Unity soldier was killed in action in ‘forgotten’ Alaskan battle of World War II

The Battle of Attu, on one of Alaska’s Aleutian Islands, is known by historians as the “Forgotten War” of World War II.

A Derry Township man is making sure his great uncle, one of the 549 U.S. troops killed in that battle, isn’t forgotten.

David W. Bates, a native of the village of Trauger in Unity, was 21 when he was killed in action on May 14, 1943, taking part in the campaign to oust Japanese forces that had occupied Attu.

Scott Hudson remembered the stories about Bates and his sacrifice told by his grandmother, Dorothy Hudson, one of the soldier’s seven sisters.

“She told me stories of how he was killed in Massacre Bay,” Scott Hudson said. “She said, ‘I miss my brother. His nickname was Bud.’ “

Scott Hudson said he has spent about a year searching through records online and at the National Archives in Maryland to learn more about what happened in Alaska and to honor his great uncle and the ultimate sacrifice he paid for his country.

Bates enlisted to serve his country in August 1942.

“My grandmother said he was going to enlist when the time was right,” Hudson said. “He probably figured he wasn’t going to get drafted because he was the only boy in the family.”

Reviewing family correspondence, Hudson noted, “My great-grandmother mentioned she never got to see her son once he was inducted. All his furloughs were canceled. He did his training and was sent off, and she never saw him again.”

Bates was a private in Company L of the 17th Infantry. Like fellow service members among the 12,500 U.S. troops who arrived at Attu on May 11, 1943, he entered into a fierce struggle with Japanese foes for control of the island and was ill-prepared for the harsh weather there.

According to a National Park Service account of the battle, the Army hadn’t taken the weather into account when they provided the troops with outdoor gear. Many suffered from exposure, frostbite, fever and “trench foot” — a condition involving restricted blood flow to the feet caused when the soldiers were unable to change out of their sodden, poorly constructed boots for weeks.

The conditions the soldiers endured prompted changes in the way the Army equipped and provisioned its soldiers in the field, according to the park service.

In proportion to the number of troops involved, the 18-day engagement on Attu ranks as the second deadliest battle in the Pacific Theater of World War II, falling just behind Iwo Jima.

Bates was one of 549 U.S. soldiers who died on Attu. Additional American casualties included 1,148 wounded, 1,200 with severe cold injuries and 614 who suffered with various diseases, including exposure.

Among the occupying Japanese forces, 2,351 died and 28 were captured. The park service noted many of the Japanese dead had followed a traditional warrior code in the face of defeat and died by suicide.

Five days after his death, Bates was buried by the military in Little Falls Cemetery on Attu.

The government paid the expenses in 1948 when Bates was disinterred and his body returned home with a military escort. After visitation at Latrobe’s Hartman Funeral Home and a funeral service at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Trauger, he was reinterred with military honors in Unity Cemetery.

“My grandmother wanted to see him, but she was told he wasn’t viewable,” Hudson said. “My great-grandfather had a heart attack that day,” which he was able to survive.

A War Department telegram sent on June 3, 1943, informed Bates’ parents, William and Cleo, of his death in combat, although initially the date when he was killed erroneously was listed as May 17.

Given the initial secrecy about the Aleutian operation, it took some time before the family learned David Bates had died on Attu. The telegram and other documents the family at first received revealed only that the death had occurred in the “North American Area,” Hudson discovered.

A mixture of anguish and pride concerning Bates’ death is evident in a copy Hudson obtained of a letter Bates’ mother sent to military officials.

On Aug. 12, 1943, she continued to seek more information on the location where he’d been killed, but she expressed gratitude for correspondence from her son’s captain and chaplain, who “told me how bravely my son had died.”

She added, “He was my only son. I gave all I had and was so proud of him. His going certainly made an empty place in my heart, but I know there is a just God and I have put my trust in him.”

His life cut short in battle and with just two years of high school education, Bates’ full potential in civilian life was never to be determined.

His scant personal effects, shipped home from Alaska, included two fountain pens, a key, a cigarette lighter, a comb, two books, a leather wallet and three cents.

Hudson’s search for more information about his great uncle isn’t over. He plans on reaching out to more relatives. One thing he’d like to determine is the whereabouts of a posthumous Purple Heart that was awarded to Bates.

Last year, Hudson’s family had a bronze memorial plaque installed next to his great uncle’s Unity headstone, to make sure the memory of his service and sacrifice are preserved.

“It’s a good thing to remember and honor him,” he said.