Mary-Anne Hansen Stickney
I’m writing in memory of my father, Peter Wales Hansen. He was
taken from his family while they were young. Harriet was 10, John
was 8, I, Mary-Anne was 6 and his loving wife, our mother, Bernice
Kurtzweil Hansen. I want my children and grandchildren to have a
record of how their grandfather was buried in a mass grave with 99
others soldiers of many nations. Even in this year of 2004, it’s
hard for people who did not experience WWII to understand.
Peter was born in Green Bay, Wisconsin on March ５, 1901. He met my mother in
Rhinelander, Wisconsin while they both worked for Mr. Daniels who
owned the Daniels Paper Mill. They married in Portland, OR in 1930.
Dad did many things well and in the days of the Great Depression, a
man worked where he could for as long as the jobs lasted. He was a
private pilot in his spare time and loved to fly. So much so that
their home was always near an airport.
We three children were all born in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, from
1931 to 1934. Sometime in the late 30’s we moved to Inglewood,
Calif. Dad was an independent contractor building homes in the Los
Angeles area. Sometime in the late 30’s he built his family a two
bedroom home with a 2 car garage in what was then a rural area near
a small airport called Miner’s Field. Much later that small airport
became LAX .
My father was a fun loving man who loved his little family
dearly. Mom said they always had company and I remember dad playing
the piano and singing to us and with us on the player piano.
When he came home from work he would lift me up in the air and
call me his Monkey. I tell you this because these are the few
memories of a little girl that grew up without her loving
daddy.
Dad went to Wake Island in March, 1941 as a civilian carpenter
for the Morrison Knudsen Company, one of the companies that made up
Contractors Pacific Naval Air Bases who were building military
bases in the Pacific on the Islands of Cavite, Guam, Johnston,
Midway, Palmyra and Wake. His contract was for 9 months. If he
stayed to complete the 9 months, he not only would get a big bonus
but would be guaranteed a job with Morrison Knudsen for his
lifetime. This was important to men experiencing hard to find jobs
during the Great Depression. We expected him to be home for
Christmas. His last letters told of plans for arriving home, buying
Christmas presents for his children, promising his sweet wife all
the shoes she wanted and she could pick out the new car
they’d buy. He wrote to his wife every day describing his work and
the conditions on the tiny island as they improved. Even though
there was a danger in the air, his letters revealed that he would
stay to finish his contract commitment, confident that he would be
home before any hostile action between Japan and the USA---if that
should happen. He was to leave for home on December 23, 1941.
On a sleepy Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, the Japanese
staged a massive surprise attacked against the United States at
Pearl Harbor in Hawaii destroying and damaging many of the
warships. It was Monday December 8th on Wake Is., a
normal work-day due to the International Date Line. Within hours
Japanese attacked Wake Is by air. The battle of Wake Island is a
much documented battle. There were less than 500 Marines, only a
dozen Grumman Wildcat fighters and about 1200 civilians. This tiny
force repelled the first invasion of the Japanese Navy by sea but
was overwhelmed by much larger enemy forces and fatigue on December
23rd. After a gallant fight, the men Wake Island
surrender to the Japanese.
We were notified by telegram that Dad was presumed captured on
Wake by the Japanese and there was no further information. Mother
wrote many times seeking information of his physical condition and
his whereabouts, all to no avail. The authorities had no
information on any of the men. The Japanese government did not
answer their repeated requests and demands to account for the men
on the island.
It wasn’t until April 1944, over 3 years later that we received
the first of three very short letters from Dad from Fukuoka POW
Camp #1. He received at least two of mother’s letters. The war
ended in Aug 1945 after two Atomic bombs destroyed Hiroshima and
Nagasaki. Weeks later, our family had received no word of my
father’s whereabouts or if he was still alive or dead. Mother sent
many letters to the authorities searching for news.
Then the letter from the Department of the Navy came. It was
dated Oct 12, 1945 informing us of Dad’s death on March 21, 1945
and his ashes “placed in a memorial at Fukuoka, Japan.”
In the year 2000, mother was in her nineties living with my
sister, Harriet, in Southern California. I came to stay with mother
while my sister went on vacation. I was going through some old
papers when I came across that letter from the Navy. Mom was a good
secretary and saved carbon copies of all her correspondence with
the authorities from 1941 to well into the 50’s. She also saved all
of the newsletters from the Woman of Wake during those years
documenting the struggle to receive financial support for the
families and to receive those last paychecks and bonuses that
stopped in December 1941.
