Johnson said he could have joined any of the branches of the service, and considered the U.S. Marine Corps., though if he signed up there, he would have to leave for training that very day.  The Marine recruiter kindly offered him the use of his desk phone so that he could make arrangements to have someone pick up his old car, which he had parked outside the recruiting office, but he declined.

 

The U.S. Navy offered seven days for recruits to say goodbye to friends and family before heading to basic training, while the U.S. Army had a 21-day grace period before new recruits had to report in.  Johnson chose the Army, and he said he never regretted it.  “I liked the Army,” he said, because it provided a “sense of adventure” for an 18-year old that had not seen much of the world.  That would soon change.

 

After travelling by train to Chicago and then to California for training and his first sight of the Pacific Ocean, Johnson shipped out to the South Seas as a U.S. Army aircraft observer, attached to a number of anti-aircraft companies charged with preventing small groups of Japanese aircraft from making low level attacks on American air bases build during the “Island Hopping Campaign” that brought U.S. forces ever closer to Japan.

 

Land combat operations on Guadalcanal were over by the time Johnson’s unit arrived, though they did receive nightly visits from “Washing machine Charlie”, a Japanese bomber with a noisy exhaust that would drop occasional “nuisance” bombs just to keep the U.S. troops awake and in their trenches.  The famous “Tokyo Rose” would apologize over the radio the day after, saying she hoped the Americans had not been too disturbed.  Her comments would be roundly booed by the troops who heard her program over the P.A. system, Johnson said, but she did also play popular music.

 

Johnson served two years, two months and twenty-three days in the military, he said, eighteen months of that overseas.  His unit landed on Bougainville, New Georgia, Green Island and the Leyte landings in the Philippines, each time going ashore to work with either Army or Marine anti-aircraft units to defend the newly-created air bases.

Johnson declines to talk about the details of his war experience, but he did say that he lost friends in his unit, and that the Japanese resistance on the islands was fierce and fanatical.  Soldiers were also lost for other reasons, perhaps a “Dear John” letter from the girl back home proving to be too much for a young soldier already stressed in combat to deal with.  “You were still young,” Johnson said, “but you weren’t a kid anymore.”

 

As the planned invasion of the Japanese home islands grew closer, the troops who had done several amphibious landings started to question their luck, Johnson said, wondering how many would survive what was sure to be a furious defense.  The fleet was prepared, he said, and the men were nervously awaiting the order to prepare for the invasion in the summer of 1945.

 

A buddy asked if he was going to the U.S.O. show one afternoon, and Johnson said no until the soldier said that Sophie Tucker was singing in it.  She was perhaps the most famous American singer of the time, and very popular with the troops, so Johnson changed his mind on the spot and went along.

 

As Miss Tucker was singing a medley of patriotic songs, a man rushed onto the stage and whispered something into her ear.  Johnson said the singer heard the message, flung her arms straight up into the air and shouted “Hallelujah, the war is over!”  She then explained to the stunned troops that the U.S. had dropped a “secret weapon” on Japan, and that the war was surely over.  That was August 6, 1945, one day before Johnson’s 20th birthday. 

 

Delays in getting a troopship back home kept Johnson in the service until 1946.  He attended college on the G.I. Bill, which he said made the creation of the American middle class possible, as he would have had no thought of entering a university if not for that act of Congress.  After studying business at Wayne State University in Detroit, Johnson worked in the insurance, eventually transferring to Minneapolis.

 

He and Margaret, his late wife of 60 years who he called “Muscles”, raised their children in Robbinsdale. When Margaret suffered a stroke, the couple began to look around for a new home without a staircase to make getting around easier for her.  That search led them to Becker, where they enjoyed some “very happy years,” he said, and where he lives today.

 

William F. Johnson was honorably discharged from the U.S. Army in January, 1946.  Among his decorations were four bronze battle stars and unit and theatre campaign medals and ribbons.  He is active in the Becker Lion’s Club, and Faith in Action.