Kelley Totems
There is a book entitled On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman. Our military now understands that we, as a species, are hard-wired not to kill each other. And if you kill another person at close range so that you see/hear/smell their suffering, most of us will have lasting negative emotions tied to our indelible memory of the act. Most killers experience flashbacks of fear, guilt, self-loathing and horror for the rest of their days. Guys that firebomb entire cities can sleep like babies. But, guys who kill up close can’t. Such emotions are now referred to as a form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
I’m guessing it was the summer of 1965. My Dad, Neil A. Kelley, was sitting on his big chair watching a baseball game on TV. His teeth were clinched as he stared at the screen. For no good reason, I popped an impertinent question, “Dad… How many Japs did you kill?”. He didn’t look at me. He just said flatly, “Eight.”
After much reading and talking to two WWII Marine Raider 2nd Battalion veterans that fought in the same battles on Bougainville, Guam and Okinawa where Neil’s Company F was deployed, I have concluded that he was only referring to the eight he knew about. Having been attached to a Mortar Squad in a Weapons Platoon, he must of killed plenty of guys that he never saw. But, on Bougainville and Guam he had to get down and dirty. On Bougainville in Nov 1943, he fought in the Battle of Piva Forks through dense swampy jungle where every company took its turn at the front. On Guam in July 1944, they had to dig in on the beach the first night because they were pinned down and landed up against a cliff. The Japanese staged a bonsai charge that night and hundreds of them had to be slain at close range.
While we were growing up, Neil exhibited many of the symptoms of PTSD sufferers: emotionally and socially withdrawn, sudden bursts of anger and had trouble falling asleep. On many occasions, I stayed up late doing homework and saw him lying in bed reading political magazines. I could see eyestrain tears on the side of his face. PTSD sufferers try to avoid being reminded of their trauma. He only discussed two of his war experiences with his wife during 20 years of marriage. Here are the only two experiences that Grandma Kelley can recall:
1.Neil said that one of his buddies was captured by the Japanese and that he wanted to rescue him. But, his commanding officer told him to stay put. Neil had to listen to his buddy screaming as the Japs tortured their prisoner. David Hamm, a veteran of F Company on Bougainville told me that after a skirmish on the Piva Trail, a Marine was found with his genitals stuffed in his own mouth. Perhaps this was the guy that Neil wanted to rescue.
(I’m guessing that this happened on Bougainville where the dense undergrowth would explain their proximity to the enemy.)
2.He was with Carol Peake(sp?) on Okinawa when he was wounded by shrapnel on 22 May 1945 as a member of the 4th Marines Regimental Weapons Company. Right after his back was laid open his stood up and declared to his buddies, “I got mine!” in reference to his million-dollar wound.
In the early sixties, he visited his sister, Dorothy Watts, in Redondo Beach. Herb, Dorothy’s son, recounted these experiences that Neil told him:
•One day they were on patrol and a Jap jumped out and threatened a BAR man with a bayonet. A Browning Automatic Rifle is a big powerful weapon. The BAR man was so startled that he started to fire at the ground between them. The recoil of the BAR was so strong that the rifle barrel was automatically elevated and the bullets, Neil’s own words, “zippered the guy”.
•Neil explained that you could tell whether the shells were coming or going by their sound. Most guys wouldn’t duck for shells coming from behind because the shrapnel usually travelled forward after the explosion. Neil always ducked regardless. One time, the shrapnel from one of our short rounds did blow backwards and a Marine nearby did not duck and was killed. Neil said, “That made a believer out of me.”
Herb also relayed a story his mother, Neil’s sister, told him:
•Neil was climbing down the netting on the side of an LST into a landing craft. A guy stepped on Neil’s head or shoulder on the way down. He was knocked off the netting into the landing craft below onto his back. The resulting injury caused him back pain for the rest of his days.
Tom Morres, a veteran of Bougainville in Neil’s Company, wrote in his memoire that the seas were rough that morning: “We got to the debarking stations about 5:30am and were climbing down the nets by 6:00am. Each ramp boat held a platoon of troops and as they became loaded they would pull away and stand by until all the first wave troops had been loaded. It was kind of tricky getting from the cargo net to the ramp boat because the wave action would raise and lower the boat as much as five to ten feet so that when you were at the bottom of the net you had to time it just right so that you would only drop three or four feet instead of ten feet and maybe bang yourself up a bit.”
Neil took his own life on Saturday, 2 Dec 1967, with a combination of booze and the barbiturates he had been taking for back pain. During the Summer of Love, he had been reading “How to Avoid Probate”. If you are contemplating suicide and don’t want to leave a legal mess, this is a must read. When he failed to come home from work, my mother became increasingly concerned. But, she only showed it once that I noticed. After she put us to bed one evening, I overheard her whispering anxiously into the telephone about his absence until she broke down sobbing. A few days later, the County Coroner arrived at our door to tell us that they had found his body at the Kokomo Motel.
Looking back, I have the impression that Neil wanted to return to the South Pacific, probably New Caledonia. Growing up in Michigan, we had water colors of tropical islands hanging in our living room. He used to shout the chorus to song recorded in 1945 called: “Caledonia! Caledonia!”. After we moved to Sacramento, he ordered me plant six palm trees in our front yard in two groups of three for stability. Coincidentally, there were three girls and three guys in our family. Today, those palm trees are over 80 feet tall.
