Combat Marine, Girl Back Home Began Life’s Journey Together 70 Christmases Ago

NORTH CAPE MAY – “The unusual thing about combat is that your whole being is focused on staying alive and your mind cannot drift away to other things, including Christmas. You really only think about not dying, whether you are on the line or not.”
Those were the first words spoken to the Herald by a twice-wounded, World War II combat Marine as he described his attitude about Christmas in the South Pacific during the war. His attitude was similar to most others in his unit. Christmas was just another day, and to dwell on being overseas at Christmas would only distract him from his goal (of staying alive). Of course, no one succeeded completely at forgetting Christmas.
George Smith, 89 years young, has lived in North Cape May for 20 years since his retirement from the Philadelphia Police Department. He continued to serve the Cape May County community as a member and former flotilla commander in the U.S. Coast Guard Auxiliary.
Smith and his wife Doris have been married for 67 years; Doris also proudly served the Coast Guard Auxiliary as a staff officer. The Herald asked George and Doris to tell a little about their separate lives during the war years of the 1940s and to recount how Christmas was celebrated under the dark cloud of a world war on the “line,” and back home in Philadelphia.
George was born in 1925 and raised in the Fishtown section of Philadelphia, while Doris came from Kensington, only a few blocks north.
They both attended St. John Church and knew each other casually as children because George’s father knew Doris’ mother from their own childhoods. George and Doris both attended Sunday school throughout their childhood and early teens without so much as a single spark of interest between them. They were both at Sunday school Dec. 7, 1941 when the minister announced that Pearl Harbor had been attacked. Although neither teenager knew what or where Pearl Harbor was, the event would forever change their lives going forward nearly 70 years.
George was 16 when the South Pacific erupted in war for the U.S., but on his 17th birthday in late 1942, still in high school, George enlisted in the Marines mostly because others in his neighborhood were Marine Reservists.
After a shortened six weeks of basic training at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, George was assigned to a new Marine unit, the 1st Separate Battalion of the 4th Marine Division.
That was a new concept that created a self-contained rifle battalion that also included artillery, a tank and support aircraft. The unit was housed on old Navy destroyers to be able to land and fight with more flexibility and coordinated support.
Doris Craig is the daughter of a plumbing contractor who was well known in the neighborhood because he had a hard time charging people for his services when they were in need, or if the church’s heat went on the fritz.
Doris had a strong church connection and when the war broke out, the minister urged all the girls to write to local servicemen stationed in harm’s way.
“I was not real enthusiastic about writing these letters,” Doris recalled. “But I thought since everyone else was doing it, I can’t be the only one not writing, so I might as well do it too.”
Because her family knew George’s family, he was selected to be her serviceman. Doris explained that this became a “thing” that all the girls did and before she knew it, George was considered her “boyfriend,” even though they had never thought of it that way, and had never dated.
After another year in training as a machinegunner, George found himself on a landing craft (LST) making his way towards Roi-Namus, a twin island atoll in the Marshall Islands group in February 1944. Just as his LST was closing towards shore, the LST was almost swamped because a nearby battleship let loose a salvo that caused the battleship to leap sideways from the recoil. That created a huge wave of salt water that washed over their craft “and into my mouth,” George said.
He recalled that they had used chewing tobacco to hide the horrible odors and tastes from the dust and smells of the island. The sudden blast from the guns and violent motion of his landing craft caused him to swallow that tobacco; that’s when he switched to chewing gum.
Initially, there was little resistance on the beach, but as his machine gun squad trekked inland, a Japanese soldier was spotted lying in a ditch looking like a casualty. One of his fellow Marines stepped over him without incident, but as George followed suit, “This Japanese soldier who had played dead, leaped up with his bayonet and got me in the leg before someone in my squad nailed him in the head.”
They learned a difficult lesson about Japanese tactics that day, their first day in combat. During this time, Doris was at home in Philadelphia working at Copper’s Coke Co. completely unaware of George’s first combat experience that lasted all of one day before he suffered his first wound.
