Tom Nevers Naval Facility was founded in 1955 as a submarine listening base. It was built on land that the Navy had used as a bombing range during World War II. The facility also held a bomb shelter for President John F. Kennedy,[2] to be used in the event of a nuclear attack, if President Kennedy was in Hyannisport. The facility was abandoned in 1976 and later became home to the Nantucket Hunting Association.
Wings is an American sitcom that ran on NBC from April 19, 1990, to May 21, 1997. Starring Tim Daly and Steven Weber as brothers Joe and Brian Hackett, the show is set at the fictional “Tom Nevers Field” airport, a small two-airline airport in Nantucket, Massachusetts, where the Hackett brothers operate Sandpiper Air. Exteriors of Nantucket Memorial Airport were used for the show. Interior scenes were filmed on a sound stage at Paramount Studios in Hollywood, California, before a live studio audience.
On a warm day in September 1991 I made a trip to the Town Building after school. As I walked down Federal Street, I glanced at the World War II monument and the words "served 1941-45" leaped out at me. December would be the 50th anniversary of our entry into World War II. Since I teach American History at the Nantucket High School, I thought this would provide me with a "hook" to catch my students' attention. I did not anticipate that the hook would catch me as well.
If you were handed a sheet of paper headed by "The History of World War II," what would you write beneath the title? For many of us, dates such as December 1941 or August 1945 and names like Normandy, Anzio, Okinawa would be written down, but what would follow? Memories of your picture taken with your father, uncle, or brother in uniform? Rationing? Church bells announcing the war's end? Personal memories would crowd in upon the dates to give them meaning. Each would be a story remembered through different senses. By bringing personal Nantucket memories of the war years into focus, I knew I could accomplish two things: teach my students about what happened here where they live, and also give them an historical perspective on the elders they see in town, perhaps as heroes and heroines in their midst.
Armed with a blank book, I set out one October afternoon to copy all the names of Nantucket veterans on the Federal Street monument plaque. Writing quickly, I copied name after name down one column and up the next. Late afternoon shadows set in before I completed the list of 400 names. Four-hundred sons and daughters sent to war in 1941 from a population of approximately 2,700 was an astonishing statistic, in light of a school enrollment of 600 plus, and allowing for the very young, the women, and the elderly. Nantucket had sent one out of four of its draft-age population into World War II.
As I continued my research, I contacted Manny Machado, Nantucket's Veterans Administration agent, who happened to be on his way to the military archives in Boston to check on the names of three Nantucketers that had seemingly been omitted from the World War II roster. I also spoke with my colleague Charlie Flanagan, who informed me that his wife, Ruth Ann Murphy, and her mother were in Pearl Harbor when it was bombed. Ruth Ann's father had been stationed there, and she and her mother actually saw the Japanese bombers flying over before they hit. It seemed that even Nantucket dependents were involved in the war. As a thirteen-year-old living in the exotic territory of Hawaii, Ruth Ann Murphy would be a Nantucket witness to a quiet Sunday that turned into "a day of infamy," with 110 minutes of bloody air attack. At first, Ruth Ann thought the planes were being flown by Americans, coming in so low they would be in trouble with their commanders. Realizing the planes were Japanese, the family fled toward shelter, while Ruth's dad headed for the base.
After my conversation with Charlie Flanagan, I again checked with Manny Machado to see what he had gleaned from his Boston trip, as well as any other information he could share. He gave me a list of thirty-seven Nantucket names, and I was struck by the repetition. Brothers and cousins were fighting the war together. There were five Barretts; five Chases, including two women; four Coffins; four Dunhams; five Gibbses; four Holdgates; four Peases; four Perrys; four Rays; four Ryders; five Swains; five Sylvias; four Vieras; and four Wheldens, to name just a few. Some names I could attach to faces, others I did not know; still others were not familiar "Nantucket" family names anymore. Fifteen were young women who went to war, some of whom later became nurses at Nantucket Cottage Hospital, while others married and raised families. How many of their children knew that "Mother wore army boots"? The list was a series of revelations as I read the names of doctors, ministers, Nantucket's former state representative "Sid" Conway, businessmen, carpenters, and so on. I felt a real sense of loss when I realized that the names which had checks beside them were of those who had passed away. Their stories now exist in the memories of their loved ones.
