Pembroke man honors service of six brothers

Just before Veterans Day this year, Jonathan Aretakis of Pembroke ran in the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, D.C., to honor his father and uncles who were in the Marines during World War II. The story of those men -- six brothers in all who served in combat during the war, with five U.S. Marines fighting in the Pacific War and one brother serving in the U.S. Army in Europe -- deserves a place in the U.S. military record book of wartime service from a single family. The fact that all six Aretakis brothers returned alive and unharmed from the blood‑stained beaches of the Pacific and the killing fields of Europe was nothing short of miraculous.
On his family's service, Aretakis reflects, "The pride that comes from being the son of a combat Marine is hard to explain. My father and his brothers did not wait to be called up -- they volunteered because it was the right thing to do. Doing the right thing has gone out of fashion -- but it speaks volumes about dignity, honor and sacrifice. Those are the words that ring in my ears. It's why I hang the flag that once draped my father's casket every November 11, and I stop and reflect on their service to our nation."
That honoring of service this year also included his running in the October 31 marathon. Although Aretakis has finished 23 marathons, this time his legs ended up cramping severely, and he was forced to walk from mile 23 to the finish. It took him 15 minutes to cover the final 200 yards. He relates, "The entire day was very emotional for me and for many, many other participants. Spouses were running for their husbands/wives killed in action, children for their fathers. There were not dozens, but hundreds -- wounded vets of Iraq and Afghanistan participating, scores of men and women running with prosthetics, many blinded vets being led the entire distance by their comrades. The most moving was a double amputee in full Marine combat gear on a push cycle, followed by four of his Marine comrades in combat gear, boots, helmets and back packs. They were carrying their buddy's two prosthetic legs and encouraging him on. They passed me at mile 23, as I was walking. I was feeling so bad for myself, but when I saw these guys I cried like a baby when they passed me and yelled out 'Semper Fi' and all five of them answered, 'Oorah!'"
Despite his pain, Aretakis reflects that his ordeal does not in any way compare with the horrors of war that his father and uncles endured. And he notes that they would have said their stories were not unique, but they were just part of a much larger picture.
Aretakis prefaces their story by noting that it is "about six brothers who lived through the modern era's bloodiest five years, and then went on to raise families, build careers and contribute to the American experience, all in their own ways. By extension, this is also part of the bigger story of our family's journey from the destitude of late nineteenth‑century Greece to the promise of America. It is a story that continues to be told and preserved for future generations of our family, so that they may never forget the deeds and sacrifices of those who came before them." Excerpts from the story Aretakis has written follow.
His father, George Aretakis, was the oldest of the brothers and the first to enlist, joining the Marine Corps early in 1941 before the U.S. entered the war. He had been a student at New York University and was the first member of his family in the New World to serve in the military or attend college. In time, George would join three of his younger brothers at the battle of Okinawa -- site of the worst losses of the Pacific War -- an unplanned reunion in an unlikely venue, compliments of the War Department. The battle for Okinawa saw some of the most brutal and relentless fighting anywhere during World War II. Some 90,000 Japanese defenders were killed, and 12,000 American soldiers perished.
Hoping to avoid, in his words, "an Okinawa from one end of Japan to another," President Harry Truman faced seemingly impossible choices. Conservative estimates of the American losses should a full‑scale invasion of Japan have occurred were placed at about 600,000 American dead. The Aretakis brothers, like the rest of the U.S. Marines on Okinawa, realized that almost certain death awaited them in such an invasion.
Jonathan Aretakis reflects, "As an adolescent, I would often speak of America's use of the atomic bomb with disdain. This was always a point of contention between me and my father. Only now, as an adult, can I appreciate how many American lives that bomb 'saved.'" He adds, "I am uncomfortable judging life‑and‑death decisions made 65 years ago C instead I trust the judgment of those who actually served."
George's younger brother Emmanuel (Manny) Aretakis served with the Marines on several of the Pacific islands and participated in the invasion of Okinawa, landing on the second day of the invasion. Like his older brother George, Manny made a special point of visiting and encouraging his younger brothers. The Aretakis brothers' reunion par excellence occurred on Okinawa in August 1945, with the crack of Japanese snipers from the next hillside, and with four brothers in attendance: George, Gus, Aggie and Manny. Manny, the first to arrive, remembers urging his brothers to get busy digging foxholes because "the Japs were launching daily kamikaze aircraft attacks," and there were enemy snipers on unsecured parts of the island. Apparently Aggie and Gus failed to heed their older brother's warning to dig in, and that night there were many hundred attacks by artillery and kamikaze aircraft. The next morning when Manny arrived in his commandeered jeep, his younger brothers were digging their foxholes in earnest. Manny recalled that the kamikaze attacks were relentless, killing many soldiers over a two‑and‑a‑half‑month period.
The six months that Manny spent in China were among the most memorable of his wartime experience. The Marine Expeditionary Force to China was responsible for disarming the surrendering Japanese troops and keeping the Chinese Communists at bay C no small order for a vastly outnumbered force. While stationed in Peking, Manny served in a personal bodyguard unit assigned to protect Nationalist Chinese leader Chiang Kai‑shek and U.S. Secretary of State George Marshall. Manny would attend events shadowing the Nationalist Chinese leader and was given a photograph of Chiang C with his personal thanks inscribed in Chinese.
