Here is an account from a marine who served on the island in 1944.
I found this story, written by a marine who served on the island in 1944/1945
http://www.members.aol.com/jimmemoirs/
"Duty on Johnston" by F.E.(Jim) DeVine On Johnston, were assigned to the search radar unit which conisted of a a 200' tower and the guts or operating unit was underground. Our quarters were in a quonset hut on top of the operating unit. The unit could search the air and sea for about 150 miles. We were unfamiliar with this type of radar so the current crew had to teach us so we could relieve them for duty elsewhere. Within a couple of weeks we were competent to operate the unit. Then the Navy took over the island and brought radio men in from ships for us to teach them to maintain the unit. They soon became radarmen first class while we stayed corporals and pfcs. I remember we used to climb the 200' tower and ride around on the huge concrete counter weights for recreation. Once the Navy had the unit in hand, we were sent over to Sand Island to revive and operate the ancient 268 AA unit which was originally destined for Wake Island before it fell to the Japs. This unit was not operable when we arrived, but with a lot of work we had it ready to use with the 90mm AA battery. The war was about 1500 miles west of us so we used it mainly for tracking tow planes for practice, firing the 90's. Sand Island at the time consisted of two islands connected by a single lane, coral roadway about 600' long. The NE island was natural and about 5 acres. Here were our mess hall, theatre, boat dock, handball courts, underground ammo storage, and small barracks for an army aircorps radio navigation unit. The SW "island" was completely dredged up from the sea and was about the size of a ball diamond. It was about 18" out of high tide, and you could stand in the middle, throw a piece of coral, and hit the water. Here we had quonset huts for the officers, noncoms, and the troops; four 90mm guns and support equipment, head, slopchute,and a Navy desalting unit. Each morning we had troop and stump for an hour in fresh khakis with rifles. After that we all had to check and clean our respective equipment until lunch time. The afternoon was spent grabassing, playing handball. swimming, fishing, etc. until about 4:00 PM when the slopchute opened for beer and icecream. The most horrific instances occurred when for one whole week, we had no chocolate icecream; only vanilla and strawberry, when the icecream machine broke down. Then the movie machine broke down for a week. A shark even got into our swimming area,. This was one technological foulup after another, and how we won the war, I'll never know. To keep up the morale and from cracking up altogether, we were allowed to go on liberty to THE BIG ISLAND once a week with our loaded rifles and cartridge belts. Jim DeVine (Reading, PA)
"THE REEF" by F.E.(Jim) DeVine When I was on Sand, there were no women around so we were practically naked all the time. That's the way we swam, and the only equipment we had were the wooden carved goggles that the native Hawaiians used. We would swim out to the reef for shells, and I still have a couple of cats eyes. We used to swim out to the seaplanes and bum fesh milk and fruit from the crews. On Sunday, 2-4-45, our radar officer, Lt. Randolph H. Ogg, was swimming alone at the reef and drowned. He's buried in the Punch Bowl on Ohau. Lt. Ogg apparently died of a heart attack. He was swimming alone, and he was a straight type of guy who didn't imbibe. One Gyrene fell from the 100' tower on Sand, and 6 Seabees on Johnston died from bad moonshine they had cooked up. All deceased enlisted men were put on "channel duty" at the "outside" end of the channel which, in those days, was quite narrow and shallow. Only a small supply freighter could come thru. When someone died on the island, enlisted men only, they would be put into matress covers, weighted down, and taken to the end of the channel on the crash boat. Their bodies were then slid over the side to stand "channel duty" for eternity. END
Subject: Addendum to "Duty on Johnston" MY TWO ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE FROM JOHNSTON/SAND ISLANDS. My first attempt to escape resulted in harsh, painful results. Whenever a low pressure weather system passed over the islands, I could not breathe and would lie in my sack gasping for air. It was suggested that I go to sick bay on Johnston for some relief. At sick bay I told the Doc that I had to get off the island because I could not breathe. He said, "No problem. Come back on Sunday afternoon and we will remove your tonsils and adenoids on Monday." I reported to sick bay on Sunday, and that evening I was given a shot in the butt to prepare me for surgery on Monday. In the morning, I was led into a room containing a sort of kitchen chair onto which I was directed to sit facing the back of the chair with my arms crossed over the back of the chair and my chin on my arms. I was still quite groggy, and two corpsmen faced me. Behind them was the Lt. Cmdr. doctor who appeared to be nursing a hangover from Sunday night's festivities. The corpsmen told me to open my mouth, and they proceeded to remove my tonsils and adenoids without further medication. It hurt like hell, and blood was spurting all over them and the room. Instead of cutting the tonsil duct, they were yanking on it. I, of course, involuntarily let out some blood-spurting howls to which they replied, "You can take this. You're a Marine". I spent 6 days in sickbay and was unable to eat any of the time because of my "damaged" throat. Because I was ambulatory, I had dishwashing kitchen duty five time a day. I became very weak and was finally rescued by my radar officer who got me back to Sand Island and told me to stay in the sack until I regained my strength . My second escape attempt happened shortly after Iwo Jima was secured, and where they had lost about 700 second lieutenants. The word was passed for volunteers for platoon leaders school to replace those lieutanants. I was one of four out of fifty guys on Sand Island who qualified for the school. At our preliminary interview with the Colonel, he asked me, "What do you do here, son?" I replied, "I'm in radar, Sir". I was dismissed along with one other radarman because radarmen could not be accepted into the program. The other two men were artillerymen, and they escaped from the island. I "accidentally" managed to escape from the island by a quirk of fate in April, 1945. I was heading for a game of handball, when I saw a bunch of guys yelling around the pier. When I got there, they said some guy had drowned. I looked around the 20 foot, clear water and saw a dark spot on the bottom. I dove in and saw the guy in a sitting position. I got him under the arms, brought him to the surface and got him to the dock where the others pulled him out and performed artificial respiration. Fortunately, he came around. His name was Cpl. Ben DuBose. I kept tabs on Ben after his infamous swim. He was transferred to Pearl, and then went to the Phillipines and later to Japan (occupation). He was in Army communications. I visited him at his home in TX in 1992. He passed away in 1995. He was attended by corpsmen and a doctor after I brought him to the surface in 1945. He spent time in the hospital in critical condition. But he survived the experience and went on to lead a full life. I have always been thankful that I was nearby when he needed me that day in Sand Island. It was simply a question of being in the right place at the right time. At the inquiry, in answer to the Colonel's question about how the situation could be improved, I suggested better boat service at Sand Island. I sensed the Colonel was unhappy with my response. Dexter Allen Nesmith and I were almost immediately transferred to casual company at Camp Catlin on Oahu. I believe that my accidental rescue of Cpl. Ben DuBose led to this transfer (which I refer to as my "successful escape from Sand Island". [see accompanying newspaper article on homepage]. In January, 1946, on my way back from Japan, I ran into my old radar crew back in Hawaii. They had just been relieved from duty on Sand Island.
END F.E. (Jim) DeVine