Decades after they starved, beat and tortured the boy – caging him in a slatted wooden box the size of a coffin – an underage World War II veteran refused to speak about his former enemies with hatred. His story holds lessons about reconciliation for a nation battered by today’s culture wars.
Joseph Johnson was only 14 when he enlisted in the U.S. Army, a year before Pearl Harbor. He’d fled a difficult home life in Memphis, fibbed about his age to a recruiter, and managed to get lost in the shuffle. He was sent to Manila with the 31st Infantry Division, having no clue of the impending horror.
On Dec. 7, 1941, 10 hours after attacking Hawaii, Japan hit the Philippines. The largely under prepared U.S. and Filipino troops were plunged into battle. The boy fought bravely, loading machine guns and ferrying messages between headquarters and front lines. Once, to escape a sniper’s attack, he leaped into an empty foxhole, only to land on an enemy soldier crouching in the dirt. The boy fought for his life, subduing his opponent with his bare hands.
Joe had met an orphaned teenage girl back at a brothel in Manila, and they became unlikely friends who helped each other endure. When she’d become pregnant from her unfortunate job, Joe helped her seek sanctuary in a church. He paid the nuns for the girl’s room and board.
LAST REMAINING WORLD WAR II MEDAL OF HONOR RECIPIENT TO LIE IN HONOR AT US CAPITOL
The memory of her friendship helped sustain the boy in the fight on Corregidor, where Joe and his fellow soldiers made their last stand. The allied troops were outgunned and outmanned, plagued with tropical diseases, and cut off from resupply. As their foodstuffs slowly diminished, they ate monkeys found in the jungle.
Finally, in May 1942, Gen. Jonathan Wainwright formally surrendered all allied troops in the Philippines. Joe laid down his arms and became a prisoner of war. He was 16.
At the brutal Nichols Field detail, Joe and fellow POWs were forced to extend an airstrip. It was backbreaking work with a pick and shovel in the broiling sun.
Joe suffered from a raft of tropical diseases, including pellagra, dry beriberi, scurvy and malaria. After being savagely beaten for a small rule infraction, Joe knew he wouldn’t survive Nichols Field. Feigning insanity, he sliced his arms with a sharpened spoon and smeared blood on his face, hoping the guards would send him to Bilibid Prison, where a few American doctors still practiced.
That’s when he spent a week locked in a cage. Naked, bloodied, prodded through the slats by his captors, the boy was given no food or drink. Rainwater kept him alive. Finally, he was tossed on the back of a truck and driven to Bilibid, where he slowly regained his health. His audacious plan had worked.
But his horrors weren’t over. In October 1944, Joe and 1,600 POWs were loaded onto a ship to work in Japan’s mines. By the time they reached port six weeks later, only 450 POWs were still alive. Suffering malnutrition and a grisly leg injury, Joe was held at the Fukuoka POW camp until Japan’s surrender in August 1945. At last, he came home to freedom. Joe was 19 years old and had grown to 6 feet, 4 inches. He weighed only 109 pounds.
Post-war, Joe struggled with severe PTSD. Counseling, family and faith helped. He learned the wisdom of forgiveness, as recorded in his journal: "Life is too short to hold on to hurt. Whether you’re hurt from being abused as a POW or from your daddy leaving when you were young, you got to set that hurt down. You’ll only hurt yourself when you harbor hate."
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In his senior years, Joe became active in veteran causes, using his scars to help people heal. He became a rebuilder of lives, a restorer of spirits. Whenever he spoke about the past, he never used the derogatory word for his former captors, always speaking about them with respect.
For America today, embroiled in culture wars and divided by hostilities, a nod to Joe Johnson may well be part of the solution to rebuilding the country. Each person holds an individual responsibility to promote peace. More understanding is the answer, more finding common ground, more forgiveness.
Less hate.
