Editor's note: John Waelti's series on the American Atomic Veterans continues with today's column.
Sgt. Joe O'Donnell, a Marine photographer, was assigned to document the effects of American air raids. Traveling across post-war Japan, he took photos of destruction and horribly burned survivors. Upon honorable discharge from the Corps in 1946, hoping to forget those haunting memories, he placed 300 negatives in a trunk, never intending to open it again.
O'Donnell continued his career as a photographer with the U.S. Information Agency.
Frequently with the president in his Oval Office, O'Donnell wanted to ask Truman about his decision to drop the atomic bombs, but always held back.
In October 1950, O'Donnell accompanied the President to Wake Island where Truman was to confer with MacArthur on the Korean War. On a walk along the beach, as Truman paused to urinate, O'Donnell says this was his chance. "Mr. President, I was a Marine photographer assigned to Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the war, and I often wondered if you had any second thoughts about dropping the bomb on those cities."
According to O'Donnell, Truman's answer was quick and loud, if somewhat cryptic. "Hell, yes. I've had a lot of misgivings about it, and I inherited a lot more too."
That's not to say that Truman would have done it differently. As explained in my column of April 8, Truman's options were limited. Yet, O'Donnell was relieved that the president apparently had some misgivings.
June 1950 - the atomic age was but 5 years old when America, under the aegis of the United Nations, found itself in an old-fashioned ground war in Korea. It was a summer of ignominious retreat and defeat, and a desperate stand at the Pusan Perimeter to keep from being pushed into the sea. In September, the Inchon landing engineered by MacArthur was successful beyond any reasonable expectations and all but destroyed the North Korean Army. It was thus that, full of optimism, MacArthur and Truman met that October at Wake Island.
Truman asked MacArthur about the possibility of the Chinese entering the war if U.N. forces pushed into North Korea. MacArthur assured Truman that the Chinese would not enter the war, but if they did, he would slaughter them. Even as they spoke, Chinese General Lin Piao had already moved 120,000 troops from Manchuria across the Yalu into North Korea, undetected by vaunted American air surveillance. Subsequently, MacArthur pushed north in a rush for the Yalu River that bordered Manchuria. American boys were expected to "be home by Christmas."
If the Inchon landing of 1950 was one of MacArthur's finest hours, the winter of 1950-51 was his worst nightmare. By November, General Piao had 300,000 Chinese across the Yalu. Even after capturing Chinese prisoners, the American high command remained in denial. They believed it impossible that whole divisions could have moved undetected across the Yalu.
The Chinese, led by battle-tested officers and NCOs who had routed Chiang Kai Shek's better-equipped forces, had learned to evade superior air power. They moved by night, used thick forests and deep valleys to good advantage and, with iron discipline, froze in their tracks at the sound of American airplanes - any man violating instructions was shot. Western powers habitually underestimate the resourcefulness of Asian armies, especially when fighting on their home territory.
American and South Korean forces with extended supply lines, ill-equipped for the harsh Korean winter, were trapped, taken totally by surprise by tough Chinese troops accustomed to moving by foot over rough terrain. American and South Korean units that weren't totally destroyed had to fight their way back south.
The point here is that, with defeat, MacArthur wanted to carry the war to China, including using atomic bombs on the Mainland. Truman refused. Having used the bomb to bring one war to a quick, if deadly, end, he was not about to use the bomb to escalate another. America was not ready for war with China, and Truman would not risk escalating to all out war that might extend to the Soviet Union. His friction with MacArthur continued until Truman relieved the general of command.
Fast-forward to 1989 - Joe O'Donnell retired from the U.S. Information Agency with a medical disability. He remained obsessed by memories of the devastation and wounded survivors he had witnessed in Japan.
O'Donnell opened the trunk he had never intended to open again. Incredibly, those negatives had survived cold, wet basements and hot, humid attics, and remained in excellent condition after nearly a half century.
Those negatives brought back haunting memories of burned flesh and cries for help. He had nightmares and was unable to sleep. Perhaps it was an attempt to exorcise those memories. He published a book, "Japan 1945, a U.S. Marine's Photographs From Ground Zero."
His photos were exhibited in museums in the U.S., Europe, and Japan as part of atomic exhibitions. O'Donnell observed that, even in Japan, no one pointed an accusing finger at him; there seemed to be a common understanding among all observers of what those photos revealed - the imperative to work for a world in which these destructive weapons are never used again.
It seems that anything and everything to do with the atomic bomb is controversial, including O'Donnell's photos. A 1995 Smithsonian exhibit commemorating the end of WWII omitted his photos because of protests that the exhibit neglected Japanese aggression, and the role of the bomb in saving American lives.
O'Donnell himself became an object of controversy. In his later years he claimed credit for some photos that were not his. His harshest critics assert that this was deliberate deception, his defenders that this was the result of senility and severe dementia.
O'Donnell attributed his ill health to radiation exposure from the atomic sites. Dead in 2007, with a cloud hovering over his reputation, O'Donnell was in his own way another atomic victim.
Next week: Continued atomic fallout, the fall of J. Robert Oppenheimer.
- Monroe resident John
Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
Sgt. Joe O'Donnell, a Marine photographer, was assigned to document the effects of American air raids. Traveling across post-war Japan, he took photos of destruction and horribly burned survivors. Upon honorable discharge from the Corps in 1946, hoping to forget those haunting memories, he placed 300 negatives in a trunk, never intending to open it again.
O'Donnell continued his career as a photographer with the U.S. Information Agency.
Frequently with the president in his Oval Office, O'Donnell wanted to ask Truman about his decision to drop the atomic bombs, but always held back.
In October 1950, O'Donnell accompanied the President to Wake Island where Truman was to confer with MacArthur on the Korean War. On a walk along the beach, as Truman paused to urinate, O'Donnell says this was his chance. "Mr. President, I was a Marine photographer assigned to Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the war, and I often wondered if you had any second thoughts about dropping the bomb on those cities."
According to O'Donnell, Truman's answer was quick and loud, if somewhat cryptic. "Hell, yes. I've had a lot of misgivings about it, and I inherited a lot more too."
That's not to say that Truman would have done it differently. As explained in my column of April 8, Truman's options were limited. Yet, O'Donnell was relieved that the president apparently had some misgivings.
June 1950 - the atomic age was but 5 years old when America, under the aegis of the United Nations, found itself in an old-fashioned ground war in Korea. It was a summer of ignominious retreat and defeat, and a desperate stand at the Pusan Perimeter to keep from being pushed into the sea. In September, the Inchon landing engineered by MacArthur was successful beyond any reasonable expectations and all but destroyed the North Korean Army. It was thus that, full of optimism, MacArthur and Truman met that October at Wake Island.
Truman asked MacArthur about the possibility of the Chinese entering the war if U.N. forces pushed into North Korea. MacArthur assured Truman that the Chinese would not enter the war, but if they did, he would slaughter them. Even as they spoke, Chinese General Lin Piao had already moved 120,000 troops from Manchuria across the Yalu into North Korea, undetected by vaunted American air surveillance. Subsequently, MacArthur pushed north in a rush for the Yalu River that bordered Manchuria. American boys were expected to "be home by Christmas."
If the Inchon landing of 1950 was one of MacArthur's finest hours, the winter of 1950-51 was his worst nightmare. By November, General Piao had 300,000 Chinese across the Yalu. Even after capturing Chinese prisoners, the American high command remained in denial. They believed it impossible that whole divisions could have moved undetected across the Yalu.
The Chinese, led by battle-tested officers and NCOs who had routed Chiang Kai Shek's better-equipped forces, had learned to evade superior air power. They moved by night, used thick forests and deep valleys to good advantage and, with iron discipline, froze in their tracks at the sound of American airplanes - any man violating instructions was shot. Western powers habitually underestimate the resourcefulness of Asian armies, especially when fighting on their home territory.
American and South Korean forces with extended supply lines, ill-equipped for the harsh Korean winter, were trapped, taken totally by surprise by tough Chinese troops accustomed to moving by foot over rough terrain. American and South Korean units that weren't totally destroyed had to fight their way back south.
The point here is that, with defeat, MacArthur wanted to carry the war to China, including using atomic bombs on the Mainland. Truman refused. Having used the bomb to bring one war to a quick, if deadly, end, he was not about to use the bomb to escalate another. America was not ready for war with China, and Truman would not risk escalating to all out war that might extend to the Soviet Union. His friction with MacArthur continued until Truman relieved the general of command.
Fast-forward to 1989 - Joe O'Donnell retired from the U.S. Information Agency with a medical disability. He remained obsessed by memories of the devastation and wounded survivors he had witnessed in Japan.
O'Donnell opened the trunk he had never intended to open again. Incredibly, those negatives had survived cold, wet basements and hot, humid attics, and remained in excellent condition after nearly a half century.
Those negatives brought back haunting memories of burned flesh and cries for help. He had nightmares and was unable to sleep. Perhaps it was an attempt to exorcise those memories. He published a book, "Japan 1945, a U.S. Marine's Photographs From Ground Zero."
His photos were exhibited in museums in the U.S., Europe, and Japan as part of atomic exhibitions. O'Donnell observed that, even in Japan, no one pointed an accusing finger at him; there seemed to be a common understanding among all observers of what those photos revealed - the imperative to work for a world in which these destructive weapons are never used again.
It seems that anything and everything to do with the atomic bomb is controversial, including O'Donnell's photos. A 1995 Smithsonian exhibit commemorating the end of WWII omitted his photos because of protests that the exhibit neglected Japanese aggression, and the role of the bomb in saving American lives.
O'Donnell himself became an object of controversy. In his later years he claimed credit for some photos that were not his. His harshest critics assert that this was deliberate deception, his defenders that this was the result of senility and severe dementia.
O'Donnell attributed his ill health to radiation exposure from the atomic sites. Dead in 2007, with a cloud hovering over his reputation, O'Donnell was in his own way another atomic victim.
Next week: Continued atomic fallout, the fall of J. Robert Oppenheimer.
- Monroe resident John
Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
