Even when far back from enemy lines, standard practice among reporters in war zones was to painstakingly record, and then publish, the names and hometowns of servicemen and -women. That way, their families and friends back home could enjoy the acknowledgment of their loved ones' courage, as well as the reflected glory of knowing someone involved in the war effort. "Names are news," as the saying went. Publishers encouraged the practice for commercial reasons as much as journalistic ones: printing a local person's name in the newspaper generated loyalty among readers and encouraged the purchase of extra copies, for posterity.
With one glaring, categorical exception, the reporters covering the Gremlin Special crash faithfully followed this practice. They published the names and hometowns of the survivors and the crash victims, and also the chaplains who flew over the valley for funeral rites, the planners in Hollandia, and the crew of the 311 supply plane. They included the names of not only the pilot, copilot, and radio operator but also the flight engineer, Sergeant Anson Macy of Jacksonville, Florida, and the cargo crew.
But as obvious as the reporters' obsession with Margaret [Hastings, the only female survivor] was their tendency to overlook the 1st Recon paratroopers of Filipino descent. That oversight came despite the fact that all but Rammy Ramirez were natives or residents of the United States, and all were full-fledged members of the U.S. Army. When speaking with reporters by walkie-talkie, [Capt] Walter and [Lt] McCollom repeatedly tried to draw attention to the enlisted paratroopers, particularly the heroic jump by [Sgt] Bulatao and [Cpl] Ramirez into death-defying terrain, and their life-and-limb-saving ministrations to [Cpl] Hastings and [Sgt] Decker.
Yet in one story after another, the medics and paratroopers received little or no credit. Sometimes they appeared anonymously, as in one typical mention: "Two Filipino medics laden with supplies also were dropped by parachute."
To his credit, Ralph Morton of The Associated Press eventually devoted some ink to the enlisted men of the 1st Recon, as did the [Chicago] Tribune's Walter Simmons, who focused most on Sergeant Alfred Baylon. Simmons's interest in "the stocky, cigar-smoking" Baylon was piqued by the fact that the sergeant hailed from Chicago and had previously worked as an orderly in the city's Garfield Park Community Hospital.
When the supply plane dropped news clippings about the events in Shangri-La, Walter reacted angrily in his journal to how little acclaim his men received. "So few reporters have given my men the credit due them and are always bringing in outsiders for credit. I certainly hope that when I get out of here I can give the credit to those who deserve it and [to] my enlisted men, who made possible the rescue of these people. It has definitely been no cake party jumping into unexplored country and climbing mountains over the damnest trails ever seen. No complaining, but just slugging along, doing their job."
As the paratroopers' leader, Walter received glowing mentions in the press reports. Reporters gave him the title of "rescue chief," as Ralph Morton put it, presumably to distinguish him from the native chiefs. But throughout the mission reporters used his unloved given name, "Cecil." And they routinely added an "s" to his last name, calling him "Walters."
27 March 2015
Telling Omissions in Pacific Theater War Reporting
From Lost in Shangri-La, by Mitchell Zuckoff (HarperCollins, 2011), pp. 234–236: