Interview of Josephine Boecker on her service in the 
American Red Cross in the South Pacific during WWII


Josephine Boecker:	For the Library of Radcliffe College regarding war service of women during World War II. My name is Josephine Boecker, spelled B-O-E-C-K-E-R, and I'm a member of the Women’s Overseas Service League of Orange County in California. My service lasted 3 years, from September ’43 to September ’46 in New Guinea, the Philippines, and Japan. [inaudible 0:37]. In the summer of 1943, I received a letter from the National Headquarters of the American Red Cross in Washington, DC, asking if I were available for miliary welfare work in hospitals and camps. Their files indicated that I had served on 2 disaster re-, relief, um, projects for them, and they wondered if I could come to Washington for 3 months training at the American University, which they had taken over. They could not guarantee what or where the jobs would be but suggested I buy enough clothes to last for 2 years in any climate and buy a footlocker to put them in. It was a flat trunk that could be carried like a large metal suitcase. It was a challenge to buy shoes, underwear, and clothing, so I prepared for the coldest climate and wound up in a tropical jungle. My first interview was in San Francisco Headquarters followed by an investigation presumably by the FBI. After clearance was received, I was granted a year’s leave of absence from teaching in Los Angeles, but it eventually had to be extended to 3 years. 

	Besides teaching, I was doing 3 types of war service. After working hours, I made investigations of people applying for commissions in the armed forces and strategic industries, issued ration books and riveted parts for bombers during the vacation. On going into the service, I took a h-, a thousand dollar a year cut in salary but was glad to do it as the Red Cross had 400 volunteers for each paid worker. I traveled to Washington, DC, on the train with other recruits from California. We lived at the dormitory of the American University, and our lectures were usually conducted by people who had just returned from various warfronts describing actual conditions. Both the lectures and assignments were very time consuming, and we were graded on many projects simulating possible situations we would encounter. After 3 months, some recruits were dropped, some were assigned to overseas, uh, locations in either camps or hospitals, and the rest were assigned to, uh, u-, United States’ posts. Some of the students had, uh, served 2 weeks assignments at St. Elizabeths Psychiatric Hospital, but another girl and I were sent to p-, Camp Patrick Henry Hospital in Virginia instead. It was good experience with patients in the wards, and there were also prisoners of war that were taken from enemy ships. The, uh, 2 weeks of training at the hospital were very valuable in taking of many of the patient's needs. 

	We had been issued, uh, 1 winter uniform, 1 summer uniform, and 2 seersucker dresses. All were in shades of gray with folding caps to match. We bought regulation white blouses and black shoulder strap bags for personal things. On returning to Washington, I was placed in a hotel and went to the Pentagon almost daily for various shots against strange-sounding diseases. Uh, on passing the Whitehouse, it was very dramatic to see people from all over the world in colorful uniforms coming and going. Finally, a member of our training staff assembled 50 girls and put us on a train headed west. That was a surprise as we expected to be sent to North Africa or Europe. The train was quite antiquated and crowded with troops. They could only provide 2 meals a day for us, and we sat up all the way across the States. On reaching Chicago, we were taken to a hotel for a few hours so we could clean up from the coal smoke and rest a bit. Then we learned we had been directed to the wrong train earlier, so we were put on a newer one, but it was still very crowded. The nicest experience across country was a beautiful snowstorm in the Rockies. On reaching San Francisco, we were taken to a hotel where the 50 girls were placed in 3 suites with the beds just 3 feet apart and all our gear beside us in case we got sudden orders to move out. 

	It was the Christmas season, and we were allowed to phone our families but not tell them why we could not be home for the holidays. I simply told my folks I was waiting to be assigned for more training at a hospital. We could go out in small groups so as not to attract attention but had to call in every 4 hours if away from the hotel. Since none of us knew where in the world we were going, it was easy to keep that a secret if anyone inquired. Mrs. Roosevelt had come to our graduation just after a trip to the South Pacific, and she told us not to go overseas if we had any doubts in our minds about being able to cope with any situation in which we might find ourselves. Finally, on January 3, 1943, we were assembled in the hotel lobby with all our gear, including helmets, gasmasks, pistol belts, uh, hung with first-aid kit, canteen, mess kit, and, uh, but no guns. A truck had picked up our bedrolls and pup tents to deliver to a ship, but we were loaded down with our suitcases, musette bag, shelter, bags of personal things, plus many layers of uniform, including rain gear. A bus took us to the docks at Pittsburg near San Francisco, where we found 2,500 men waiting to board the ship Nord-, Noordam, N-O-O-R-D-A-M, a Dutch ship. The men were mainly for the air corps and the CB, uh, meaning Construction Battalion. 

