Hero of the Pacific_ The Life of Marine Legend John Basilone - James Brady [64]
“A long time ago, it seemed ages, I had knelt in this very church and prayed the good Lord to help and guide me. Now, I was back again, feeling very small and humble as I realized that God in His wondrous ways had heard my prayers. Not only did I fulfill my promise to Pop to keep his name high, but that God had seen fit to touch me with His magic, lifting me up for the whole world to see.”
This was a Basilone we had not seen before, spiritual, meditative, even pious. How much of this was genuine, how much simply a reaction to all of the adulation and love on every hand, the solemnity of mass at St. Ann’s, his recalling the Marines still out there in the Pacific, is impossible to say. Phyllis records what are supposed to be her brother’s thoughts on his return home after the cauldron of Guadalcanal and the celebrity of the unexpected medal. “I had become a national hero, kids worshipped me, my buddies would give up their lives for me and actually did. I was featured in magazines and comic books. Newspapers had endless articles about my exploits, and the bright light of publicity shone on me day and night. To cap the whole incredible drama, the President of these great United States of America had seen fit to bestow on me the greatest honor this country could give.” Does this really sound like Manila John? To me it smacks of press agentry, prepared sound bites provided the young hero by his handlers and dutifully recorded later by Phyllis Basilone Cutter in her newspaper series about her brother John.
Bruce Doorly has his turn at summarizing the war bond tour to date, echoing much of what Phyllis had written, before getting to his own detailed account of the return to Raritan, and including a fascinating insight not previously recorded: even during that first leg of the speaking tour, Basilone was drinking heavily. “The publicity and fanfare did not let up at any of the bond rallies. While Basilone himself said, ‘The constant fuss is starting to get on my nerves.’ He was not cut out to be a public speaker. He was a soldier, and was starting to wish that he was back in action. On the tour there were constant questions about the battle with the Japanese, which he answered over and over. The pressure of the attention got so bad that John had started drinking. One veteran [presumably another serviceman on the bond tour] said, ‘He knocked off a fifth the way you knock off a beer. Whisky, gin, it made no difference.’”
Basilone’s last surviving sibling, Donald, who lives in Florida, told me that when he and John shared a bedroom during his brief Raritan respite from the war bond tour, and later when he was on leave, his brother didn’t tell him much. But he remembered one thing clearly: “He always had a bottle of liquor on the dresser.” Donald was impressed by that.
Manila John had long enjoyed a drink. Was he simply getting back into a normal peacetime routine of social drinking? Or did he now “need” a drink? Were his tour handlers supplying the stuff to keep him relaxed, keep him performing?
Phyllis says a priest named Graham said the mass at St. Ann’s; Doorly says it was Basilone’s old pastor and guidance counselor, Father Amadeo Russo, which sounds more likely unless somehow a very young Reverend Dr. Billy Graham had shoehorned himself into the moment. Father Russo,