Zumwalt

by Larry Berman

  With a heavily armed crew of just fifteen sailors and two ensigns guarding the Japanese, Bud got the Ataka under way at 7:00 a.m. on September 13 “with Japanese controlling all functions on ship and prize crew guarding against sabotage and also checking and recording navigational data.” As Bud later recalled, “The way the ship was built, the most defensible place for three officers and 15 sailors to be with a crew of a couple of hundred Japanese was to live in the wardroom, because there was only one access to the wardroom. That way you could always defend yourself against people from just one direction. And we kept all our guns and all theirs that we could find there. We had taken away all their swords and samurai daggers and that sort of thing, so we felt we had all kinds of lethal instruments there. We ate and slept in the wardroom, cooked out of a little hibachi kind of a thing. Except in twos and threes, we stayed in the wardroom in order to make sure that we didn’t get overrun.”76

  By a stroke of good fortune, Bud located the charts to the minefields in a compartment in the Ataka. By 8:49 a.m., they had entered the Yangtze, the first vessel flying the U.S. flag to enter the Yangtze River in four years.77 As the ship made its way up the river, the Chinese people lined the banks and thronged the river in junks, cheering, applauding, and tooting on whistles to demonstrate their happiness at the return of the American navy to Shanghai. In his official report, Zumwalt noted that “the Japanese on board the Ataka grew insolent and restless over this demonstration, making it necessary to put guns in the ribs of certain officers and to line up all of the ship’s complement not on watch at their quarters under guard.”

  Bud’s orders read that, once in Shanghai, he was to locate Rear Admiral Milton E. “Mary” Miles, the commander of U.S. naval forces in China. The Ataka needed fuel and water, so Bud made the decision to tie up at the Japanese Imperial Naval Headquarters, the only pier he could locate with space available. When Bud noticed a vehicle dropping off a Japanese naval officer at the dock, he commandeered the car. The chauffeur drew a pistol and had to be forcibly disarmed.

  Bud was soon at the private residence of Rear Admiral Miles,78 one of the most inspirational characters Bud encountered in his lifetime of service. “My memories and recollections of him are in the same context as those of General George Marshall, with whom I spent a day, or of Paul Nitze.”79 Miles had been sent to China in 1941 to organize the whole of China into guerrilla units, using navy personnel to train and lead them. He and his men carried on in Lawrence of Arabia fashion, becoming the one American most loved by the Chinese and hated by the Japanese. Miles and his team had arrived in Shanghai just days earlier. Miles offered Bud and his entourage a scotch, the first they had seen in months. When Bud pointed out that they were on duty, Miles said that his eyes were teary and he could not see very well.

  Miles was concerned that the Ataka’s situation was precarious, because the Japanese might try to overrun the prize crew, so he sent his troops to help guard the ship. The following day, Miles went to the Ataka and informed the Japanese commanding officer that the American navy was officially assuming command of his ship; the crew was removed and interrogated. Admiral Miles asked the Robinson crew why they had not taken any souvenirs. “Then he went over to one of the sea bags and saw one of these samurai daggers and said, ‘Well, since you’re not taking any, obviously you won’t miss this one.’ He helped himself to that one.” Bud was given a sword that had been presented to him by the commanding officer of a surrendering Japanese vessel. Bud gave the sword to shipmate Mel Knickerbocker, who kept it as souvenir for twenty-six years; when Bud’s appointment as CNO was announced, Mel wanted Bud to have the sword. In an August 3, 1970, letter, Bud let Mel know that his brother Jim had delivered the sword prior to the change-of-command ceremony.80

  Miles then addressed the prize crew, reminding them that there were currently 175,000 armed Japanese and just a few thousand Chinese and a few hundred American troops to oppose them. He reiterated that the presence of the American Navy in Shanghai was very important to the Chinese people. Bud’s instincts were not to grant his men liberty, but Miles authorized liberty for one third at a time to show an American presence during the transfer from Japanese to Chinese national control. He warned his men that while on liberty it was essential to impress the Chinese with good behavior and to comport themselves properly.

  News spread quickly throughout Shanghai that the war was over and the proof was in the harbor, where a Japanese ship was flying an American flag. Literally everyone in Shanghai wanted to see the liberators and the ship. One of those joining the throngs was Mouza Coutelais-du-Roché. A few days later, one of Mouza’s close friends wanted to thank a few Americans from the ship who had given him a job. He offered them a home-cooked typical Russian meal and asked Mouza’s aunt and uncle to host the dinner. The next day, Bud was invited to the dinner party. The hostess was Mouza.