	It took hours to examine our papers, and while standing in line each of the Red Cross girls was handed one more thing to carry. It was a case of phonograph records. Our ship was of the Holland American line on contract to the US, and it had not been to Holland for 4 years, as the Nazis occupied their homeland. When it was a cruise ship, it carried 400 passengers but now had over 6 times that many aboard, so we got only 2 meals a day and often had to put a roll or fruit in our pocket as we got so hungry during the next 4 weeks at sea. The women had 6 persons to a cabin instead of 2 with bunks 3, 3 deep, but the men had bunks 6 deep, many in the hold of the ship with so little air they spent almost all their time on the deck. One could hardly walk on the deck without stepping on somebody, but cooperation was very good. We had only saltwater for bathing or laundry but were able to fill our con-, canteens with fresh water at a place on the deck. One boy was thought to be seasick until he died of pneumonia, so there was a military burial at sea for him. Strict blackouts were needed at night with portholes closed, and it got very hot as we went on south. 

	The ship’s chaplain asked the girls to scout talent aboard and organize shows, contests, games, and boxing matches for daytime activities, but no lights were allowed on deck at night. The ship had a pump organ and a set of drums, which helped, as well as, um, um, many instruments that the boys had brought, such as guitars. We distributed playing cards, books, and magazines the chaplain had brought, so everybody seemed to share activities. Our nearest alternative to, um, Australia was New Guinea, so when food and water were getting low because of electrical failures to provide for fresh water and food, the captain headed for mil-, Milne Bay, M-I-L-N-E, it's spelled, which was Base A for our forces in the South Pacific, and that is where the Japanese were finally stopped in their conquest of the Pacific countries heading south. Engineers who were building an airstrip stopped the Japanese as they emerged over the Owen Stanley range of mountains. Everybody said no human could survive that bad a jungle, but somehow they had and surprised the engineers who stopped them. We had seen the and, uh, and heard bombing before reaching Milne Bay at night but stayed below for a blackout. Because of the terrible reefs there, docks could not be built, so we anchored in the deep bay and were quite surprised the next morning to find 200 other ships waiting there ahead of us to unload by landing barges. 

	Our, uh, captain heard the air force boys were badly needed up at a port called L-A-E, Lae, so he delivered them the next day, but the rest of us were still waiting for orders. Standing in trucks, the women were taken on a tour of the jungle and tent camps at Lae. I shall never forget the thrill of hearing Beethoven’s Fifth Concerto being played at a Red Cross palm-thatched hut in the dense jungle by a g-, a GI who was somehow able to get music out of a beat-up, old [Aussie 12:04] piano that had survived that steaming climate. While there, they introduced us to battery acid, their name for powdered lemon aid, which toast-, tasted wonderful in our hot, dirty state. They also had huge tin cans of Aussie biscuits, which were plain, thin cookies. We were made very welcome, but alas, orders took us back on the ship to return to m-, Milne Bay. At midnight in a heavy rain, we heard the often repeated “Now hear this, all Red Cross personnel will assemble your gear and go ashore in landing barges.” We were so loaded down with clothing and our gear, we could hardly make it to the barges. We were also so hot and wet. I tried to find a happy thought to carry us through, but all I could think of was they're probably doing this for your own good because the rain will camouflage your arrival. 

	When we hit the beach and waded ashore, we had to climb up an incline and then began to fall into foxholes dug for protection of the personnel there during the raids. Tents had been put up for us with 4 canvas folding cots to a tent and 1 nail for each on center pole for our clothes. There were no floors, so our gear went on the wet ground. We opened our cots and collapsed [chuckle] on them. After a short rest, the port authority mess boys next to us sent word to come over for chocolate cake and coffee. That caused a revival. The boys had heard we were coming, bless their hearts, and stayed up to welcome us. When they asked where each of us was from and I said from near San Pedro, California, a cheer went up as their local hero was from there. They were so proud of him and the wonderful job he had done in moving equipment in and out of that base day and night, no matter what the size. They said they would have gone anywhere with him to get the job done that lie ahead. Unfortunately, he had gone home for a rest. Then they remembered he had a name besides the Big Swede. He was Colonel Harold [Nerving 14:36], my classmate in high school, and we were student body officers together. 

