Barrington Veteran Recalls War With Humor

Barrington resident Frank Perhats was drafted in March of 1944.  “I received greetings from President Roosevelt, which is what everybody joked about.  I’d been chosen to serve in the U.S. services for World War II.”

The 18-year-old entered basic training for the Cavalry in Fort Riley Kansas.  “After I got through with 16 weeks of basic training--infantry got 12 weeks and Cavalry, which had a lot more skills to learn had 16-- I went home on leave before returning to school.”

He was eventually assigned to work as a mechanic on light tanks, which took another three months of training.  Perhats was then afforded a small reprieve as the Army decided where best to send him  He happily recalled living in Washington, D.C., describing the historic nature of the city  “I was there when Roosevelt died,” he said.

By May, Perhats was transferred to the west coast, which was the beginning of a series of events and mishaps that he recalled with good natured humor.  “We got on a troop train which had no air conditioning in July.  We traveled for one solid week.  There was soot and smoke coming in, no place to bathe, no place to sleep except your seat,” he said, smiling at the memory.

Upon arrival in California, Perhats and his fellow travelers were given a free day to unwind, which they gladly utilized.  “We got on a bunch of 6x6s and went up into the mountains.  We all went up there, laid down, took our shirts, off fell asleep.”

Perhats had a rude awakening, finding himself with a tremendous sun burn which left him with peeling blisters over his upper torso.  “There was no sunblock in those days,” he said laughing.

Next day he  received two immunity shots in his blistered arm and a dental report which left him sitting in a chair with a dentist filling eight teeth.  The dentist  leaned against the tortured  soldier  as he worked and wiped his instruments on the bib across his chest.  “It was the worst torture I ever had in my life,” he said, without irony.

Once aboard the ship headed to the Philippines,  Perhats made the discovery that he was violently sea sick.  Propellor problems extended the voyage  from 10 days to four weeks, before making stops at the Marion and Carolina Islands before their destination of the Laitay Islands.

“We were lucky because Bob Crosby was on board with his orchestra,” Perhats recalled, pointing out that Bob was Bing’s brother.  “So we had a concert every night.”  

Their luck seemed to run out as hundreds of soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder waiting for that evening’s entertainment.  A wailing alarm signaled the approach of a phantom submarine.  The sailors were ordered to their positions on deck.  “You couldn’t move.  Everyone was stuck together,” Perhats recalled, clearly relishing the story.  “We picked the sailors up and passed them, over our heads, to their battle stations.”

The attack didn’t materialize, but another ship, the Independence was torpedoed with the largest loss of life in any one ship in the U.S. Navy.  “There were about 2,400 sailors were lost,” Perhats said.

After a few more stops, they joined the 77th 307th Infantry Regimen where they prepared to invade Japan.  Their preparation was moot after the U.S. leveled the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki with atom bombs.  Perhats and the rest of the regimen were confused.  “We all talked about, what’s an atomic bomb?  We wondered if this would be the end of World War II.”

Despite the defining blow, the soldiers headed toward Japan as part of a 27 ship convoy to launch a second wave attack on the islands.  “Unfortunately we hit the tail end of a typhoon,” Perhats said. The mission was now to become a second wave of military force to enter Japan.

Perhat’s ruefully accounted the effect of the violent storm on the men in the ship.  “The sea’s were so heavy, that men were laying all over the floor, water splashing over them and they were just laying in it.”  A team welded the ship together as it broke apart.

Once, gratefully off the ship in Japan, the soldiers were met with empty villages.  “We found out that the Japanese told all the women and children that the Americans would land and they would rape and pillage,” Perhats said, shrugging. When the villagers discovered that the opposite was true they began to return to receive the food and supplies offered by the troops.

Perhats clearly enjoyed his memories and lit up as he recalled them.  Even his close encounter with a sniper’s bullet on a beach caused a smile and a chuckle. “I hear zing as a bullet went right by my right ear.  I could feel the air moving right by my head.  I heard the bang.  You always hear the bang.  You hear the bullet go by if it doesn’t hit you,” he said laughing.  “You never here the bang if it doesn’t hit you.”

It seemed at this point that Perhats had not seen any combative action, but he simply didn’t seem to have interest in recalling the experience.  When pressed, he finally mentions his time fighting in the jungle as part of a “mop up operation,” but quickly leaves the subject behind to talk about the night club he built for servicemen before coming home and the joys of anchoring in Seattle. “I had a steak, potatoes, some good vegetables, and of course, some apple pie.  We enjoyed it.”

He seemed to have nothing more to say about the experience questioned about his happiest memory from that time.  All humor dropped from his features and were replaced by wistful sorrow. “I met a young lady in Washington that I spent a lot of time with.  When I left there...” He paused and sighed.  “I didn’t want to mess around with leaving a widow behind or someone who was hoping I’d come back, so we stopped all communication and I never communicated with her again.”  He closed his eyes again and lapsed into silence.

When asked if he remembered her name, he admitted, almost regretfully he did, but he wouldn’t be sharing that memory today.