Kelley Totems
There is a book entitled On Killing: The Psychological Cost of Learning to Kill in War and Society by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman. Our military now understands that we, as a species, are hard-wired not to kill each other. And if you kill another person at close range so that you see/hear/smell their suffering, most of us will have lasting negative emotions tied to our indelible memory of the act. Most killers experience flashbacks of fear, guilt, self-loathing and horror for the rest of their days. Guys that firebomb entire cities can sleep like babies. But, guys who kill up close can’t. Such emotions are now referred to as a form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
I’m guessing it was the summer of 1965. My Dad, Neil A. Kelley, was sitting on his big chair watching a baseball game on TV. His teeth were clinched as he stared at the screen. For no good reason, I popped an impertinent question, “Dad… How many Japs did you kill?”. He didn’t look at me. He just said flatly, “Eight.”
After much reading and talking to two WWII Marine Raider 2nd Battalion veterans that fought in the same battles on Bougainville, Guam and Okinawa where Neil’s Company F was deployed, I have concluded that he was only referring to the eight he knew about. Having been attached to a Mortar Squad in a Weapons Platoon, he must of killed plenty of guys that he never saw. But, on Bougainville and Guam he had to get down and dirty. On Bougainville in Nov 1943, he fought in the Battle of Piva Forks through dense swampy jungle where every company took its turn at the front. On Guam in July 1944, they had to dig in on the beach the first night because they were pinned down and landed up against a cliff. The Japanese staged a bonsai charge that night and hundreds of them had to be slain at close range.
While we were growing up, Neil exhibited many of the symptoms of PTSD sufferers: emotionally and socially withdrawn, sudden bursts of anger and had trouble falling asleep. On many occasions, I stayed up late doing homework and saw him lying in bed reading political magazines. I could see eyestrain tears on the side of his face. PTSD sufferers try to avoid being reminded of their trauma. He only discussed two of his war experiences with his wife during 20 years of marriage. Here are the only two experiences that Grandma Kelley can recall:
1.Neil said that one of his buddies was captured by the Japanese and that he wanted to rescue him. But, his commanding officer told him to stay put. Neil had to listen to his buddy screaming as the Japs tortured their prisoner. David Hamm, a veteran of F Company on Bougainville told me that after a skirmish on the Piva Trail, a Marine was found with his genitals stuffed in his own mouth. Perhaps this was the guy that Neil wanted to rescue.
(I’m guessing that this happened on Bougainville where the dense undergrowth would explain their proximity to the enemy.)
2.He was with Carol Peake(sp?) on Okinawa when he was wounded by shrapnel on 22 May 1945 as a member of the 4th Marines Regimental Weapons Company. Right after his back was laid open his stood up and declared to his buddies, “I got mine!” in reference to his million-dollar wound.
In the early sixties, he visited his sister, Dorothy Watts, in Redondo Beach. Herb, Dorothy’s son, recounted these experiences that Neil told him:
•One day they were on patrol and a Jap jumped out and threatened a BAR man with a bayonet. A Browning Automatic Rifle is a big powerful weapon. The BAR man was so startled that he started to fire at the ground between them. The recoil of the BAR was so strong that the rifle barrel was automatically elevated and the bullets, Neil’s own words, “zippered the guy”.
•Neil explained that you could tell whether the shells were coming or going by their sound. Most guys wouldn’t duck for shells coming from behind because the shrapnel usually travelled forward after the explosion. Neil always ducked regardless. One time, the shrapnel from one of our short rounds did blow backwards and a Marine nearby did not duck and was killed. Neil said, “That made a believer out of me.”
Herb also relayed a story his mother, Neil’s sister, told him:
•Neil was climbing down the netting on the side of an LST into a landing craft. A guy stepped on Neil’s head or shoulder on the way down. He was knocked off the netting into the landing craft below onto his back. The resulting injury caused him back pain for the rest of his days.
Tom Morres, a veteran of Bougainville in Neil’s Company, wrote in his memoire that the seas were rough that morning: “We got to the debarking stations about 5:30am and were climbing down the nets by 6:00am. Each ramp boat held a platoon of troops and as they became loaded they would pull away and stand by until all the first wave troops had been loaded. It was kind of tricky getting from the cargo net to the ramp boat because the wave action would raise and lower the boat as much as five to ten feet so that when you were at the bottom of the net you had to time it just right so that you would only drop three or four feet instead of ten feet and maybe bang yourself up a bit.”
Neil took his own life on Saturday, 2 Dec 1967, with a combination of booze and the barbiturates he had been taking for back pain. During the Summer of Love, he had been reading “How to Avoid Probate”. If you are contemplating suicide and don’t want to leave a legal mess, this is a must read. When he failed to come home from work, my mother became increasingly concerned. But, she only showed it once that I noticed. After she put us to bed one evening, I overheard her whispering anxiously into the telephone about his absence until she broke down sobbing. A few days later, the County Coroner arrived at our door to tell us that they had found his body at the Kokomo Motel.
Looking back, I have the impression that Neil wanted to return to the South Pacific, probably New Caledonia. Growing up in Michigan, we had water colors of tropical islands hanging in our living room. He used to shout the chorus to song recorded in 1945 called: “Caledonia! Caledonia!”. After we moved to Sacramento, he ordered me plant six palm trees in our front yard in two groups of three for stability. Coincidentally, there were three girls and three guys in our family. Today, those palm trees are over 80 feet tall.