	At graduation, we each received a ring for service and took the same oath that ancient Athenians took, to leave their city better than they found it. However, this was stretching our city limits several thousand miles away. The only water at our women’s compound was in a canvas lister bag, uh, with a spigot on it. We had to share it with the guard at the gate to the main road. Later a scaffold was built and a drum or water installed, which helped us wash up a bit, but helmets were the best thing for holding water and trying to keep clean. Finally, a bucket was given us along with a big wooden board and scrub brush to help get our kaki clothes clean. We were put into men’s clothes almost immediately because the constant rain and red mud made our city clothes and shoes impossible. Because of the severe malarial conditions, no containers could be used to capture the rainwater, and box-shaped mosquito nets were fitted over T-shaped sticks on our cots. We also had to take a malarial suppressant drug each day called Atabrine. The insects were so large crawling under our cots, we wondered when we should we should call 'em [boars 16:14] or when we should call 'em animals. Are dense jungle there had 15-foot python, wild boars with tusks, and all kinds of snakes, uh, land crabs, and scorpions, just to mention a few. 

	Many of the 50 girls in our group were flown out almost immediately to various parts of the Pacific, but I was told to stand by to join a hospital unit coming from, uh, Los Angeles. In the meantime, I got busy helping a Red Cross man set up some recreation centers for the 100 thousand men at our base who were waiting to be sent into action or helping to maintain the base. There was no town whatever, not even a store or PX, and there were no supplies available. Some logs had been rolled in to provide seats for a few outdoor movies at night, but they were usually rained out. Bulldozers were too busy making roads and airstrips for us to have access to them very often for clearing enough jungle to, to make a recreation center. First we turned a deserted mess hall at the center of the base into a club by breaking up packing boxes and building stages, cupboards, tables, counters, and so forth to dispense games, refreshments, and talent shows. It had open sides and a palm-thatched roof. By mooching paint from odd sources, we made it bright and cheerful. The men came immediately to see what was going on and were soon put to work. They had great ideas and fulfilled our mission for being there, which was to involve them in activities so they would not have time to brood over their circumstances. 

	As soon as club number 1 was finished, uh, it opened for activities from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., and became so overcrowded we knew immediately that every outfit on the base needed its own club where they could use their spare time and hold some activity. With no supplies, we decided to send for Captain Marley, the Australian in charge of a native labor camp. Papuan women had been taken over the mountains into protective camps, but the men were avail-, were available for work when we needed them. Since they had, uh, used palm trees to construct their large buildings for generations, we asked them to help us by using pigeoning, er, English and drawing in, um, the dirt. Using palm trunks for the framework and bracing of the roof all tied together with tough strips of braided palm leaves, they were very secure. Then layers of palm thatching covered the roof, and any partitions needed were woven or palm strips. An artillery outfit soon had its own club, then an antiaircraft club, and an all-negro unit of 500, with 5,000 men, which were housed next to us had a, a good, um, club set up for them, and some colored girls came to run it for them. Talent of all kinds was found among the men and traded between all the different groups. Contests and discussion groups were also popular. So we really tried to keep them all busy. 

	Finally, the hospital I was scheduled to join was finished up on the mountainside, and I moved there. It was called the 47th General Hospital of a thousand beds with screening and, uh, sides of a prefab, uh, material, uh, which was also used for the roof. Patients came to us from former tent hospitals, from ships, planes, and all over the Pacific. There were 19 women on the staff, and we all slept in 1 ward, which was something like a long shed. Eventually we opened a nice recreation center for the ambulatory patients and made daily ward visits to the bed patients. We had a team of 5 Red Cross workers headed by a social worker, a secretary to handle the paperwork, and 3 recreation workers to visit wards as well as keep the program going, uh, from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m., at night in the hall. After a year in New Guinea, I hitchhiked to ride on a hospital plane to Australia for a week’s leave and was very graciously received. Being in uniform plus having a yellow complexion from the malaria-suppressant Atabrine, strangers on the street invited me to their homes. They expressed gratitude for our help to their people in New Guinea and protection of their homeland, which had also been bombed. On returning to my hospital, I noticed a big reduction in patient load and convoys moving out for action in the Philippines. 

