OKINAWA JAPAN

Suddenly the wheels unlocked with a rumble, our plane banked, engines thundered, and in we went, splattering mud, scaring horses, and skidding to a stop. The Yon tan Airfield on that blustery April morning gave truth to all the dire stories I had heard of Okinawa.

Now, months later, most of us are wondering where such dismal reports originated. We are inclined to believe that it was from the J&p himself. We feel that Okinawa is the most scenic island with the finest climate of any the United States has taken 'in the Pacific war.

Okinawa is not a big place; it is only 7.0 miles long and averages about 7 miles wide. If placed on a map of Florida, it would cover little more than the stretch of sand between Palm Beach and Miami. It has approximately the same north latitude as those two resort cities. The East China Sea, which sprawls between us and Shanghai, vibrates with the same incredible blue as the Gulf Stream.

However, there is one tremendous geographic difference. Were we to fly about 400 miles north, instead of visiting Charleston, South Carolina, we would be in Nagasaki, Japan.

As a base for the knockout of Japan, Okinawa was of high value. Fighter planes and bombers from our many fields could strike in three directions. Bypassed Formosa lay paralyzed only two air hours to the southwest. Four hundred miles separated us from the J&p-occupied mainland of Asia. Up north loomed Kyushu, one of the heavily fortified and industrialized Japanese home islands.

Okinawa reminds nearly every man of some spot close to his heart at home. Whether from Maine, California, Tennessee, or Virginia, he finds sections which look familiar to him. Eventually, my bet is that Okinawa will remain one of our mightiest Far East bases and become a vacationland.

Flying with Marine artillery control planes behind J&p lines, I had many opportunities to look over the southern end of the island where the J&ps were making their final fanatical stand. Except around flattened Naha and the front itself, ripped by mortar artillery, naval shelling and bombing, this densely populated section remained practically unmarred.

Farms were small, not more than an acre in area. We flew over a vast patchwork quilt of yellows, greens, and browns. Square patches in the pattern were the fields where rice, wheat, and vegetables grow; the background was the rich red soil of Okinawa, and the fringe the unbelievable blue of the East China Sea.

Each tiny farm looked freshly raked and immaculate, yet not a soul was to be seen. It was the same over the farms of J&p-held Bougainville, New Ireland, and New Britain. Crops seemed to sprout, grow, and be harvested by magic. Just how the Japs concealed themselves from aerial observation while farming was one of the mysteries of the war.

North of Naha the picture changed completely. Americans were everywhere, except for the Katsuren Hanto (peninsula) and a few refugee centers for Okinawans. The northern part of the island teamed with Marines, Seabees, soldiers, and hundreds of thousands of tons of equipment.

Bulldozers, steam shovels, scrapers, and other equipment were lifting the face of Okinawa, scratching airfields across its surface. Seabees and Army engineers were blasting and bulldozing four-lane highways the length and breadth of the island.

Not a day went by but there was some drastic alteration in the countryside. Frequently Marines returning from the front lines got lost in places where they had known every hut, lane, and tree.

My favorite spot on Okinawa is Hedo Zaki (cape), the northern tip of the island. Penny- sized fields of wheat creep right out onto the cliffs that knife up from the sea. Scrub palms border each garden.

The heart of Hedo Zaki is a jagged, heavily timbered, cloud-capped pinnacle-formidable, but beautiful as a lonely pagan land.

Here is where I'd like to build a home after the war. Perched on the crest, its windows would open over the Pacific on one side and face the evening sun sinking into the East China Sea on the other. Of all the places I have seen, Hedo Zaki is the most romantic…"