To acquire first-hand information about Nantucket's involvement in the war, I started an oral-history project and assigned my students to veterans in the community. One young man had the luxury of choosing which grandfather to interview, while others were assigned persons they didn't know at all. The Cape Cod Consortium funded the cost of our recording equipment, and the students created a basic list of twenty-five questions that could be expanded upon.
While interviews were being conducted, we also looked at clippings from the December 1941 Inquirer and Mirror, along with ads from Ashley's Market, Wing's Department Store, and Louis Coffin Dry Goods. The Inquirer and Mirror came out on Saturdays back then. The December 6, 1941, issue would be printed with no inkling of the next day's events. On that quiet Sunday in December, however, involvement in the war already two years old in Europe was not totally unexpected. In the fall of 1940 selective service, or "the Draft" had begun, and eligible Nantucketers received numbers. Bundles for Britain was active.
As the sounds of war grew louder, events on the island pointed to preparations for the worst-case scenario, should it occur. The Nantucket Red Cross Grey Ladies held fundraisers in the summer of 1941. Some twenty women received their certificates for Red Cross nurse training. Registration for joining the Red Cross was so large that it was moved to the Legion Hall. The female residents of Our Island Home worked steadily for the Red Cross, making scarves and afghans. Though few in number, the 'Sconset branch of the Red Cross produced baby and children's clothes. By October of 1941 the annual Red Cross meeting reported that its clothing quota was met and that $2,500 had been contributed to the War Relief Drive. Little did the Grey Lady realize that two months later it would be making supplies not just for British allies, but for its own sons and daughters.
A quick reading of the newspapers in 1941 provides an insight into the astounding innocence and honesty of the times. The Yankee Division went on maneuvers in the South, and when it returned its exact route, numerical strength, unit commanders, etc., were published in the papers. It seemed we were oblivious to the possibility that such information was just what our soon-to-be enemies were looking for.
Once the war began, dramatic changes took place on Nantucket. Coast Guard stations were located at Muskeget, Tuckernuck, Madaket (two stations), Low Beach, Sankaty, Coskata, Great Point, and Brant Point. Several Nantucketers in the service were well over draft age; James Chapel was fifty-four when he joined the Coast Guard. He and his boat Alice went into service in May 1942, only days before Japanese soldiers hauled down the American flag on Corregidor. Two other Nantucket men and their boats "enlisted": Arthur McCleave and S. Balfour Yerxa. Their assignment was to patrol the island waters at all times in all weather, armed with a radio and a rifle. As were all inductees, this "older" group was sent to boot camp in Provincetown. Given the rank of chief petty officer, Chapel had a memorable first day on patrol. He and his crew of three brought in three boatloads of survivors from a vessel torpedoed by a German submarine. Those rescued were temporarily put up in Bennett Hall until they were moved to the mainland.
Island Doctor Wylie Collins was in his forties when he enlisted in the Army. He became post surgeon at Fort Screven, Savannah, Georgia. Eighteen months later he was promoted to the post of commanding officer and chief surgeon at the 328th Station Hospital on Attu in the Aleutian Islands. His hospital there was a Quonset hut buried in the snow.
David Raub lived on Nantucket for ten years before the war began. During those years David was a pioneer of sorts who helped bring aviation to Nantucket. In 1932 David persuaded farmer Leslie Holmes to clear some of his land at Nobadeer Valley for an airfield. By 1939 the Town of Nantucket acquired Nobadeer airport, but David Raub leased and ran it until 1942 when he donned an airforce uniform. Initially he was a pilot and instructor on B-26s. Later David ferried planes to the Pacific, Gulf Coast, Scotland, and India. In December of 1943 David was a test pilot flying a P-38 when it crashed into a frozen swamp. He died at the young age of 31, leaving behind his widow, Kathryn Cady Raub, and a two-month-old daughter.
By and large, the Nantucketers serving in World War II ranged in age from 18 to 38. From all the veterans interviewed it became clear that all these men and women volunteered to serve their country. They did not wait to be drafted. The United States needed help and they chose to step forward.