	We, too, were to be headed there as soon as a tres-, transport was available and eventually had to take some patients with us, who had no way to, uh, get home. On arriving in Manilla, we found terrible devastation. Beautiful, old government buildings were a heap of rubble crushed into the streets. People took shelter where ever they could in bombed-out areas. Things were in a paralyzed state with water available only spasmodically, and food lines were long. We helped out at various hospitals, often operating in schools, which had been sus-, h-, uh, suspended. But we were soon put on a little train and sent to San Fabian where we lived in tents again and worked in field hospitals. The climate was very hot and steamy, but the people were so appreciative. They held a dinner for us in the town square with dancing and singing and speeches of thanks for the Americans. The Red Cross Directory, pardon me, a Red Cross director visited me there and said that the hospital staff from Los Angeles was ending its tour-of-duty, uh, promise to the army and my term had also almost expired, but she said that although they could not hold me longer, there was no way they could send inexperienced people into the invasion of Japan. She asked if I were willing to join another girl and report to a strategic unit on the north coast planning the invasion. If so, it would be greatly appreciated. 

	I finally agreed to go and reported to Manilla for outfitting in winter clothes for the cold climate in Japan. In Manilla, he, I met my new Red Cross helper, and we traveled to a camp near San Fernando North where a little bamboo house had been built for us on the beach. We set up a recreation then, uh, a room for the men attached to the unit and, uh, also worked at a nearby field hospital. When we inquired of the officials there what our duties would be in the invasion, we were told that we would have a mobile unit and we would know what to do when the time came, which left it rather vague. Very soon, while on duty at a hospital nearby, we heard that an invention called an atom bomb had been dropped in Japan, which might end the war because of its enormous power. The patients were unbelieving until a US Army radio confirmed it later. Within a few days, the surrender from Hirohito came. We were soon asked to report to the hospital ship Comfort to join nurses going to Tokyo to see up a hospital in the, uh, center called the [inaudible 26:03], s-, uh, uh, area, and ours was to be the 172nd Station Hospital of 500 beds. Our hospital ship had been hit by a kamikaze suicide pilot earlier and repaired at one of the islands, so the giant red crosses on the, uh, decks and sides were no protection then, but we hoped they would be now on entering Japanese waters. 

	As the plane came out from Tokyo to meet us, we were glad to see the American insignia as it in-, escorted us to Yokohama docks. We occupied, occupied a Tokyo Hospital that looked quite modern on the outside but had to have a lot of renovation. The city, which had held 7-million population, was almost entirely leveled except for the buildings the, uh, occupational forces expected to use and a few protected by protocol. After setting up the Red Cross recreation room at the hospital for occupation forces, it soon became too small, so an engineer suggested we build one on the roof, mainly of glass, and it was a big success. We organized a trade of talent among the US units in Japan and accepted offers of Japanese too, so they had a very active center. A contest was started called Eye to the Future, and the patients used many creative ideas to compete for a free trip to Shanghai by the courtesy of the army. It was a very enlightening experience to see how the cultural and political patterns changed under democratic influence. In the schools, in journalism, in all government institutions reforms were at work to free many futile systems. Health facilities were started for inoculations, vaccinations, and education against many diseases. This move is estimated to have saved more lives in the first 2 years of the occupation than all those lost by Japan in the war. 

	During my year in the first year of the occupation, I was able to meet a number of leaders both American and Japanese through the lease-, liaison work of General MacArthur’s public relations officer. I shall be forever grateful to the American Red Cross for allowing me to do what needed to be done both during the war and in a reconstruction period that followed. It was such a powerful experience that words are inad-adequate to express it. I was not able to keep a diary, so this record is entirely from memory and giving only the practical side of the war during service in World War II. This is Jo Boecker signing off from the hills, uh, Laguna Hills, California, and saying sayonara for now.

	I should like to make a, a small correction in the date given for our sailing overseas. It was January 3, 4-, 1944, instead of ’43.


/lo