November 8, 2007

A breed of heroes  

City honors Almaden veteran

By Ron Cruger
Special to the Times

On Tuesday, the San Jose City Council honored Frank Carbone, an Almaden resident and decorated World War II hero. Carbone served three years in the U.S. military to help save the world from the terror derived from German and Japanese tyrants. While he has a unique story, he would be the first to remind that he was just one of many who gave of himself—and in some cases who gave themselves—to make the world safe for all.

Frank Carbone visits Honolulu on liberty in 1944-45. Photo courtesy of the Carbone family.

Current Almaden resident Frank Carbone was attending high school in Syracuse, N.Y. when Pearl Harbor was attacked on Dec. 7, 1941. Nine months later, on Aug. 11, 1943, Carbone enlisted in the United States Navy. He had just turned 18.

“We were fighting for our country,” said Carbone. “We had been attacked. It’s not like it is now in Iraq. We were defending our country. Everyone was very patriotic.”

Hundreds of thousands of young men and women like Carbone enlisted for military service early in World War II during a time of spirit, sacrifice and commitment. The nation pulled together to defeat its enemies.

Carbone first went to the Sampson Naval training base in upstate New York for “boot training,” followed by a move to Great Lakes Naval Training Station in Illinois, where he became a 3rd class petty officer before being transferred to San Diego.

By December, 1943, he was in Pearl Harbor, aboard the USS Ashland, which contained 12 mechanized landing craft. The ship was on maneuvers, readying to fight.

USS Ashland carried the LCM’s across the Pacific Ocean to the islands and other places in the Pacific theater. Thousands died on these islands.

Carbone was awaiting the battles for the Pacific islands that would lead to the eventual invasion of Japan. And, like the other sailors, he realized that many would never make it home. But they were fighting for their families and friends.

The USS Ashland underway off Cape Henry, Va. in 1953. She had been virtually unmodified since her commission 10 years before when she was commissioned in San Francisco in 1943. During Frank Carbone’s assignment, the ship logged 150,000 miles in the Pacific Theater. Photo courtesy of U.S. National Archives

He and his shipmates fought battles in exotic locations such as Okinawa, Saipan, New Guinea, Guam, Peleliu, Leyte Gulf. Even today he remembers those battles, along with the sounds, smells and odors of battle.

During the war, Carbone received six stars, one for each invasion in which he participated, and was awarded the Asiatic-Pacific Medal with four stars, the Victory medal, the Philippine Liberation medal with two stars and the American Area medal.

Now 82, Carbone lives in Almaden with his wife. His daughter lives nearby. Once in awhile he recalls his time at war. He sees Japanese jumping off the cliffs of Tinian--scores jumped to their deaths rather than surrender and embarrass their Emperor. He sees the Marines speeding to beachheads on Iwo Jima on foot and in their Sherman tanks.

He remembers seeing the Grumann Hellcats dog fighting in the skies above Iwo Jima. “In 10 minutes they knocked six Japanese planes out of the sky,” he said. He remembers being on ship and seeing Kamikaze planes attempting to dive into the American warships. He recalls seeing the suicide planes coming so close that he could see the pilots in their leather helmets.

Mayor Chuck Reed, left, and Councilmember Nancy Pyle award Almaden resident Frank Carbone a commendation from San Jose for his service to his country in World War II.

He also remembers three typhoons that rocked his ship while waiting for battle. He remembers being on an LCM, dashing to the beach on Saipan during the invasion along with the splashes of enemy mortar fire landing yards ahead of him and his mates as they were ordered to “keep moving.”

When returning to his ship, anchored just off the beaches of Iwo Jima. he remembers staring at the ashen summit of Mount Suribachi and being impressed with its grey color and its bareness. He looked away, and a few minutes later saw the American flag waving atop the mountain. He had glanced away and missed the planting of the American flag made famous in the photograph taken by Joe Rosenthal.

Carbone also remembers the voyages following the end of the war to Korea, Shanghai and Peking (now Bejing) and New Caledonia.

Another promotion took Carbone to machinist mate 2nd class, the equivalent of the Army’s staff sergeant.

As the Americans made preparations to invade Japan a small contingent of U.S. pilots, engineers and scientists secretly gathered on the island of Tinian. The grand experiment, America’s biggest secret, was ‘The Manhattan Project.” That creation, the atom bomb, was about to be dropped for the first time in history.

A serious 19-year-old Frank Carbone faced World War II in the Pacific.

In the early morning hours of Aug. 6, 1945 the Enola Gay took off from Tinian—headed for Hiroshima. Hours later the pilot dropped the bomb. The mushroom cloud formed, the fireball took its toll. Fifty thousand Japanese died in an instant that day with a hundred thousand to die later from the bomb’s persistent effects. The Japanese government was urged to surrender, but refused.

Three days later another plane dropped a second bomb on Nagasaki. Another 50,000 died in an instant, with more deaths in succeeding years. Finally, convinced of their impending defeat, the Japanese government signed the papers offering their unconditional surrender. World War II had officially ended on Sept. 2, 1945.

Carbone survived the war. He came to a new home; his family had moved to San Jose. He was discharged from the U.S. Navy in 1946.

In 1947, Carbone was invited to tryout for the Brooklyn Dodgers and Washington Senators. He played golf, scoring in the 70s. He still plays tennis and he’s proud of his many championship trophies. He got a job working at the Kaiser Aluminum plant, took a crash course in marketing fresh produce and in 1954 opened his own produce stand.

Today Carbone thinks about the thousands that never came back, but isn’t very comfortable talking about the war. He considers that he was just doing his job. “We were attacked. We had to fight for our country,” he said.