Information found in THE INTREPID Newsletter Vol. 3, Num 4 of Oct 1945

     Joe sat on the flight deck with a cold and low morale. Other people thought he wind was warmed just right by the sun but Joe had chills along with a bad disposition.

     Usually the sight of an armada thrilled Joe but this morning those battlewagons and cruisers were just another item of the war that had kept hi in the service so long. Joe thought he would write a letter to his congressman and find out why the point system had to be so high and beyond him. Under this present system he would have another year tacked onto his three and a half of service.

     That island off to the starboard about ten miles looked dismal through the haze. Joe thought it would be good to stretch his legs even if he wasn’t at peace with the world. Walking forward along the starboard catwalk he bumped everybody that cam that way. Thinking, “I may as well let them know I’m around”.

It was kind of funny the way that island sat off on the horizon. Looked plenty small from back yonder but up close it got big and stared a guy in the face. The closer a fellow got the more of it appeared out of the haze. Joe stood there looking hard for what he wanted to see and suddenly a faint trace of an outline stuck its arm up into the sky.

“Mt. Suribachi” muttered Joe, and he lost some of that disgust for the world. He remembered that letter three weeks ago from the little woman telling him about all the guys from home that are buried out here.

Joe feels pretty cheap all of a sudden, he’s sitting almost at the foot of his friends’ graves and griping about a cold and a discharge. He says, “sure Joe, you’ve been fighting this war a long time but you’re still in one piece to talk about it.” Joe thinks its hell that people can forget so easily, he know that a lot of people in the states probably never realized the true meaning of Okinawa. Its more than a Nap name to Joe, it means ‘hell on earth’ and Joe does like a lot of other Joes will do, he says just a little prayer for those gyrenes and doggies who gave their lives for him and the rest of the U.S. population.

Ref: THE INTREPID newsletter, Volume 3, Number 4, October 1945