ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
ISSUES & ANALYSIS
August 14, 2005
NEWSWATCH
Also in this section:
Editorials and Commentary
INSIDE: University City man’s dad helped break the
news to the world of Japan’s surrender in WWII.
Page B5.
Dad broke news of Japan’s surrender
University City man treasures father’s letter detailing
his worldwide scoop as an Armed Forces Radio
broadcaster on Guam.
By HARRY LEVINS
Post-Dispatch Senior Writer
An architect in University City has a family stake in
Sunday’s 60th anniversary of V-J Day, the day
Japan threw in the towel to end World War II.
In the home office of the architect, Peter Green, sit
six thick ring-bound notebooks- They’re filled with
the wartime letters of his father, Marine Pfc.
Benjamin Green.
And in a letter written from Guam on Aug. 14, 1945,
the elder Green tells his family that he scooped the
world on getting out the big news of Japan’s
surrender.
Ben Green died in 1976 at age 68. In looking back,
his son said last week, “My father told lots of stories
from the war. But the stories he told were the funny
stories. The only way I found about this story was by
reading the letters.”
The letter about the surrender scoop is typed
entirely in upper-case letters, with lots of ellipses
Stead of periods. In those days, that was the style
for radio scripts — and the senior Green was writing
his letter from WXLI, the Armed Forces Radio
station on Guam.
As a civilian in Chicago, Green had produced and
directed radio dramas. As a Marine on Guam, he
was, in effect, the assistant manager of the radio
station.
And in mid-August 1945, everybody at the station
was on pins and needles. The United States had
dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima on Aug. 6
and a second on Nagasaki three days later. Now,
the world was waiting for Japan to call it quits.
On the afternoon of Aug. 14, Green dispatched one
of his reporters—an Army soldier known as Kani
Evans— to the nearby headquarters of Adm.
Chester Nimitz, the Navy’s commander-in-chief
Pacific, or CincPac.
In the letter home, Green wrote that Evans “had just
given me a story about a B-29 attack, and I was
preparing to put it on the air when the phone rang
again. It was Kani out of breath with the Domei
flash.”
Domei was the Japanese national news agency. Its
dispatches got careful scrutiny at CincPac
headquarters. The one that excited Evans was
apparently the dispatch quoted later in the Post-
Dispatch: “An imperial message accepting the
Potsdam proclamation will be forthcoming soon.”
At a meeting the previous month in Potsdam,
Germany, the leaders of the United States, Britain
and the Soviet Union had called on the Japanese to
surrender or face ruin.
In Guam, Green instantly grasped the import of the
Domei dispatch. His letter continues:
“We slapped it on the air and then at 4 p.m., two
minutes later, took short wave from San Francisco
pointing out to our listeners that San Francisco didn’
t have the story they had just heard over WXLI.”
The younger Green explained that the “short wave
from San Francisco” referred to a short¬wave radio
network that linked Armed Forces Radio outlets. He
was uncertain about the reference to “our listeners.”
But he’s positive that his father was the first
journalist anywhere to get out the word that Japan
was giving up. Sixty years ago, his father felt the
same way.
In the letter, he says the Associated Press did, too:
“AP credited the Guam radio with making a flash
announcement here, which you may have read or
heard repeated in the States. That was us!”
The younger Green has finished a book built
around his father’s letters. It’s titled “Dad’s War with
the United States Marines,” and it will be published
later this month by the Seaboard Press as a 282-
page trade paperback.

Critics' praise for
Dad's War with the United States Marines
"Sure to inspire the reader to thoughtful reflection given
current demands on the American military arising from the
'war on terrorism,' Dad's War with The United States
Marines' is very highly recommended to all general readers
and a welcome addition to the growing library of military
memoirs and biographies."
–James A. Cox, Midwest Book Review (Oregon, WI USA)
"An architect in University City has a family stake in
Sunday's 60th anniversary of V-J Day, the day Japan threw
in the towel to end World War II. In the home office of the
architect, Peter Green, sit six thick ring-bound notebooks-
They're filled with the wartime letters of his father, Marine
Pfc. Benjamin Green. And in a letter written from Guam on
Aug. 14, 1945, the elder Green tells his family that he
scooped the world on getting out the big news of Japan's
surrender."
–Harry Levins, St. Louis Post Dispatch
(on the 60th anniversary of V-J Day,
August 14, 2005)
“This highly recommended read places the operation of a
wartime AFRS Pacific Ocean Network outlet in the context
of the family story of Ben Green, plucked from his senior
radio advertising industry job in Chicago and going through
Marine bootcamp before becoming 'the highest ranking
private on Guam' and running WXLI.”
–David Ricquish, Chairman, Radio Heritage Foundation,
Wellington, New Zealand
Return here for more news and reviews of Dad's War with
the United States Marines.

ORDER NOW

The title salutes Ben Green’s record as a Sgt. Bilko of his times — a quick-
thinking, fast-talking wheeler-dealer. In fact, on Guam, he talked himself out of an
infantry security unit and into the cushier job at the radio station.
In the book, Peter Green says that several hours passed be¬tween his father’s
flash and the word that older Americans still recall —CBS reporter Webley
Edwards’ broadcast from CincPac headquarters.
At 6 p.m. on Aug. 14, President Harry S Truman made a terse announcement that
Japan was quitting. But somehow, word of the surrender — or least rumors to that
effect — got to St. Louis in the early hours of Aug. 14.
That evening, the Post-Dispatch put out an extra edition. The extra reported that
on Hill, the old Ruggieri’s Restaurant had closed as usual at I am. Tuesday —and
had re-opened later, when word came in. The story says, “Early celebrators were
served with drinks on the house.”
As the day wore on, spirits rose higher and higher. The Post-Dispatch pinpointed
Olive Street between Eighth and Ninth streets as “the center of downtown
merrymaking.” A photo from that block shows a snowstorm of paper falling from
office windows.
But on Guam, Ben Green was too tuckered to party. After all, he was 37—no
youngster. And he’d been keyed up for days, waiting for news of the surrender.
“I’m dead tired,” he writes in the letter, “even though I managed seven hours’ sleep
last night. I need 24.”
The letter was written around midnight and addressed to his wife as she visited
relatives in Massachusetts. As it winds to an end, Green writes:
“I’ve been to CincPac forty times today and now I give up. I can’t keep my eyes
open?’
He tells his wife — Alice Herlihy Green, a Chicagoan who died in 1982—“I love
you. The war’s over. You’re an angel. And there won’t be any more worry for you.
Soon, I’ll be home to do it all. But there won’t be any worry, so we’ll just laugh and
play like other kids. You’re a doll.
“Ben.”
Information on Green’s book is available on the Web site at www.dadswar net.
“AP credited the Guam radio with making a flash announcement here, which
you may have read or heard repeated in the States. That was us!"

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