Like Nantucket youngsters today, Robert Pitman Grimes took a boat trip to the mainland during Christmas vacation, 1943. His friend Bob McGrath went with him. They didn't go shopping though; they enlisted in the Navy. Pit was 17 at the time and it was only his second trip off island. He was playing basketball with Charlie Fisher across from Cyrus Peirce school on December 7,1941, when news of Pearl Harbor came. The next two-and-a-half years of his life would take him across the Pacific to action off Iwo Jima, at Saipan and Okinawa, and eventually to Japan after the surrender. The war and his travels left him feeling "that Nantucket is a great place to live. You appreciate where you come from."
Roger Young was a 17-year-old student in 1942. He decided to enlist in the Navy during his senior year of high school. After basic training at Great Lakes Training Center, Roger was assigned his first ship, the USS Tarbell. He says he became an artist at scraping and repainting. Between ships Roger made a trip home and couldn't believe the changes the war had made. Shades were pulled low to block the lights at dusk each evening. Should evening bombers come, there was no point in letting them know they had reached U.S. shores. Automobiles drove with lights half blackened, and worst of all, many of Roger's high school girlfriends were getting married! Assigned to a new ship, the USS Hancock, Young went to Casablanca, Bermuda, and through the Panama Canal to the Pacific.
Locally, Nantucketers were being trained in what to do when the air raid sirens sounded. Ruth Chapel Grieder remembered being given charge of two younger children in her neighborhood when the sirens went off; Ruth was to get her two youngsters and race home with them. In school at Academy Hill, students were told to sit under their desks if the siren sounded. By this time rationing was in full swing on the island and there were long lines as people waited for a quarter of a pound of butter or a piece of meat. A United Service Organization was established where Hardy's is today. Jane Lamb's parents helped run the USO. The younger girls on the island "swept, mopped, made beds and served coffee and donuts." A coke was five cents, donuts were free. Wednesday and Saturday were dance nights from 9 to 12 p.m. Saturday dances featured three- to seven-piece bands. On other nights there were movies, but on Wednesday and Saturday everyone went to the Dreamland Theatre first, and then on to the dance.
Many island families opened their homes to servicemen. At one time men from every branch were stationed here. Sandy Craig's mother Maggie held open house and offered Sunday dinners to many of the servicemen. Other Nantucket women, including Mrs. Chapel, willingly gave up precious ration stamps to feed Nantucket boys home on leave a special dinner before they returned to war.
Driving toward the airport along Old South Road today the sign "Key Post Corner" indicates a small collection of businesses. During World War II, "key post" had an entirely different meaning. Coast Guard men patrolled the perimeter of the whole island on foot, around the clock. As the men passed different "key posts" around the island, they had to punch in on a time clock. They wore the "key" around their neck and, should they be late punching in, the worst was to be suspected—that somewhere a German sub had landed, preventing the check-in.
Some of today's Nantucketers first saw the island when they were stationed here during the war. Bob Sherman was born in Cleveland, Ohio, but came to Nantucket with a Navy crash crew. He recalls that during those years Navy planes flew over the island daily, dropping "dud bombs" on the target range. Bob married a Nantucket girl and was allowed to live off the Navy base. He remembers that a shipment of bananas caused excitement and long lines in the grocery stores just to get a few.
In keeping with the "black-outs," the gold leaf atop the Unitarian Church was covered over and black-out curtains became the decor of everyone's home. For many Nantucketers, the war's major lesson was the self-discipline taught by the example of the armed services. Whether it was Henry Huyser serving in Africa and Italy, Lawrence Cahoon on the Alcan Highway in Alaska, or Myles Reis along the Rhine, the themes of discipline, self-reliance, and dependence on one another to survive repeated themselves over and over. Young men of seventeen and eighteen who volunteered to serve learned that "you grow up quickly," according to Peter Gomes. He was eighteen when he volunteered for the Navy, and would serve in the South Pacific on and around New Guinea. While there Peter remembers "a few of us went to the mess hall and helped ourselves to some bread for a late night snack. We put the bread down, went for some other stuff and when we returned it was gone. Japanese snipers got it before we got back." While Peter was in the South Pacific, Manny Machado was busy in Panama, Central America, and the Galapagos Islands. His job was to set up the latest in aircraft tracking technology— radar. It was brand new and highly secretive. Up and down the Central American coast, down into South America, radar towers were set up. Later the towers went up even on the Galapagos Islands, made famous by Charles Darwin.
