rot.
Where every man is sure to wear
A nest of ant in his hair,
For freedom’s sake we came to fight,
For people’s sake we fought with might.
For justices sake we made Tojo run.
For our soldiers sake the fight was won.
For our country’s sake we were willing to roam,
But now for Christ’s sake, let’s go home.
Albin J. Pearson
33 C.B. (33rd U.S. Naval Construction Battalion)
In the deep Pacific so far away
The Lord must have lost his temper one day
And in his wrath he thumbed his nose,
And on that spot an island rose.
A Hell on earth, believe me, Pal!
This miserable place became –
A place where every man is weaned
On bright yellow pills called Atabrine!
Where a torrid sun burns flaming red
And makes a man wish he were dead,
A spot were a man draws his lot
Of fever and jaundice and tropical rot.
Where every man is sure to wear
A nest of ant in his hair,
For freedom’s sake we came to fight,
For people’s sake we fought with might.
For justices sake we made Tojo run.
For our soldiers sake the fight was won.
For our country’s sake we were willing to roam,
But now for Christ’s sake, let’s go home.
Albin J. Pearson
33 C.B. (33rd U.S. Naval Construction Battalion)