Surprises come in all shapes and sizes, I want to share a story about my uncle, Johnny Burke. Johnny owned Fountain Korner Drug with his two brothers, Hern Burke and my dad, Joe Burke. As I was growing up, I knew that all three men had served during World War II, but war stories weren’t often shared around the tables at the Fountain. So, I knew little of their service to our country. I did know that dad had suffered frost bite, his toenails grew so thick because of it and mom had industrial sized toenail clippers for them. He would yell and scream in mock horror when she approached him with them. And I knew that Hern had spent time in Germany where he learned the art of photography. Hern’s story affected me personally and I believe sent me on my journey to learn the craft. But Johnny’s story was a bit unknown to me until one day when we learned that Johnny had received a package in the mail from a stranger in Arkansas. It’s quite a tale.
I talked to Johnny about his experiences in World War II recently and he was very open to discuss his sharp memories of that time in his life. “I joined up here in Floyd County and went to Los Angeles to camp at Santa Anita Racetrack. They had put beds in the stalls and that’s where we stayed at while waiting to ship out. The man in the stall next to me ended up in the same unit in Germany with your dad, Joe. After we left Los Angeles, we shipped out from Washington state and ended up in Japan, as far as you can go.”
During Johnny’s tour of duty, he sustained a serious injury. “Three of us were in a foxhole during the battle for Morotai. We were high in the mountains of Morotai Indonesia, on Mount Sabatai, heading toward the capital city. There was a black topped road but it was mined, so we had to go through the timber and that’s where I got blown up in a foxhole. I laid there all night until daylight. They shot at anything that moved, so you didn’t dare leave your foxhole. I had 30 or so pieces of shrapnel in my back and leg, some are still there today. Help came for me at daylight and the natives made a stretcher out of a blanket and 2 poles and carried me to a Jeep. The Jeep could only make it up so far to us because the timber was so thick. Then they tied me down on top of the Jeep and took me to an ambulance, then to a field hospital, and then to a full size hospital near the beach. Then they loaded me on a hospital ship and flew me on an airplane and I went back to New Guinea for treatment there. I stayed there 2 or 3 months and then I had to go back and fight again. That was the hardest part. We were getting ready to invade Japan when they surrendered.”
When Johnny had recovered he went back to his company on the island of Morotai. Japan had captured the tiny island of about 9,000 inhabitants in 1942 and Allied Forces began the Battle for Morotai in September 1944 and it continued till the end of hostilities in August 1945. One of the most remote places on the planet, a Japanese soldier was found there in 1974 still believing that the war was on going. One of the company’s missions was to destroy all the Japanese equipment that had been left on Morotai. One day when his company was moving through a tiny village, they saw a Japanese battle flag. “It was hanging on a fence post in someone’s yard, they’d junked it”, Johnny explained. Someone from Johnny’s company “captured the flag” and wrote the names of the members of the 130th Infantry around the large red circle in the center of the flag. The history of the flag halted there for 60 years. Then one day a few years ago Johnny received a phone call from a gentlemen in Arkansas. He explained that he had found a Japanese battle flag in a thrift store. He had purchased it and had taken it home and researched the names on the flag. Johnny said, “He had called all the names on the flag and I was the only one he could find. He wanted to know if I would like to have it and I said I sure would.” Several weeks later a large package arrived at Johnny’s home. “The relic hunter had taken the flag and had it framed for me and shipped it to me. How it got to America is a mystery.”
A piece of cloth from 70 years ago in a foreign land, formed into a flag of battle, discarded in defeat, ends up right here in Prestonsburg Kentucky. Uncle Johnny now proudly displays the flag in his home. It is a memento from his duty in the Pacific Theater of World War II. Our heroes of World War II are treasures that are slowly disappearing and their stories should be told for future generations. I’m glad I got to listen to Uncle Johnny share his memories, I enjoy his sweet, gentle nature and his great memory. Take time to learn from the elders in your families, listen to their stories and cherish their council. If you know a veteran who has an interesting story and would be willing to share, contact me.
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