I was 66 years old and thought many times that I would like to
go to Wake Is and walked where Dad walked and even fly to Japan to
see where the POW camps were located. In the war years, I cried for
my father. I wanted him home cradling me with his big, strong
arms.
July 2000
At home now rereading the Navy’s letter, it was as if I had read
it for the first time. “…ashes placed in a memorial at Fukuoka,
Japan.” The letter was dated Oct 12, 1945. I was thinking “that’s
pretty quick to put up a memorial with everything else going on.”
Now I was determined to go to Fukuoka to see the memorial that
would give me closure with my father’s death. Wouldn’t it be nice
if I could find where Dad’s ashes lie so mother and my siblings
would at last know. This idea was never voiced in my family. It was
an unspoken longing in my heart to find the father I grew up
without.
But first I needed to find out exactly where the memorial was in
the city of Fukuoka. I immediately picked up the phone to call the
Japanese Consulate in Houston and was given Major Moran, who was
familiar with the Japanese city. Major Moran is an American
civilian working in the security force at the Consulate in Houston,
Texas. I told him about the Navy’s letter, that mother was in her
nineties and my plans to fly to Japan seeking closure. He assured
me there was no such memorial. The only memorial there was a stone
wall where the Doolittle pilots were shot. I told him, “then the
U.S. Navy lied to us and I want to know where my father’s ashes
are!” He said he would do everything he could to help me but it had
been a long time and the Japanese government has never been
cooperative with information about POWs. Our government was
concentrating on the MIA’s in Viet Nam and Korea. The books on WWII
POW’s were closed. Major Moran said he would try to get some
information from Japan and Washington but not to get my hopes
up.
Major Moran took to the internet and so did I. I found
information about an organization called Survivors of
Wake-Guam-Cavite . This was a group of civilian workers that
survived their ordeal as POWs. I wrote to them immediately asking
for any information about Peter W. Hansen or anyone who remembered
him. I contacted American Ex-Prisoners of War based in Arlington,
TX and received their MED SEARCH information. This was written by
M. D.s who were also POW and understood the effects of starvation
on the bodies organs and the illnesses it can cause over a
lifetime.
In October 2000 I started receiving letters from men of Wake.
Rodney Kephart, Frank Mace, J.O. Young, Joe Astorita, who made
sketches of the guards, shoes, camps, etc. were just some that I
made contact. Mr. Kephart and Mace wrote books that I devoured for
information of what happened to my father and his fellow POWs.
As I talked to each of these men who so gladly and freely told
me of their experiences and answered my questions, I began to learn
what happened to the men; when they left the island and where they
went. And each survivor said they remembered my father. They knew
his occupation and home town but very little else. Early in 1942
all able bodied military men and all but 350 civilians were
transported to Shanghi. In October, 1942 a group of about 250
civilians were transported to Japan to build a dam at Sasabo. The
remaining 98 were later executed on the Island. Each of the men of
whom I spoke, claimed my dad was with their group.
Their books and many others I’ve since read about POW’s of the
Japanese told of the horror of their existence; the beatings, their
living conditions, food, the freezing cold with no winter clothing,
the illnesses, lack of medicines and treatment etc. Before this
time, I had no knowledge of the cruelty they suffered for so long.
I was horrified at what they went through. What determination and
sheer will these men had just to survive each day. God made strong
bodies to endure such abuse and yet live on for many years.
Most of the surviving men were in there early twenties when they
went to Wake. My father was 40 years old. That may have been a
factor in his death although he died just 5 months before the war
ended.
June Fabian, the Survivor’s group long time secretary, sent me
excerpts from the diary kept by Lee W. Wilcox listing the deaths at
Camp #18 at Sasbo as well as a list of deaths by Rev. Oreal
Johnson. June is the widow of a survivor and knows the history of
most of the men.
In September, I contacted Major Moran to see if there was some
news. He sent me an article stating the Australian War Graves Group
filled two urns with POW ashes recovered from “two of the camps of
war centered at Fukuoka” One contained ashes of 200 British POWs,
50 American and 20 Netherlanders. That urn is in the United Kingdom
section of the Commonwealth War Cemetery near Yokohama. The other
urn, containing mostly American ashes, was sent to Jefferson
Barracks National Cemetery in St. Louis, Missouri.
A few days into October, I wrote to Jefferson Barracks on a
Friday inquiring if my father’s ashes could possibly be there. The
following Tuesday, I put dinner on the table and for some reason
excused myself to check my email. An e-mail was waiting for me from
Randy Watkins of Jefferson Barracks saying my father was indeed
there! “OH MY GOD, I HAD FOUND HIM! I FOUND MY DAD!” I was so
excited I could hardly read the message! There were two pictures
attached; the picture of the large headstone listing 100 men from
different nations and a close-up of Dad’s name. I still cry when I
think of seeing ‘Peter W. Hansen, Civ’ on the screen.