Doris was still writing George as her minister requested. She and all her friends were excited by the idea that they were connecting with the servicemen and they were sending pictures of themselves and sending cookies and anything else they could to their ‘boyfriends’ overseas, especially at Christmas.
During the Herald interview, both George and Doris discovered that none of the packages she sent to George ever got to him. Ironically, that was the first time either had spoken about these packages since the war.
George vividly recalled one particular photo Doris sent of herself in a two-piece bathing suit. George admitted, with a big smile, that this was when he considered Doris to be more than just a “letter writer” from back home.
Doris then revealed that she went to a professional photo studio that specialized in producing special photos for servicemen overseas. She added that they provided the bathing suit (she did not dare to have a two piece of her own), and applied make-up to the girls to ensure that the photos made a big impression. This was a common photo specialty during the war. Clearly the photo had the desired result over the next seven decades of their lives together.
After some rest in Hawaii, George and his unit found themselves steaming for the island of Saipan where he spent 15 days fighting the Japanese. While walking on the beach after the landing, he and his squad spotted a hibachi near the beach that was still smoking.
“Well, I guess we interrupted their lunch,” George commented. The next thing he knew he was crawling on his hands and knees towards a goat that was wandering around in the area. He recalls thinking that he was OK, but some other Marines came by and found him dazed and crawling on the beach and led him back to his unit. He never found out what happened but guessed it was an artillery shell that landed nearby.
About three days later, his machine gun squad was moved up to counter Japanese forces when twin 88 mm shells knocked him down again. Although still dazed, his team continued up to the line where they were promptly met by withering Japanese fire that took out his assistant-gunner and also wounded George in the hand. At this point, after the 88mm shells and the machine gun wound, George was moved to the rear. His combat days were over.
George described Christmas on the line as being dictated by the enemy. If they decided to attack, then so be it, but generally, the Marine officers would try to withdraw one battalion from the line so they could get some hot food, and replace them with another that had already eaten.
He gave credit to the leadership because they always tried to get them hot food of some type, even if turkey was not available. A lot of times he lived on D-rations for days on end. This ration was a large emergency energy chocolate bar used on the line for a quick energy boost. These were thick, hard and bitter. Meanwhile, Doris was baking cookies for George, cookies that never arrived from Philadelphia.
Doris was by now starting to warm to her Marine. Her girlfriends were actually envious that her boyfriend was a wounded hero, and so life at home continued on as they waited for their men to return from war.
Doris recalled her Christmases’ as a time when she and the other women were required to do the heavy work of getting the tree, placing it in the house and doing all the decorating because there were so few men around.
Their tree had antique ornaments and large electric bulbs that were very hot to the touch. Many people could have bought or made lots of sweets, cakes and other delicacies but many felt obligated to do with less even if they had enough stamps on their ration cards to get sugar and other rare ingredients.
George returned home after the war a little shaken, but happy to be in the old neighborhood and of course, close to Doris.
Doris and George married April 5, 1947 in St. John Church where they had both attended Sunday school years prior, and where they had been oblivious to each other as future mates.
After his police career ended in 1989, George and Doris moved to Lower Township. They have lived quietly in North Cape May for over 20 years, continuing to serve in the Coast Guard Auxiliary and their church as examples of a quickly disappearing generation who lived simply and served honorably through extremely trying times, while remaining true to their core values of faith in God, integrity, and service to country and community.
Today, Christmas for the Smiths is much different than it was in 1944. Health issues and Father Time has limited their ability to continue serving.
Now, 70 Christmases have come and gone since they began writing letters to each other during the war. Sons have grown to have their own children and grandchildren.
Wars and conflicts have come and gone over the decades, but their spirit of honest work, service to country and a humble confidence and faith in God’s guidance can be an example to all of us in this current time of war and global upheaval.
If we seek to find our personal path through our own life challenges today, we should look no further than the lives of George and Doris Smith.
To contact Jim McCarty, email jmccarty@cmcherald.com.