With the coming of war to the Pacific, war came to the Atlantic as well. By January of 1942, German subs began to sink merchant ships off the Atlantic coast. The Coast Guard had been escorting ships through the dangerous portions of the North Atlantic since the summer of 1941, but now ships were being sunk almost at our shores. The most valuable ships being used for high-seas escort work were 327-foot, high-endurance cutters of the Secretary class. Seven of these were built in 1936-37. One of them, the Spencer, would escort seventeen convoys across the Atlantic and become one of the most decorated ships in the Coast Guard. Bob Caldwell, having enlisted in the Coast Guard in April of 1941, was at sea when Pearl Harbor came and would be in those seventeen convoys on the Spencer. Throughout his time at sea, Bob kept a log of ships and his military life, with accounts of torpedoes being avoided, of the sinking of the Alexander Houlton, and of the deaths of the first Coast Guardsmen. The young men Nantucket sent to war often expressed loving thoughts of the sea. Byron Dunham began the diary of his Navy experiences: "This story was written by an observer on his first trip across the ocean and the first time he set foot on foreign soil." A poem by Barry Cornwall follows:
"I love, O how I love to ride,
on the fierce, foaming, bursting tide."
Not two weeks after the diary began, Byron Dunham's ship lost the other ships in the convoy during the night. "With no ships in sight everyone is getting a little uneasy. When you are in a convoy, you feel pretty safe and secure, but being out on your own you get very uneasy." The feeling of uneasiness continued as no ships were sighted the next day either. All guns were manned as the waters were sub infested. An SOS was picked up from a ship in the convoy that had been torpedoed.
On January 27 Byron was on deck in balmy 60-degree weather, standing watch with the second mate, when the ship was rocked by a terrific explosion. Torpedoed! They were amidships, starboard side, at 1345. Byron ran below, grabbed his life jacket, pen, and diary. He ran and got the mate's chronometer, donned a rubber life-saving suit, and began helping shipmates down the life nets. He then followed them into the oily waters. The entire crew, so it seemed, made it to rafts or lifeboats. When the crew was about a thousand feet away, the sub fired another torpedo, breaking the ship in two and sinking her. In Byron's words, "One thing I must say in their favor, that is, they let everyone get off before they fired the second torpedo."
Once all the rafts and boats were tied together a count of the crew was taken. Three men were missing. They went down with the ship. The German sub surfaced and proceeded to pick up what cargo was floating. The radio operator sent an SOS. The wounded were cared for; then everyone waited. Crammed into the rafts the way they were, when one man moved, everyone became uncomfortable. Water splashed into the rafts constantly, and even with rubber suits it was bitter cold. Sleep was impossible. Cold and hungry, the crew eagerly anticipated dawn and their first issue of rations since the day before. At 4:30 a.m., a light was seen on the horizon. The officer in command started sending up flares. Minutes later a Portuguese destroyer drew near and took all the survivors aboard. Several days later the destroyer, the Lima, put in at St. Miguel, Azores.
By January 1945, Byron Dunham was in the Pacific theater on an LST (Landing Ship Tank) group that "had the honor of being the assault wave that hit the beach" at Luzon, Philippine Islands. For two days before the beachhead was established, he had seen hundreds of bombers on runs over Luzon while the fleet blasted Lingayen. By June of 1945, Byron was on Guam for the second time. On this trip he met Joe Terry, who was stationed there, and Bob McGrath and Kenny Lewis, both of whom were stationed on the Ticonderoga. Walter Swain was also on Guam at the time, attached to an LST unit. During Nantucket's whaling era, her young men often gammed on foreign seas and shores. How appropriate that, during a twentieth-century world war on a distant Pacific island, these five Nantucketers would find themselves together for a brief time, sharing a meal and a few thoughts of home.
When news of the Japanese surrender came, the crew on Dunham's boat celebrated with a water fight. Back home in Nantucket a community victory service had been held when Germany surrendered. It was held at the Federal Street Honor Roll, followed by services in every church on Nantucket. With the victory in the Pacific, the war was finally over and the boys could come home. Young men of seventeen and eighteen, young women in their twenties, men in their thirties, fathers in their forties and fifties had all served their country. These Nantucketers learned something, and in the words of Everett Lamb, USMC, "Americans can do anything if they pull together.. . ."
