Post by blackcrowheart on Dec 18, 2005 17:30:51 GMT -5
Interview with an Elder
Creek veteran on his time as a POW and why he believes spirituality saved his life
TULSA OK
Special to the Native American Times 12/15/2005
Editor’s Note: Phillip Coon is an 86-year-old member of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation. A World War Two veteran, he is a former POW and was on the infamous Death March from Bataan in 1942. Today he lives in Sapulpa. Coon recently spoke to Samara Stephenson, a Tulsa-based writer.
SS: Tell me about when you were a child growing up.
Philip Coon: I went to an orphan school for boys in Sapulpa…my mother died when I was in the first grade. It was just me and my sister after that, along with my dad. He could survive all right, just him and all, but he sent me away, and my sister to an orphan school for girls in Eufaula. It was a home for me starting in 1928. There were other Indian boys there. We played around together. We were all in the same predicament, though most of the boys had lost their fathers rather than their mother. There were no visitations, no trips home.
SS:: When your mom passed away you lost your whole family then didn’t you? What was the cause of your mom’s death? Were you angry with the situation?
PC: Yes, I did not see my sister for the next four or five years. My mom died of tuberculosis. There were no medicines available for her. She went pretty fast. I made the best of the situation.
SS: I know that you later volunteered for the military and that your son has also done the same and now your grandson is also in the military. What sort of a man was your father to raise you men to all be so dedicated to serving the country?
PC: Sad to say my father was an alcoholic, pretty bad, but my friends in the orphan school and I all grew up together. Our graduation picture is in the Historical Museum in Sapulpa. Later in the ninth grade, we went on to high school at Haskell School in Lawrence, Kansas. It was my first co-ed school. It was both a vocational school and a school for academics. I didn’t care much for the reading and writing stuff so they put me in “trade finding” my first year. That year I went through welding shop, shoe shop/upholstery, carpentry/wood working and paint shop. I had done some wood working at Sapulpa too. I made a cedar chest while I was there. I still have that cedar chest. It was about 18x8 inches. One leg is broken and I lost the little piece. I fell in love with the shoe cobbling. I didn’t care for welding, too much heat. I liked carpentry and paint shop too. I graduated in 1941. I joined the National Guard there along with four or five other boys from the school…we were involved in World War Two by then. I got my stripes as a sharp shooter. I really loved the machine gun and was good with my marksmanship. Eventually though I ended up in a POW camp in Honshu, Japan. It was funny; the Red Cross did an airlift for us and sent [us] shoes last…they were all about a size 12, way too big for the Japanese or for us, especially me. I wear a nine...I worked fixing everyone’s shoes while I was there. I started taking a pair of shoes apart. I had learned a little Japanese, and they kept saying, “I don’t know, I don’t know,” when they watched me dismantle that shoe. I would say “mate, mate,” which means “wait, wait.” In three or four days I had cut that shoe down and made it into a size nine. I put it right on and wore it. I was so excited. I set the other one up. My excitement was too great and I ended up leaving the shoes there because we were leaving. While we were in Honshu, we heard the bomb when they dropped it in the south. There were many nationalities there in the POW camp, Black Dutch, French Moroccans, British, Irish, many people.
SS: What was it like being a prisoner of war? How did the Japanese treat you?
PC: It was hard being a prisoner, they were really mean. They had no [concern for anybody]. We were made to dig big square holes and roll…bodies into them. The men were buried with the clothes that they had. They had already suffered a lot and were just thrown in like wood. The smell would make you sick. The humans smelled like dead animals. Somebody was praying for me or I would not be alive. We returned to Yokohama and there was an airlift, two cargo planes. They brought food, cigarettes, dominoes, cards, candy and such. Some of the Dutch were in such a rush to get at the food that they were tearing the boxes open and ended up wasting a lot. We stayed there two weeks longer, even after the airlift. We loaded men suffering from malaria by stretchers to the trains so they could get some treatment. They had high fevers and would talk and just say whatever was on their minds. They had a 50/50 chance of survival if they got treatment. I never heard for sure if they were ok, but at least they got to go for treatment. I survived because people prayed for me. I was saved at the first Baptist church of Lawrence, Kansas. I was saved and became a Christian.
