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Published Sunday, July 06, 2008 in Local

Photo by Alex McRae

Jesse Hayes

Jesse Hayes served with Bushmasters in Pacific

By Alex McRae

The Times-Herald

World War II had started seven months earlier, but Jesse Hayes' mind wasn't on fighting. He was in love and couldn't wait to marry Mildred Stephens. In June 1942, the couple were wed and the next fall Jesse started his senior year at Butler County High School in Greenville, Ala.

He graduated in the spring of 1943 and went back to working the family farm. His marital status and farm occupation earned him a deferment for over a year, but Hayes was finally drafted. He was inducted on Oct. 24, 1944, his 20th birthday.

As soon as he received his draft notice, Jesse and Mildred decided to have a child. They also decided that if it was a boy, he would be named Jesse Calvin Hayes Jr. after his father.

"That way if something happened to me, we thought it would be a way for him to remember me," Hayes says. "I'm glad he didn't have to."

When Hayes left for the Army, Mildred was expecting and Hayes wondered if he would ever see his unborn child. Not too much later he had other things on his mind... like staying alive.

"The whole time I was in the Pacific I wanted to see that baby," he says. "But some days I wasn't sure if I ever would."

Hayes' grew up on the family farm in Forest Home, Ala. As a boy, he was a magician with a mule and a plow and even mastered the two-horse combine that came along later.

When he left high school as a married man, Hayes hoped to farm a while, but he knew the draft was his most likely option.

"Everybody was going off," he says. "I wasn't trying to dodge the service, I just loved my wife and wanted to stay with her. But when I got called I went."

Hayes did his basic training at Camp Blanding, Fla., then it was off to Fort Ord, Calif., for advanced infantry training. When he went to San Francisco to ship out for the war in the Pacific, Hayes was fascinated by the huge ship he was about to board, watching as long as he could while tons of equipment and supplies were lifted in an out of the ship's massive hold.

"I'd never seen a big ship or a big operation like that and it was really a sight," he says.

Seasickness was a common problem for soldiers headed overseas on troop ships. Someone told Hayes peppermint candy would help and he left the docks with his pockets full. When the ship glided calmly across San Francisco Bay Hayes thought the problem was overrated. As soon as the ship cleared the Golden Gate and started wallowing in the open ocean, he learned better and started popping candy as fast as he could. It didn't help.

"That trip took 30 days and I was sick every one of them," he says. "I didn't think we'd ever stop."

The ship finally docked in New Guinea, but didn't stay long. The fighting in New Guinea had ended by then and Hayes traveled on to Manila, the Philippines. He reported to the Army replacement depot to wait for his next assignment.

While there, he learned his son had been born on April 15, 1945, the day President Franklin Roosevelt died.

"I was at sea when he came along," Hayes says. "I thought it sure would be nice to see him, but where I was I wasn't sure what was going to happen."

After a few weeks in Manila, Hayes packed up and headed to south Luzon island to join the 158th Regimental Combat Team, better known as the Bushmasters. By then, the Bushmasters were a beat up bunch just struggling just to survive.

After fighting their way past fierce enemy resistance in New Guinea and New Britain, the Bushmasters had landed at Lingayen Gulf in the Philippines. For their actions in the weeks that followed, the unit received a Presidential Citation for -- among other things -- taking out a 14-inch gun that was tearing up Allied troops as they came ashore on the Philippines.

Then, on April 1, 1945, the same day the battle of Okinawa began, the already exhausted Bushmasters led the invasion of south Luzon's Bicol Peninsula.

The unit made an amphibious landing at Legaspi Port, established a base and began a 500-mile march south against heavy enemy resistance.

During the battle, the Bushmasters' casualties included 226 killed, 1,046 wounded and 20 missing. Replacements were needed.

When Hayes arrived at his new unit he was told that in an earlier battle an artillery shell had taken out half a company. He would be replacing one of the fallen soldiers.

"It was hard coming in like that with all those men who had been together such a long time," Hayes says. "They treated me fine, though, and I just did what they told me and it was all right."