After 55 years of not even knowing what happened to him, where
he was, how he died, we found his ashes and they were in the United
States! It was a miracle. I quickly called my sister, knowing Mom
was there and my brother was visiting that week. And I immediately
forwarded the email and pictures so they could see them too. It was
a complete surprise to them since I didn’t tell them I was even
searching. They were a bit stunned. I was anxious to get mother’s
reaction which came a few days later. Mom was glad that Dad’s ashes
were in the States but it had been too many years. She had no
desire to visit the grave.
Although my family had not moved from the address that was
listed on my father’s official records, we were never notified of
his remains being re-interned in US soil.
In early November 2000, I went to St. Louis to my father’s
grave. It was a beautiful autumn day. I sat on the ground and just
wept over my daddy’s grave. Those years forever gone. How much I
missed him. My life would have been so different had he returned.
How different? We’ll never know but I can’t help but feel it would
have been more complete. It’s strange how the pain of grief can
hurt so deeply after so many years. It’s as if the grief were
fresh---as if he died just yesterday. The tears of a 10 yr old were
shed freely. I cried for the good years that might have been, I
cried for the pain of separation and the horror he lived surviving
each day with hope of returning to us--- hanging on until he could
hang on no longer.
To my surprise, the discovery of Dad’s ashes did not bring the
closure I was seeking. My search was not over. Now I wanted to know
what happened to dad from the time he left Wake in Oct 1942 until
he died in March 1945. Where did he go ? what did he do? What
caused his death? I wanted the truth, even if the details of POW
life were too horrible to bare. I wanted the truth and my brother
wanted to know too. The answers I found through Major Moran’s
contact in Japan with a American teaching English living near
Fukuoka. He had heard about the POW camps and started some
research. Through my contact with Wes Injerd, and his research into
the National Archives, he found the dates and places Dad had been.
He also provided me with Dad’s death certificate in both Japanese
and English. Most of all, he found an affidavit written by an
American doctor, Major Walter Kostecki, at Fukuoka Camp #1 who
documented the real reason for his death. Wes had lived in Japan
for 26 years and had a lovely family with four children growing up
fast.
Meanwhile, I made several inquires into the National Archives
with no success. Then I was notified that there was a complete
war-trial transcript of the Japanese soldier that was responsible
for my father’s death.!!! A WAR CRIMES TRIAL??? Again, I was in
shock at what I found, Our family did not know of the trial of
Masato Hada. There was even a picture of him in the transcript.
Hada was tried and found guilty of war crimes against sick and
weakened POWs including withholding medications, beating them and
other heinous acts causing their deaths. The transcript brought out
all the details.
So now I knew the truth, the horrible truth about what happened
to my gentle father, whose only crime was loving his young family
enough to go to a tiny island in the Pacific to work for their
welfare. He stayed on that island with the promise that if
completed his 9 month contract honorably, he would not be without
work again.
On November 11, 2002, my sister, Harriet and brother, John, and
I traveled to St. Louis, MO to attend the annual Remembrance Day
ceremony. It is held at the mass grave site of 100 heroes who died
while in captivity during the period July 1944 through April 1945
in a Japanese Prison Camp or camps, in the Fukuoka Region of the
Island of Kyushu. On the 28th of September 1949, 59
United States Soldiers, Sailors and Marines and 12 civilians; and
29 men of the British, Dutch and Australian military, were
re-interned at Jefferson Barracks Nation Cemetery. A military man
from each country laid a wreathe on the large, flat, granite stone
and I laid a wreathe for my father and all the civilians. We
attending on this special day were standing in the gap for those
loved ones living too far away to attend or those who did not know
where there loved ones were. It was very meaningful and clearly
honored these men who paid the ultimate price for their
countries.
At last, I found closure.
Forgiveness Requires Great Strength and
Compassion
Wes Injerd
I
first came in contact with Mary-Anne in July of 2000 through an
email from Major Moran. He told of a daughter searching for her
father who died in Fukuoka during WWII. I immediately went to work
searching for the name "Peter Hansen" in my growing collection of
archives, and the rest of the story is history. It was because of
Mary-Anne's search that I dedicated my own website to her
father.
http://home.comcast.net/~winjerd/POWCamp1.htm
I had mixed emotions as I worked on the Hansen story--
angry that the Japanese had done this, yet understanding the
wartime conditions in Japan; sad at what had happened to the Hansen
family, yet happy that the truth had finally been discovered. It
was hard for me to conceive that the very people among whom I had
been living for the past 26 years could be capable of such inhumane
behavior, especially toward someone who wasn't even in the military
and not even directly fighting against them.
