BBfanboy
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Joined: 8/4/2010
From: Winnipeg, MB
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quote:
ORIGINAL: Q-Ball
I apologize for posting this a day after Thanksgiving, but re-telling the story to my extended family yesterday (partly on ZOOM call, thanks Covid), I realized it was the 75th anniversary of Thanksgiving 1945. Many families in the US had alot to be thankful for with the war ended, but our family in particular, as my grandfather told this story, which I have asked my kids to hand down.
My grandfather was Cpt. (later Col.) Melvin Janssen, and he served in the 41st Division as an artilleryman. After graduation from ROTC at the University of Illinois, he was sent to Ft. Sill for advanced artillery training, then to the Pac NW for pilot training in an L-3 observation plane, or Piper Cub. The primary job of a L-3 pilot was spotting artillery, and the US Army felt they would rather have flying artillerymen than pilots who were trained to spot rounds. (It may also have been a jurisdictional thing, as gramps was a pilot, but NOT in the USAAF, just US Army). He had a couple brushes with death during the war during the New Guinea campaign, and spent 2 months in hospital at Zamboanga with hepatitis, but made it VJ Day unscathed. The 41st Division was sent to Kure on occupation duty, and gramps was assigned to the nearby island of Eta Jima, home of the Imperial Naval Academy.
Eta Jima as part of the naval academy had a cave complex full of naval munitions. Standard roles were no longer needed on occupation duty, so very often units were assigned things outside their normal job description; it was the job of his unit to safely dispose of these munitions. As artillerymen, they were trained on how to handle shells and explosives, and someone had to do it. The works was tedious and slow, and involved a few dozen men removing munitions one by one and safely de-activating them in conjunction with the engineers. Work started in early October 1945, and was proceeding apace, with safety of course paramount.
On Thanksgiving Day, 1945, his CO took a boat over to Kure to have dinner with a general, leaving Cpt. Janssen in charge. No work was scheduled for the day due to holiday, and a dinner was planned in the mess hall of turkey (shipped from the USA Frozen), as well as mountains of canned sides. Everyone was looking forward to a day off and half-decent food, and talking post-war plans when everyone got home.
At approx. 1230 hours my grandfather was shaving for the mid-day dinner, when all of the sudden a small explosion then a massive explosion rocked the island. All hands dropped what they were doing, including gramps, and rushed to the cave complex. It was quickly evident what had happened: The cave blew up! Once they picked through the debris it was also obvious that nobody was hurt. Had it been a normal workday, dozens would've been killed, including possibly my grandfather. After securing the area and phoning HQ to report, dinner was served, just 3 hours late.
The 41st Division was deactivated at the end of 1945, and gramps returned to the states in February of 1946. He saw his daughter for the first time, and was eternally grateful for Thanksgiving thereafter and the great fortune it visited upon him.
I hope my fellow Americans (and Canadians!) had a great Thanksgiving, and I hope it means as much to your family as it does to ours.
Great story! Thanks for sharing!
My father's close call was in 1944. His Corvette, Fennel, was one of several ships hunting U-744 on the second longest U-boat hunt for the war. They had already lost and re-acquired contact several times over about 30 hours, the sub staying submerged the whole time. They finally got a really solid contact with other ships triangulating and made a depth charge run, then another after that. As they were dropping charges, there was a tremendous explosion just behind the Fennel that lifted her stern about six feet and knocked everyone off their feet. The ship suffered screw damage and some leakage and the stern was slightly warped - she had to limp off and let other ships continue the attack, but was still there when the sub surfaced a few hours later - out of air and out of battery charge.
Fennel et al engaged with guns and kept the Germans from getting their deck gun in operation, then rescued survivors as the sub sank. They rescued the sub's Captain who revealed later that he had fired a gnat homing torpedo and was sure he sank one of the ships attacking him. This torpedo must have hit one of the depth charges Fennel was dropping, or possibly was set off just before it hit Fennel because of a depth charge explosion. My father was the CPO in charge of the aft depth charge crews, so if the torpedo had struck he would most certainly have been killed, and I would not be here. So for the quirk of fate that spared my father and his ship, I am thankful.
On the plus side for him and the crew, the ship (then near the Azores), were ordered to New York for repair of the warped stern and screw damage. NY in 1944 was as lively a town as they get, and it was quite an experience for a young man from the Canadian prairies! Much more welcoming to sailors than dour Halifax where the local populace resented the heavy navy presence, probably because of the drinking and bar fights - and the need to hide their pretty daughters! 
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No matter how bad a situation is, you can always make it worse. - Chris Hadfield : An Astronaut's Guide To Life On Earth
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Printable Version
Thanksgiving Day, 1945: Family Oral History - 
looking out for him that day.
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