The Bushmasters didn't waste any time putting Hayes to work. His company was about to head up a nearby mountain and flush out a suspected enemy stronghold. They were trucked halfway up the hill, set up camp and headed out.

Company veterans gave Hayes the "honor" of taking the point," leading the group up the hill toward the enemy. They also took his rifle and handed him a Thompson submachine gun.

It didn't take Hayes long to realize that a month of seasickness and weeks of idleness at the replacement depot hadn't prepared him physically for the rugged climb into the hills.

"I was out of shape and my legs started hurting and I was worried too," Hayes says. "I started saying the Bible verse about the Lord is my shepherd and the valley of the shadow of death."

Only hours into the mission, Hayes' commander whispered "Freeze" and the unit came to a halt and crouched in the dense jungle.

Below, they could see dozens of green helmets passing single file on a trail back down the mountain. Hayes' company couldn't tell if they were friend or foe and tension was high.

They finally realized the soldiers were Americans.

"That was a close one," Hayes says. "If some of our men had itchy trigger fingers there would have been trouble."

The first night on the trail American artillery roared overhead constantly, pounding the Japanese position at the top of the hill. Hayes quickly learned how to judge a shell's destination by the sound it made.

"Every time they fired there was a big Boom! And then you could hear the shell headed for the target and a big bang when it hit," Hayes says. "After a while you could tell from the sound how close the shells were going to land."

When the unit reached the objective, resistance was unexpectedly light. Only two Japanese soldiers were left and ready to fight. One was killed, the other wounded. Americans buried the dead soldier and took the other down the hill to be interrogated.

The battle for Luzon ended days later and Hayes' unit went to a rest area. They didn't rest for long before training began for the planned invasion of Japan.

The Bushmasters wouldn't learn until later that General Douglas MacArthur had chosen the unit to spearhead the invasion. Under plans released after the war it was revealed that the Bushmasters were scheduled to land on Japan two days ahead of the invasion forces and take out the Japanese air warning system at Kyushu.

During a break in the training, an outdoor movie was interrupted with an announcement that the Japanese had surrendered.

"We didn't sleep that night," Hayes says. "It was quite a celebration. Not just because the fighting was over, but because everybody was ready to go home. I sure was. I wanted to see my son."

A month after the formal surrender Hayes' unit went to Japan for occupation duty. Not long after he moved into an abandoned Japanese military barracks, Hayes was astonished when the ground starting rolling beneath his feet. It was his first -- and only -- earthquake.

"I thought for a while the ground was going to split open but it never did," he says. "I was sure glad when it was over."

Hayes' first assignment was guarding a small warehouse in a community just outside Yokohama. It was a two-man job and arrangements were made for Hayes and his fellow soldier to stay in a private Japanese home near the warehouse. The war was over, but tension was high and the soldiers were warned not to accept any food or drink from the Japanese.

"You didn't know who you could trust those days," Hayes says.

One bitterly cold night, Hayes and his companion were awakened by a suspicious noise. They thought they heard someone moving about and suspected they were in danger.

Then they realized the intruder was their Japanese hostess, who had slipped in to cover them with extra blankets.

"We appreciated it," Hayes says. "I know some people had some trouble, but the whole time I was there the Japanese people I met were as nice as they could be."

While in Japan, Hayes did time on "boat and shore" duty, driving vehicles off landing craft and parking them in a huge motor pool area.

He was discharged in October 1946. Mildred and the baby were living in Montgomery and Hayes rushed home. He was overjoyed when he saw his son for the first time. But the little boy had second thoughts.

"I tried to get him to come to me, but he wouldn't because he didn't know me," Hayes says. "Then I opened up my billfold and he came right over. He figured that one right out."

Not long after he got home, Hayes started a career in the dairy business that lasted until the retired in 2000. Hayes moved to Coweta not long afterward to be closer to children and grandchildren. Mildred passed away in 2006.

"I wasn't in the Army as long as a lot of people," Hayes says. "But I saw some things and did some things that had to be done. We all just did our jobs and it turned out all right for me. I was sure glad to get back home, though."