In May of 1942 the Island of Kiska, in Alaska’s Aleutian Islands, was one of the world’s remotest places; A rocky outcrop in a chilly sea, coated with tufts of grass and mossy tundra, cloaked in fog, and facing a constant sea wind. American code-breakers relayed Japanese signals indicating planned operations in the Aleutians, and so the US Navy determined to establish a weather station on Kiska for the purpose of better predicting the weather at the US base at Dutch Harbor, nearly 700 miles to the east. An abandoned trapper’s shack was fitted out with weather reading equipment and a radio, and ten men would live there in almost complete isolation, taking measurements and radioing them to Dutch Harbor.

One of the navy men who went ashore to help set up the weather station was Ensign William C. Jones. As they worked, he knew that these ten men would shortly be left alone on the island for many months, possibly years. He saw the weathermen playing with his brown and white dog named Explosion, and decided they would need his companionship. Ensign Jones presented Explosion to Aerographer’s Mate Charles House, who would command the team.

The crew of the Kiska Weather Station (and two others who left with the US Navy) with Explosion. May 1942. Charles House is standing third from the left.

They spent the next month stashing their food supplies, checking their gear, taking atmospheric measurements and radioing them to Dutch Harbor, walking the island with Explosion, and listening to the radio for any shred of news from the outside world.

Then, on May 24, they spotted a Japanese plane flying overhead, and word of the sighting was sent along to an incredulous Dutch Harbor. On June 3, the radioman on Kiska awoke the weather crew early yelling, “Attack! Attack! Attack!” As he composed himself and started talking, it became clear that they were not under assault. The radioman had picked up transmissions that 34 Japanese planes had bombed Dutch Harbor. The following evening, 26 more planes hit the oil tanks there as the ten men on Kiska huddled around the radio listening to the reports.

Charles House and his men spent a tense few days and nights, expecting at any moment to spot a squadron of Japanese planes closing in on their outpost. But several days passed with no enemy activity in the sky or on the radio, and they began to rest more easily.

Around 0200 hours on June 7, 1942, House was awakened suddenly when W.M. Winfrey in the bunk above him started shouting, “Attack! Attack!” House chided him for waking them up with his nightmare and told him to go back to sleep. As Winfrey hopped down and showed House a bullet-hole in his leg, the windows in their hut began to smash all over the room from incoming gunfire. House recalled that,

We dressed hurriedly and Turner turned the heating stove up full, and I stuffed all the communication ciphers into the hot stove. During this time I observed the glass cases covering the selsym wind recording instruments breaking from Japanese bullets. As I ran from the building the first light permitted the observation of many Japanese landing craft moving up the inner harbor with machine guns blasting away from their bows. AG2c Turner, who had been outside for a couple of minutes and adjusted to the light suggested that we spread out and move up the hill toward the low clouds for cover. As we spread and moved the Japanese would shoot at us, we would drop down and they would train on another moving target. In this early morning light the tracer bullets looked like baseballs curving toward us.

He ran up the mountain and into the clouds until he collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. As he lay there catching his breath, he realized it had become silent, and that he was alone.

Reason took over and I analyzed my situation. I was alone, not warmly dressed, but had grabbed a couple of gray blankets as I ran outside. The Japanese were landing in Force and I would assume that they would knock out our facilities and leave, so I must evade them until they left Kiska.

But the Japanese had landed over 1,200 troops on the island, with 4,000 more on the way, and they had no plans to leave. They would spend the next 13 months constructing camps, piers, infantry defenses, artillery and anti-aircraft installations, an airfield, and even a mini-submarine base. Two of the weather team were captured when they ran into a Japanese battalion that had landed elsewhere on the island. All of the rest but one gave themselves up after about a week without food on the island. They were collected around the weather station, a Japanese surgeon removed the bullet from Winfrey’s leg, and they were soon ship-bound for prisoner of war camps in Japan.

William House did not give himself up. He wandered the island with nothing but the two grey blankets he’d taken with him, in search of shelter. He spent his days watching the Japanese planes and ships moving around the shore, and avoiding Japanese patrols. The weather was cold and wet, with occasional snow flurries. He eventually found a small cave by a stream, and found that he could eat the tundra grass.

I was able to eat enough tundra for a daily bowel movement. Angle worms from the nearby stream provided some protein even though they were a little bitter. The dry tundra from last year made a very good shelter, by placing a two foot layer on the ground and folding my blankets over that. The blankets were covered with another 18 inches of tundra. I simply crawled in between the blankets for a nice dry, warm and soft bed.

He tracked the passing days by making a mark on a pencil he happened to have with him.

What does one do with all that time? Think – think of how I might get out of this situation. There didn’t seem to be any desirable alternatives. The only hope was that there might be an invasion, but that seemed improbable at the time… think of my wife and young daughter that I had left behind, wondering if I might ever see them again… thinking with some satisfaction that I had taken out the maximum amount of government life insurance… Thinking and sometimes dreaming of American style food.

The monotony was broken on several occasions by the intensifying air combat.

