2 January 1945
I am going to write a short introduction for the letter so that folks
can understand why I wrote it without having to puzzle about the
reason while reading the letter.
You can put it together with the letter to Sen. Inouye.
I had a great meeting with Senator Inouye last thursday, the morning
before I left Washington. He got his staff right on it. In fact I
already have filled out the forms, online, that they are forwarding
to the Navy for the re-accreditation to Hawaii.
In the process of researching a longer bio on my dad I am trying to
get copies of his high school records, as they may provide some clues
about what else he may have been doing around that time. Thus far,
I have discovered that these records actually still exist and are
housed in a backwater office in Honolulu. In fact, I have talked to
the lady who is in charge of these records but I am not yet sure that
I have convinced her: 1) that my father is really dead and 2) that I
am his next of kin (son). She wants proof and is not sure that the
copy of the KIA telegram and a copy of the MOH citation is sufficient
proof. She is not sure that the MOH citation written on White House
stationary and signed by the President is official enough to replace a
death certificate signed and stamped by the local coroner. 'Crats,
you got to love e'm.
George
17 September 2009
Honorable Daniel K. Inouye
722 Hart Senate Office Building
Subject: the Repatriation of a Hawaiian Hero
Dear Senator Inouye:
My father, the late US Navy Commander, George Fleming Davis, was born in Manila P.I. during a time his father was working as a ship fitter for the Navy. At an early age my farther moved with his parents to Honolulu T.H. when his father was reassigned to work at
He was culturally a citizen of Hawaii, in outlook, in activities and acquaintances, to such an extent that he had to delay entrance to the Naval Academy for one year in order to learn to write and speak “proper English” , his native tongue being the “Pigeon” spoken by his peers. At the Naval Academy his chief nickname was “Lulu” on account of his association with his hometown, Honolulu. His biography in his graduating yearbook from the Academy, “the Lucky Bag” makes reference in virtually every sentence to his identity as a Hawaiian.
Just as his family heritage as ship fitters for the Navy contributed to his career so did the activities and skills learned during his formative years in the Islands contributed to his competence and expertise in the execution of his naval duties. In his assignment to the engineering department of the USS Okalahoma, prior to Pearl Harbor, in his day-to-day duties, he was able to draw on the experience of his father, grandfather and uncles who constructed, outfitted and repaired Navy Ships. As an accomplished free diver he was able to inspect every square inch of the Okalahoma’s bottom on a regular basis, without having to resort to the cumbersome diving gear of the day. During the Pearl Harbor attack he was able to use the powerful swimming skills learned in his youth in the Islands to rescue many of his fellow crew members and bring them ashore from the overturned battleship, pulling them through the burning waters.
Later, as chief Damage Control Officer of the USS Honolulu he was able to call upon his gut level knowledge of ship structure and systems in the stress of the severe damage of battle, in order to keep his vessel operational.
Still later, when assuming command of the USS Walke DD723 as the youngest full Commander in the Navy he was able to draw on even more of his Hawaii learned skills.
He was known throughout his destroyer squadron for his ability to maneuver his vessel along side a tanker to take on fuel in the severest weather, when no others would dare attempt the exercise. He may well have been drawing upon the experience he had acquired maneuvering those heavy old boards through the surf on the North Shore.
His ability, learned as a surfer, to “read the water” enabled him to do such things as to maneuver the Walke close in to shore in order to pick up downed flyers, a mauuver which would have been too risky for others without the same skill set.
This same skill set was to play a critical role in his last day. January the 5th, 1945 the day that Samuel Elliot Morrison in his official history of the Pacific Campaign was to call “the hottest day in hell for the US Navy. There he was able to maneuver his vessel close into shore in order to assist and provide cover to the minesweepers, which were taking heavy fire in their task of clearing the beach of mines prior to the landings at Linguyen. The enemy, at any rate, considered the Walke’s movements to be effective and a threat. While a great deal of ammunition was expended that day from both sides, so much so that the sky itself seemed blotted out by the density of flying shells, the Japanese had only 30 Kamikazes to expend that day, holding the remainder in reserve for the expected US landings. In that circumstance they threw 5 of their precious Kamikazes at the USS Walke in preference to the other available targets.
These aircraft now became the business of the Walke’s gunners, who had already established a reputation for accuracy. Prior to his assuming command, the Walke had participated in the Normandy Landings and had been engaged in artillery support against the entrenched German Resistance. Three times the vessel had to return to England to replenish the magazines, so much ammunion did they expend.
Upon assuming command, Commander Davis, drilled them extensively along with the entire crew in extensive Damage Control. They had a reputation of not knowing how to miss. At Lingayen, the Walke’s gunners were able to dispatch the first four of the suicide planes as these approached from the side. Initially undetected a fifth Kamikaze approached low and straight down the bow, firing its 50 calibers on to the deck and into the backside of the gun turrets, landing nose down directly behind the bridge. The only thing good about this was that this Kamikaze’s explosives did not go off, as its target was so close in that the detonators were not yet enabled.
However, there was a considerable explosion from the gasoline of the aircraft’s impact. The bridge was immediately engulfed in flames and the vessel was taking hits from ashore, as well. The crews were able to direct water and other fire control at the bridge in order to cool it down. They were also able to throw wet blankets in the direction of the skipper to cover himself with as he remained on station, directing damage control in other parts of the ship and maneuvering his vessel out of the hell fire that engulfed it. For a while he was saturated with gasoline and burned like a living torch.
About twenty minutes later the fires were under control and the vessel out of substantial danger. Years later, I can remember how one of the Walke’s gunners recounted how he approached the still hot bridge rail and reached over it to pull himself up on the bridge only to look down to the teakwood bridge deck and see that it had completely burned out. There no place where he could stand on. Looking up to his skipper, who remained the captain’s seat, to be told by him “There will be no order to abandon ship”.
I also remember the respect and love of another crewmember who recounted how he carefully stitched together and weighted down the canvas shroud that was to consign my father’s body to the deep. It was my fathers last wish that be returned to his wife and baby sons. Of course, that can not be. Not in this life.
It was only through some bureaucratic misstep that my father’s Medal of Honor is listed as “accredited to the Philippine Islands”. The usual practice is that the accreditation be based on the hometown and State of the recipient. True, my father was born in the Philippines while his father was on temporary assignment there, and he had great respect for the Philippine people. However, my father was Hawaiian to the core.
Senator, please help our family return what little we have left of him to his proper place and list him among Hawaii’s Heroes.
Respectfully,
George R. Davis