Atlanta resident reflects on terrifying and historic moments during WWII service

By Randy Grider
randy@casscountynow.com

Alleck Bohuslav turned down a chance to be a fighter pilot. He opted to work on planes instead. But it wasn’t enough to insulate him from being in harm’s way.
In fact, he remained in the thick of it for much of World War II.
Bohuslav’s close calls with death and being a witness to the brutality of war and historical events are still very much with him at almost 95 years of age. It affected him, shaped him and in some ways prepared him for a long, successful career in the oil industry.
Bohuslav has few items from his military days that he placed on the table for this interview at his Atlanta home where he lives with his wife Marian. There’s a small book from his Air Corps unit, an old newspaper clipping announcing his duty in New Guinea and a photo of him from school. And then there’s his uniform that he dons for the first time in quite awhile, noting that it doesn’t fit as it once did.
“I had a lot of scary moments,” Bohuslav said, reflecting back to another time that only he or someone who has faced constant threat of death can fully appreciate. “When someone is dropping bombs or shooting, it’s scary all the time. I was not where it was peaceful. I was where they were always trying to kill us and we were trying to kill them.”
Bohuslav, who hails from Hallettsville, Texas, spent 28 months in an active combat zone. He was a crew chief with 38th Bomb Group, which was a medium bombardment group operating in the Southwest Pacific Area (SWPA) as a B-25 Mitchell unit assigned to Fifth Air Force. It was one of the first combat organizations of the United States Army Air Forces to be deployed to the Pacific Theater.
Bohuslav was drafted into service in 1942. Ironically, he was never sent to basic training. After taking IQ tests with other inductees at Fort Sam Houston, he was sent home before learning through the mail that he was assigned to Army Air Corps.
Despite pressure from an officer to consider becoming a fighter pilot following graduation of his military schooling in North Carolina, Bohuslav declined and eventually found himself in the jungles of New Guinea, where he put his newly learned skills of aircraft maintenance into operation.
Here, and at other military airstrips in the Pacific, he became a combat veteran under the near constant attacks from the Japanese. Even the routine was never routine and filled with danger.
One such incident on the island of Biak involved a wayward B-24 that had blown a tire while attempting to take off and slammed into another plane next to where Bohulav was working on a B-25. The force of the crash and explosion knocked Bohulav from his ladder where he was working on his plane. The carnage of the exploding planes, bombs and human remains of fellow soldiers are forever engrained in his mind. So is seeing the bodies of Japanese soldiers who were beheaded by native islanders as Bohuslav’s unit moved closer to Japan.
“Today, if there is a wreck on the highway, I don’t want to see it,” Bohuslav. “I’ve seen enough.”
Bohuslav said he tried not to have personal relationships with others while in the military because it made it harder when someone was killed.
“I knew my pilots names, but I didn’t try to get to know them,” Bohuslav. “One time, five of my planes didn’t come back. I don’t know what happened to them.”
Bohuslav witnessed historic moments, one in particular was terrifying at the time. On Aug. 6, 1945, he was stationed on Okinawa and fueling his planes with 100 octane fuel in preparation for a bombing raid over Japan. Suddenly, he heard explosions and rapid gunfire. He and others around him took off running for cover.
“I thought we were being attacked by the Japanese,” Bohuslav said.
He soon discovered the ruckus was actually distant American troops celebrating the anticipated end of the war after learning the United States had dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima.
Bohuslav also witnessed arriving Japanese dignitaries a few days preparing for Japan’s unconditional surrender that would take place on the USS Missouri.
Bohuslav’s work as a dependable crew chief didn’t go unnoticed by his superiors, who offered him incentives to re-enlisted, but he had had enough. He returned to the United States in late 1945 ready for some normalcy.
But the scars physically and emotionally didn’t fade with his return to this country.
“I wasn’t fit to be around people,” Bohuslav said.
“I cursed all the time, using the language that normal when I was there.”
As for his physical wounds, they are evident when he rolls ups his sleeve to show white areas where he was once burned by phosphorous. A Purple Heart was the furtherest thing from his mind.
“I wasn’t worried about all that,” Bohuslav said. “I just wanted to get home and away from the service.”
Eventually, Bohuslav met his wife Marian and found a career with Shell Oil. They raised four sons, and both now enjoy the quiet life, though an active one.
“We’ve got pretty busy lives,” Bohuslav said. “Marian and I just fit together really well. But she deserves the credit. She took care of the family while I worked.”
As for memories of the war that still lie just under the surface, Bohuslav matter-of-factly said, ”I was proud that I served and I did my job.”