SS: What was your religion before that?
PC: We followed the old ways. I remember the Ribbon Dance. All the women would tie ribbons on in some way to their clothes and they would dance. It was sort of a one-two hop kind of a dance. It made the ribbons flutter. My aunt danced. It was real colorful and beautiful. It was a Creek celebration - Woman’s Day. She had a hairpin like a comb with ribbons on it too. I will always remember the way the ribbons fluttered. They don’t do that much anymore. Some try to copy it, the old ways, but it is not the same. Too commercial.
SS: Tell me about your life once you returned to the states.
PC: We came back by way of Hawaii on ship. Entered in Frisco Bay. I was pretty sick. My stomach was all messed up. My intestines were stuck together. They gave me shots. I stayed put, took my medication. Pills kept me going. I go every month still for a shot to keep my resistance up. I got malaria too. I’ve had all the jungle I ever want. Lots of the guys didn’t take their medication and they drank too much. They aren’t here now. I went to Texas to look up the father of the girl that has become my wife. He said she was in Tulsa and gave me her phone number. I called her right then from the pay phone. She didn’t believe her father had given me the number and wanted to talk to him. I came back to Tulsa and married her back in 1947. She did not write me while I was gone because she knew I was overseas. We had two children, a boy and a girl. Mike is still alive and has his son. They are both in the military too.
SS: How did you make your living once your health returned?
PC: They put me through job training for GI’s. I became a sheet rocker and finish painter. I didn’t want to be stuck doing prep work, so I worked real hard to be able to put that enamel on just right. It’s tricky. If you aren’t careful it will hang down like Niagara Falls…That malaria left me sick for my whole life, but somebody was praying for me all the time. I have learned worry for today only and let tomorrow take care of it’s self. If you want I will practice my Japanese for you for when we talk again. [Counts to ten in Japanese.] I learned Japanese by listening and still remember many words.
Editor's Note: Coon and his wife are still married and share a home together.
Creek veteran on his time as a POW and why he believes spirituality saved his life
TULSA OK
Special to the Native American Times 12/15/2005
Editor’s Note: Phillip Coon is an 86-year-old member of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation. A World War Two veteran, he is a former POW and was on the infamous Death March from Bataan in 1942. Today he lives in Sapulpa. Coon recently spoke to Samara Stephenson, a Tulsa-based writer.
SS: Tell me about when you were a child growing up.
Philip Coon: I went to an orphan school for boys in Sapulpa…my mother died when I was in the first grade. It was just me and my sister after that, along with my dad. He could survive all right, just him and all, but he sent me away, and my sister to an orphan school for girls in Eufaula. It was a home for me starting in 1928. There were other Indian boys there. We played around together. We were all in the same predicament, though most of the boys had lost their fathers rather than their mother. There were no visitations, no trips home.
SS:: When your mom passed away you lost your whole family then didn’t you? What was the cause of your mom’s death? Were you angry with the situation?
PC: Yes, I did not see my sister for the next four or five years. My mom died of tuberculosis. There were no medicines available for her. She went pretty fast. I made the best of the situation.
SS: I know that you later volunteered for the military and that your son has also done the same and now your grandson is also in the military. What sort of a man was your father to raise you men to all be so dedicated to serving the country?