This is perhaps one of the hardest things to understand
in life -- Why has this terrible event happened to me? Why is life
so unfair? What did I do to deserve this?
Mary-Anne surely felt this a hundred times as she read
document after document to discover the truth about her father's
death. Yet she never let it make her bitter toward the Japanese,
even though all of the "why's" were left unanswered.
It requires great strength and compassion to forgive
offenses against those dear to yourself. As a Christian, I believe
this is one of the greatest ways to heal the wounds of the past --
through love and forgiveness, just as Christ forgave those who
committed the greatest offense of all against Himself.
My hope and prayer is that the people of Japan and the
United States will learn this vital element, the application of
which will greatly speed up the healing process and real
closure.
Mr. Hansen with
children
(Mary-Anne, Harriet and John)
One
daughter's trip to Japan
Kinue Tokudome
Mary-Anne Stickney recently
visited the site of Fukuoka POW camp #1 in Japan for the first
time. Her father, Peter Hansen, was an American civilian worker
captured by the Japanese military on Wake Island in December of
1941. He was brought to Japan and made to work for dam construction
in Sasebo. He almost survived the war but died on March 21, 1945. A
Japanese soldier who was responsible for his death was tried
and found guilty of war crimes against sick and weakened POWs
including withholding medications, beating them, and other heinous
acts.
When Mary-Anne visited the
site of the POW camp in Fukuoka where her father died, there was
nothing to remind people that a POW camp once stood there and that
147 POWs died there. It was just a small empty lot in a wooded
area.
Mary-Anne made a
cross with twigs she picked up and placed a little flower she had
brought with her in front of it. No memorial or a plaque... Only a
little twig cross she herself made... That was how she paid tribute
to her father exactly 63 years to the date of his death in
Japan.
Mary-Anne
Stickney at the site of the former POW camp
where her father died
(photo taken by Wes Injerd who guided Mary-Anne's visit to Kyushu,
Japan)
She also went to the hill overlooking
the port of Moji where tens of thousands of Allied POWs arrived
after being transported on Hellships. Again, nothing to remind of
the horrific voyages that POWs endured.
The port of Moji today
where tens of thousands of POWs arrived during WWII
to become slave laborers (photo by Wes
Injerd)
Mary-Anne
shared with me her reflection on her visit to the place where her
father lived and died as a POW.
I am glad I went. No
it wasn't all sad. I was in awe that I was there in Japan
where my dad was. To be walking on the same ground where
he walked. Just mostly quietly absorbing the air and the
feeling his presence and a sense of wonder how anyone could
have survived.
I
certainly shed tears at the dam as I thought of the icy winds with
few clothes, the empty stomachs, extreme hours of hard labor and
the beatings. How did they endure this day after day after
day? Then of course under the pines, knowing he died on
that day 63 years before. He held on until he could no
longer.
But
we can rejoice that my dad is in heaven walking with Jesus and
singing praises with the angels! That's the real
victory, the triumph.
The
other sense of my trip was to be with the Japanese people. I
have never held any animosity against the people. -- The Japanese
government and military, however, is another story. I saw more
sameness than difference between our cultures.
An insightful lesson.
Mary-Anne
touches the Soto Dam built by slave labor by POWs including
her father. (Photo by Wes
Injerd)
Mary-Anne's trip to Japan is a painful reminder that the United
States and Japan need to start working together to properly
remember and honor those POWs who had to endure the tragic chapter
in our shared history. It is unworthy of our close relationship
that the history of American POWs is virtually unknown in Japan
today. It is unworthy of our friendship that the United States
allows that situation to continue.
Dr. Lester Tenney has already
proposed an honorable resolution--creating a foundation by the
Japanese government and the Japanese companies that enslaved POWs
during WWII. Such a foundation can invite American ex-POWs
and their families to Japan, just as the Japanese government has
been inviting ex-POWs and families of other former Allied
countries. A joint research on the POW history can be started
so that Japanese people will learn about what took place at nearly
130 POW camps scattered throughout Japan during WWII. People
from both countries may eventually build a memorial on the hill of
Moji someday.
Such an
effort could go a long way to heal old wounds and to bring people
of the United States and Japan closer.
(posted on Ausgut15, 2008)
