USA TODAY SPECIAL EDITION
144
JOHN ANDERSON
IN 1941: BOATSWAIN’S MATE 2ND CLASS | Roswell, N.M.
PAT SHANNAHAN/THE ARIZONA REPUBLIC
To his fans in southeastern New Mexico, his name was Cactus Jack — the dulcet-voiced host of Sagebrush Serenade, a program of country music on KSWS radio. He was in the studio on Valentine’s Day 1955 when a nervous young man walked in. The fellow was the opening act for country superstar Hank Snow that night at the North High School auditorium, and he had a new record. “Would you like to listen to it?” the young man asked. What Cactus Jack heard wasn’t quite country music, but he liked it. Song’s got some zip to it, he told the kid, and agreed to play it on his show. The song, Hound Dog, and the singer, Elvis Presley, both went over pretty well. For a lot of people, meeting Elvis and playing one of his first records on the air might sound like one of life’s truly unforgettable days. Becoming a stuntman who worked for John Wayne and Alan Ladd might be another. Even working as one of the first TV weathermen might count. But John Anderson, the former Navy man who called himself “Cactus Jack” on the air, had a good head start already. At 97, he has amassed a lifetime of unforgettable days. He chased Japanese soldiers along the coast of China. He fought at the Battle of Guadalcanal, in the battle of the Coral Sea, at Okinawa and Iwo Jima. He fought cold and hunger on a ship in the ocean off Alaska. In 1940, Anderson reported to the Arizona, joining his twin, Delbert “Jake” Anderson, for the first time since they had enlisted. They would serve together for a little over a year. And he was aboard on Dec. 7, 1941, when the Japanese bombed the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor, a pivotal moment in history that struck Anderson to his core: Jake was killed. “It was a bloody catastrophe, a bloody mess,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget what I saw that day.” Not long after he returned to Pearl Harbor near the end of the war, Anderson searched out some of the battle reports from Dec. 7, 1941. He knew his brother hadn’t made it off the Arizona alive, but little else. He found a report by a gunner’s mate that said most of the guys in the anti-aircraft batteries, where Jake fought, were shot down early in the assault. Anderson, 97, has returned to the Arizona memorial often with his family. He has met many of his old friends and shipmates. “It’s always a great thing for me to see them. That’s what I want to remember. The things I don’t want to remember was the blood.”
LONNIE COOK
In 1941: SEAMAN 1ST CLASS | Morris, Okla.
Lonnie Cook was born in Morris, Okla., a rural town south of Tulsa, not long after it was founded as a stop on the Ozark and Cherokee Central Railway. Only a few hundred people lived there then. Today, the population can almost reach 1,500 when everyone is home. Cook enlisted in the Navy in 1940 and was assigned to the USS Arizona, one of the largest battleships in the fleet with a crew that, at full complement, numbered more than 1,500. About a year after he boarded the ship, he ran into a young recruit named Clyde Williams, a fellow from Okmulgee, Okla., a few miles down the road from Morris. All those sailors from all those places and here was a guy who was practically a neighbor. “I was back here on leave before the war started and he was here, too,” Cook said. “We picked up a couple of girls and made the rounds.” On the Arizona, Cook was a gunner’s mate; Williams was in the band. On Dec. 7, 1941, Cook was changing clothes at his locker, savoring the thought of a day in Honolulu with the $60 he’d won in a craps game the night before. Williams was on deck, tuning up to play for colors, an early call after the previous day’s fleet Battle of the Bands on shore. Minutes later, the Japanese attacked and the Arizona was on fire, sinking beneath the surface. Cook made it off alive. He returned after the war to his home along the railway in eastern Oklahoma. By then, he’d seen the world, witnessed history before it was history. His ships steamed across the Pacific, through
the Panama Canal to Africa. He fought with other sailors in the Battle of Midway and watched the Marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima. But one day and one place in Cook’s 94 years seem to embody all the rest, the day in December 1941 when the young sailor from Oklahoma escaped the attack that sent America to war. His story is always in demand, though he’d just as soon not tell it in front of a lot of people. He remembers all the details. Cook, 94, has returned to Pearl Harbor three times and he likes the Arizona memorial. It is respectful. He’s not so fond of the crowds around
Honolulu and doesn’t plan to go back. But he still likes to talk about that other fellow from Oklahoma, the one who didn’t make it home. A few years ago, the Cooks attended a fundraising dinner at a local American Legion post. Cook is invited to such events occasionally and is sometimes introduced as an Arizona survivor. At this one, he saw a picture of a sailor in a memorial-like setting. He thought about where he was. “That must be old Clyde Williams,” he thought, the Arizona band member killed at Pearl Harbor. He walked back to look. Sure enough. It was Clyde.
He ran into a recruit who lived a few miles down the road in Oklahoma. All those sailors from all those places and here was a guy who was practically a neighbor.
PAT SHANNAHAN/THE ARIZONA REPUBLIC