PC: Sad to say my father was an alcoholic, pretty bad, but my friends in the orphan school and I all grew up together. Our graduation picture is in the Historical Museum in Sapulpa. Later in the ninth grade, we went on to high school at Haskell School in Lawrence, Kansas. It was my first co-ed school. It was both a vocational school and a school for academics. I didn’t care much for the reading and writing stuff so they put me in “trade finding” my first year. That year I went through welding shop, shoe shop/upholstery, carpentry/wood working and paint shop. I had done some wood working at Sapulpa too. I made a cedar chest while I was there. I still have that cedar chest. It was about 18x8 inches. One leg is broken and I lost the little piece. I fell in love with the shoe cobbling. I didn’t care for welding, too much heat. I liked carpentry and paint shop too. I graduated in 1941. I joined the National Guard there along with four or five other boys from the school…we were involved in World War Two by then. I got my stripes as a sharp shooter. I really loved the machine gun and was good with my marksmanship. Eventually though I ended up in a POW camp in Honshu, Japan. It was funny; the Red Cross did an airlift for us and sent [us] shoes last…they were all about a size 12, way too big for the Japanese or for us, especially me. I wear a nine...I worked fixing everyone’s shoes while I was there. I started taking a pair of shoes apart. I had learned a little Japanese, and they kept saying, “I don’t know, I don’t know,” when they watched me dismantle that shoe. I would say “mate, mate,” which means “wait, wait.” In three or four days I had cut that shoe down and made it into a size nine. I put it right on and wore it. I was so excited. I set the other one up. My excitement was too great and I ended up leaving the shoes there because we were leaving. While we were in Honshu, we heard the bomb when they dropped it in the south. There were many nationalities there in the POW camp, Black Dutch, French Moroccans, British, Irish, many people.
SS: What was it like being a prisoner of war? How did the Japanese treat you?
PC: It was hard being a prisoner, they were really mean. They had no [concern for anybody]. We were made to dig big square holes and roll…bodies into them. The men were buried with the clothes that they had. They had already suffered a lot and were just thrown in like wood. The smell would make you sick. The humans smelled like dead animals. Somebody was praying for me or I would not be alive. We returned to Yokohama and there was an airlift, two cargo planes. They brought food, cigarettes, dominoes, cards, candy and such. Some of the Dutch were in such a rush to get at the food that they were tearing the boxes open and ended up wasting a lot. We stayed there two weeks longer, even after the airlift. We loaded men suffering from malaria by stretchers to the trains so they could get some treatment. They had high fevers and would talk and just say whatever was on their minds. They had a 50/50 chance of survival if they got treatment. I never heard for sure if they were ok, but at least they got to go for treatment. I survived because people prayed for me. I was saved at the first Baptist church of Lawrence, Kansas. I was saved and became a Christian.
SS: What was your religion before that?
PC: We followed the old ways. I remember the Ribbon Dance. All the women would tie ribbons on in some way to their clothes and they would dance. It was sort of a one-two hop kind of a dance. It made the ribbons flutter. My aunt danced. It was real colorful and beautiful. It was a Creek celebration - Woman’s Day. She had a hairpin like a comb with ribbons on it too. I will always remember the way the ribbons fluttered. They don’t do that much anymore. Some try to copy it, the old ways, but it is not the same. Too commercial.
SS: Tell me about your life once you returned to the states.
PC: We came back by way of Hawaii on ship. Entered in Frisco Bay. I was pretty sick. My stomach was all messed up. My intestines were stuck together. They gave me shots. I stayed put, took my medication. Pills kept me going. I go every month still for a shot to keep my resistance up. I got malaria too. I’ve had all the jungle I ever want. Lots of the guys didn’t take their medication and they drank too much. They aren’t here now. I went to Texas to look up the father of the girl that has become my wife. He said she was in Tulsa and gave me her phone number. I called her right then from the pay phone. She didn’t believe her father had given me the number and wanted to talk to him. I came back to Tulsa and married her back in 1947. She did not write me while I was gone because she knew I was overseas. We had two children, a boy and a girl. Mike is still alive and has his son. They are both in the military too.
SS: How did you make your living once your health returned?
PC: They put me through job training for GI’s. I became a sheet rocker and finish painter. I didn’t want to be stuck doing prep work, so I worked real hard to be able to put that enamel on just right. It’s tricky. If you aren’t careful it will hang down like Niagara Falls…That malaria left me sick for my whole life, but somebody was praying for me all the time. I have learned worry for today only and let tomorrow take care of it’s self. If you want I will practice my Japanese for you for when we talk again. [Counts to ten in Japanese.] I learned Japanese by listening and still remember many words.
Editor's Note: Coon and his wife are still married and share a home together.