A fighter plane came down the ravine with his machine guns blazing away. For a minute I thought he was after me, but he continued seaward, spraying bullets into the water. On another occasion I was awakened by a very sharp explosion from the other side of the island and could feel the ground tremor. B-17 raids were becoming quite frequent.

After 48 days alone in the tundra, House was taking his daily trip over to the creek to collect water when he fainted. He had noticed that he was losing weight rapidly, and realized that he would die. After some soul-searching, he decided to surrender, and stumbled across the island for another day until he came upon a Japanese anti-aircraft gun emplacement. They took him prisoner, gave him some tea and biscuits, and then led him at bayonet point to the area where the weather station had been. Now it was a bustling port of nearly 30 buildings, where he was viewed with astonished curiosity.

A large ring of Japanese formed a large ring around me and just stared. I had the feeling of a monkey in a zoo. The ring remained constant for several hours with some dropping out and others taking their place. Late in the afternoon, I was put into our old power station, given some grass sacks and blankets for a bed. The Japanese curiosity did not stop as a long line formed at the window and they would have a minute or so to look at me then move off.

No ships left Kiska for many months, and so William House remained on the island with the Japanese, who nursed him back to health, then put him to work. His Japanese workmates came to the beach when he finally departed for a POW camp on September 20, 1942, and gave him what House described as a “rousing send off.”

But there was another member of the weather station team who remained on Kiska. Explosion the dog had been adopted by Japanese Captain Seichi Hiramatsu, who renamed him Katsu-go, ‘victory’ in Japanese. Hiramatsu’s company became very attached to Katsu-go. As American air attacks intensified, the soldiers noted,

Here comes Katsu, jumping into the underground barrack! The dog gives the first bark warning that the planes are coming near. The dog’s sensibility of air-raid approaching had proved to be sharper than that of the radar.

When some of the Japanese gunners were killed by shrapnel during a bombing raid, Katsu-go sat sentinel as their bodies were cremated, and that night produced a series of long and sad howls that unfolded across the foggy slope.

As the months passed, the air raids continued to become larger and more frequent. Several Japanese shipwrecks now dotted the coast, the superstructures visible above the waterline. The US Navy effectively blockaded Kiska, and the Japanese knew that an invasion was imminent. They decided to evacuate the island in the cloak of fog.

As July of 1943 drew to a close, Katsu-go watched as Capt. Hiramatsu’s men destroyed their installations, and marched away. The dog followed them over the Tanabata Pass and down to the beach where, unable to take Katsu-go with them, the men bid him farewell and boarded their vessel. As they headed out to sea, some of soldiers watched Katsu-go running up and down the beach and howling at the departing ship.

There were food scraps and garbage piles left behind by the retreating Japanese troops. Arctic foxes routinely came to pick over the rubbish for edibles, and the abandoned dog probably joined them in order to find sustenance.

As it happened, the Japanese had escaped Kiska in the fog without the US Navy spotting them. A combined Canadian and American force, including the 87^th Mountain Infantry Regiment of the 10^th Mountain Division, landed on Kiska on August 15, 1943. They expected stiff resistance, and in the fog engaged in several friendly firefights that caused over 100 casualties, but soon realized that they were shooting at their own men and that the Japanese had gone.

US Army and Navy personnel were landed to build new installations for the 7,000 Allied troops stationed at Gertrude Cove. One of those landed was Ensign William C. Jones, who had helped to build the weather station 15 months before. He stood stunned among the soldiers as a dog wagged its tail and ran toward him. It was Explosion.

War Artist Edward Laning painted the moment of the reunion with Explosion.

Sources:

aleutians.hlswilliwaw.com. Kiska, Aleutian Islands, AK. Accessed October 17, 2021. http://aleutians.hlswilliwaw.com/kiska-homepage.htm

Finlayson, Kenneth. Operation Cottage: First Special Service Force, Kiska Campaign. Office of the Command Historian. From Veritas, Vol. 4, No. 2, 2008. Accessed October 17, 2021. https://arsof-history.org/articles/v4n2_op_cottage_page_1.html

Garfield, Brian. The Thousand Mile War: World War II in Alaska and the Aleutians. Garden City, NY: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1969.

House, Charles. “Charles House and the Invasion of Kiska.” National Park Service, Aleutian Islands World War II National Historic Area. Accessed October 17, 2021. https://www.nps.gov/articles/charles-house-letter.htm

ibiblio.com. Aleutian Campaign: Japanese Occupation of Kiska, the Kiska Garrison, and Operation in the Kuriles. Interrogation Nav No. 22 USSBS N0. 99. Tokyo, October, 1945. Transcribed and formatted by Charles Hall. accessed September 26, 2015. https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/AAF/USSBS/IJO/IJO-22.html

Kasukabe, Karl. Booklet Page “Dog That Served Two Nations” Essay and Photographs. Japanese American Military History Collective. Accessed October 17, 2021. http://www.ndajams.omeka.net/items/show/1056587

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Romesentinel.com. Rome man was World War II POW after Japanese invaded Alaska. Accessed October 17, 2021. https://romesentinel.com/stories/rome-man-was-world-war-ii-pow-after-japanese-invaded-alaska,32572