CC remembers the “The Hero of Bataan”

My trip to Houston was a choice assignment. Following the end of WWII, our government passed a law to rebury those who died overseas during the war with Japan if the next of kin requested the reburial.

The Marine Corps put out an important bulletin addressed to all commanders. Frankly put, the letter said to send the best Marines for assignment to accompany the dead Marines. My commander, LtCol. L. B. Cresswell, selected me and wrote a glowing letter of commendation. I was honored.

Practically by return mail, I received notice to leave China and embark for Camp Pendleton to join a group who would train as escorts of the dead. There were others there who had been selected as the best of best. The lowest ranking was Sergeant who would accompany all dead of lesser rank. Others, of higher ranking, were selected to accompany higher-striped dead.

After assembling and training, we were detailed to Corpus Christi which would be our home base. The boy’s bodies would be brought to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio. When a Marine’s coffin came in for burial, our home base was duly notified and an escort scheduled to appear at the collection place in San Antonio.

My first assignment was to deliver a boy’s body from Houston. And I was prepared – because the Corps detailed our duties in every way. No preparation was more thorough. All of us became experts in public manners, funeral details, flag expertise and burials honors for the dead Marine Corps hero and his family.

Training was tough and exasperating, but an honor. There was a bright side too – the Corps spared no expense. Those of who served as “honored escorts and guards” were instructed to spend freely while on assignment. Stay at the finest hotel in town – (The Rice Hotel in Houston) eat at the finest restaurant, take a cab when going back and forth and, yes –  have  shoes shined at the hotel shine stand.

There was a little trouble, however, on my first assignment. Houston had scheduled a big parade honoring the return of the first group of returning heroes. Trouble was, a Marine was not among ‘em and the mother of the Marine whose body was sitting in the San Antonio warehouse was mad as hell.

She pulled some strings and I was ordered post haste to get the coffin on a train and head for Houston. There, things went off without a hitch. The parade was held honoring the four bodies which were then placed in the new City Hall and thousands came to view. The Marines were well represented. Later, the burial was held and, during the week I was there, the family was very kind and gracious to me.

I had just returned to the barracks in San Antonio, when I heard an orderly yelling out, “Sergeant Russell, General Wainwight [Jonathan Mayhew “Skinny” Wainwright IV  was a career American army officer and the commander of Allied forces in the Philippines at the time of their surrender to the Empire of Japan during World War II. Wainwright is a recipient of the Medal of Honor.] is sending his car to pick you up.”

Sergeant Russell! Me? Are you kidding? Why would the Base Commander want to see me? Oh boy, I am in big trouble “Hurry up, he’s waiting”. And sure enough, I ran outside and just as I did, the General’s chauffer pulled up with the little red flag on each fender. “Russell, the General’s waiting. Let’s go.”

Well, just think about it – here’s a lowly Marine Corps Sergeant being escorted to see the General and Base Commander.  I was rushed immediately to the General’s office.

He was sitting at his desk staring into the sun outside.

“Sir, Marine Corps Sergeant Thomas F. Russell, Jr. reporting as ordered.”

“At ease.” He had a particularly imposing manner. I was disarmed by the tenderness yet toughness of his ways.

 “Sergeant, Mrs. G—– called me this morning from Houston. She had lost her son in Hawaii but the week you spent with her and the family sort of brought him back. I think she kind of thought you knew him. She asked me if I could send you back to stay with her for another week. I hope you don’t mind. We can’t do enough for those that died in the war. I was there. I tried to help. Now, I want to do all I can. Would you mind going back another week?

“I’ll clear it with the Corps. My chauffeur will help you get packed and take you to the train. Can you do that right away?”

It was more of a request than an order and I swear I saw a little tear fall from eyes of the Hero of Bataan.