Michael Aretakis served in the U.S. Army under General George Patton in the European theater, seeing action in the Ardennes at the Battle of the Bulge and in Central Europe, completing his tour of duty in the Rhineland, serving with an Army field artillery unit. Each Aretakis had one or more memories of harrowing wartime experiences. Michael's son Anthony recalls his father's account of being trapped in a foxhole overnight during shelling and sniper fire, and the poignant memory of a battlefield littered with dead German soldiers.
Michael's only regret was not having served alongside his five brothers in the South Pacific. Like his brothers, Michael was always confident of the war's outcome. The Allies would prevail. But at what cost? His greatest concern, though, was always for the welfare of five brothers serving a world away.
Shortly after Michael's enlistment Agamemnon (Aggie) Aretakis joined the Marines and was followed by older brother Constantine (Gus) Aretakis. The two ultimately served together. Manny told Jonathan that Gus made sure of one thing: no one was going to mess with his kid brother Aggie. They were assigned to 542 "Night Fighters," an aviation unit that repaired damaged reconnaissance planes and was engaged in parts duplication. After setting sail for Hawaii with 2,000 other Marines, they were on shore in Hawaii for just one day. "When we left Hawaii all we knew was we were heading toward Japan. I remember reading on a bunk, 'Loose lips sink ships,' so I kept quiet. Our first stop was in Ulithi [on the way to the Solomon Islands], a tiny atoll where the Seabees were building an airstrip. Our mission was to protect the Seabees. If the Japs ever knew we were building an airstrip there they would have sunk the entire island."
After the battle of Okinawa, the Marines stationed there awaited the invasion of mainland Japan. When Japan surrendered unconditionally, Aggie and Gus were sent there as part of the occupation force.
The last Aretakis to enlist was Aristomenes (Artie) Aretakis, the youngest of the six brothers. He enlisted with the Marines at age 16. Artie persuaded his mother, who spoke little English, to sign an affidavit stating his actual age as 18 so that he could join with his brothers in the war effort. He had just turned 17 when his LST landed on Iwo Jima on February 22. At Iwo, he served with the 155 Howitzers of the 5th Marine Corps Division. "I was too young to be afraid of anything. It was the best bunch of fellow Marines in my outfit."
"I saw the flag raised on Mt. Surabachi from an LTV full of 50‑gallon cans of fuel. I stood up to see what was going on, and there was a chorus of 'Get down, you stupid Cing Greek!' I think I took cover behind a fuel barrel when machine gun fire opened."
Another time the unit's ammo dump was hit by enemy fire. Artie related how he jumped out of his foxhole and began shoveling the island's tell‑tale black volcanic ash on the burning ammo, while his mates yelled, "Get down, you crazy Greek." Artie's gun was knocked out by enemy fire at Iwo. His unit suffered 100 percent casualties.
"My gun was in front of the cemetery, about 50 yards away from big holes that were dug for dead Marines. John Basalone, the first Marine Congressional Medal of Honor recipient, was number 49 in one of those graves, and a friend from my unit named Peterson was number 50. I remember that pretty clearly. Also, the horse flies were wicked because of all the dead. I also remember a big difference between the dead Americans and the dead Japs. The dead Marines, who would lay out for several days, would blow up twice their size. It was really disgusting. But the dead Japanese weren't blown up at all. I learned that it was because we ate all kinds of food, and the Japs survived on just rice and fish."
Artie learned the welcomed news of V‑E day, the German capitulation to the Allies, while on the Pacific island of Tarawa. When the atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Artie was back in Hilo, Hawaii, training for the invasion of Japan. Following Japan's surrender, Artie was sent to occupied Japan. "When I was in Nagasaki I received orders to report to the mess hall. I asked, 'Why? I can't cook.' The officer in charge said, 'You're a Greek, you can cook!' One night a bunch of Marines broke into the mess hall and got into a food fight, throwing eggs all around and making a mess. They got caught and were going to be court‑martialed. I was asked to be a witness for the prosecution, so I told them that I let them into the mess -- I didn't care what was going to happen to me. They held the six prisoners on an island offshore, and when they were transporting them to the mainland in amphibious ducks they got caught in a whirlpool and capsized, and all the men drowned. It was a freak thing -- just one of those things about life. None of the bodies was found, except a guy named Piglaterio. I remember packing his body in a large box that was used to deliver bread to the mess hall."
"The Aretakis brothers 60 years later remain scarred by battle," Artie commented in a 2006 letter to a retired Marine Corps major general. "Watching friends and guys you got to know die when you are still in your teens and early twenties changes you fast. We were called to serve, and answered the call. Had we been more educated about the atrocities of war, or had we really thought about the risks involved, maybe more of us would have stayed home."
Reflecting on his World War II experience, Artie offered this last word: "Our family was truly blessed that six out of six made it home, and we were fortunate to come back in one piece. Our family salutes our comrades and their families who were not as fortunate."