  Mouza had been born in Harbin, Manchuria, in 1922, into a community of eighty thousand pro-czarist Russians in the northern province of China. Both her parents had been born in Siberia. Her mother, Anna Mikhailovna Habarova, was a White Russian loyal to Czar Nicholas II; her father, André Coutelais-du-Roché, was a French national and fur merchant.81 Her parents escaped Siberia in 1921 and settled, along with thousands of other White Russian émigrés, in Harbin, where a miniature czarist Russian society emerged. During the Russian Revolution, roughly two hundred thousand White Russians escaped Siberia into Manchuria, where they re-created czarist Russian culture in churches, homes, and schools. “My parents had learned the transitory nature of success in Asia and made a conscious decision that, although they had very little, they could raise me as nearly as possible in the same way as they would have done had they remained in czarist Russia. They gave me piano lessons. They taught me to love good music and art,” recalled Mouza.82

  In 1931 Manchuria was occupied by the Japanese, and the family was forced to house Japanese civil servants.83 While living under the Japanese occupation, Mouza’s mother was diagnosed with stomach cancer. There were no adequate medical facilities in Harbin, so André took Anna to the Rockefeller Hospital in Peking for treatment. Mouza was left in the care of her gradmother, Elena. “Hello my dear girl Muza,” wrote Anna from Peking. “Yesterday we saw two doctors; they cannot understand where my tumor comes from. Today I will go again. Today I am going to see the doctor of a very great standing. I do not know what he will say, but I think I will have to have surgery. Muzochka, don’t worry, be strong, God willing everything will be fine. . . . Poor Dad, everything is so expensive.”84

  Following surgery, the doctors said there was little else that could be done. While Anna was recuperating from surgery, André returned to Harbin to take care of his business matters. He made the decision that Mouza would accompany her mother to Shanghai so that Anna could recover at the home of her sister Christina in the French Concession. André promised to join them shortly thereafter. Before going to the railway station to take her mother to Peking, Mouza’s father kissed her and said, “I’ll see you in three days.” It was the summer of 1940. Anna Mikhailovna Cotelais-Du-Roche (as written in her death announcement) passed away on April 28, 1942. Mouza spent the next four years with her aunt and uncle in Shanghai because, with the war’s termination, Stalin sought to increase his empire by sending Soviet troops to occupy Manchuria. André was unable to leave Harbin, his business was seized by the occupiers, and he died in Harbin in 1946 from pneumonia brought on by malnutrition.85

  Bud brought a bottle of hard-to-find scotch whisky to dinner. “I had never tasted Scotch so it didn’t impress me one bit,” Mouza remembered. “What did impress me was him.”86 In a letter to his father, Bud described what happened when he entered the home. Four girls soon entered the room, the first “a gorgeous blonde, lithe and well-formed with a lovely soft complexion and the same air of regality.”87 When the second woman entered the room “my heart stood still. Here was a girl I shall never be able to describe completely. Tall and well-poised, she was smiling a smile of s
uch radiance that the very room seemed suddenly transformed as though a fairy waving a brilliant wand had just entered the room. I never saw the remaining two girls.”

  Bud could not speak; in fact, he could not stop looking at Mouza until finally she motioned everyone to sit and he got the seat next to her for one of the most memorable meals of his life. “Beyond being pretty, she had a radiant air that was enchanting,” wrote Bud. Mouza spoke fluent Russian, French, Chinese, and Japanese but not a word of English. This allowed Bud to hatch his plan. He had been studying Russian for career enhancement but not necessarily to marry a Russian.88 Bud promised to teach Mouza English if she helped him with Russian, telling her that the next war would be with the Russians. For the next ten mornings, he went for tutoring and started spending more time with her. “This was the beginning of a new period in my life,” wrote Bud to his father. Language tutorials quickly turned into long picnics in the park, dancing at the Russian Club, and suppers at Mouza’s home. For the picnics Bud brought along army rations as well as caviar and champagne from the black market. Mouza was intrigued by food from a sealed can. “And he was very surprised but he ate with me and I enjoyed it very much.”89 On their seventh day together, while riding on the second level of a bus, Bud proposed marriage, quoting two lines from the poet Christopher Marlowe, “Come live with me and be my love / And we will all the pleasures prove.” At first Mouza was mad, thinking that Bud was asking her to live with him. She thought of punching him until Bud explained it was a poem and that he was proposing marriage. Mouza asked if this meant going to a church. He said, “Yes, of course.”

  Mouza knew she would accept the proposal, but there were details to be sorted out, beginning with the fact that she was already engaged to an Italian marine. Bruno had been stationed in the British concession of Shanghai doing some sort of work with the Italian embassy. The two dated for years until the Japanese imprisoned all Italian military in Shanghai. Bruno disappeared, first to a prison camp outside Shanghai and then to one in Japan. At the end of the war, the Americans freed these prisoners and sent them home. Bruno tried explaining to authorities that he wanted to join his fiancée in Shanghai, but he was sent home to Italy.

  Mouza had no idea if Bruno was alive. She had received no word from him. Two days after receiving Bud’s proposal in what she described as the most difficult decision of her life, knowing that she would have to leave her homeland and might never again see her father, Mouza agreed, although she also later joked, “I would have accepted his proposal at the end of the third date.”90 When Mouza told Bud about Bruno, he made every attempt to ascertain Bruno’s whereabouts. Years later, when deployed in the Mediterranean, Bud went to Venice and located Bruno. The two men took an immediate liking to each other. Bruno explained to Bud that he had tried reaching Mouza, but it was hopeless at the time. Bruno had by now married and expressed approval for Mouza’s choice of a husband. The two men remained in touch throughout their lives, exchanging Christmas cards and gifts. When Bud received the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1998, he invited Bruno to join his family for the White House ceremony, an offer Bruno declined. When Bruno’s son Stephan, a cardiac physician, visited the United States, he stayed with the Zumwalt Coppola family in Boston. Mouza chose never to write Bruno or have any communication because her heart belonged only to Bud. She would never look back.

  Mouza was a member of the Russian Orthodox Church, which required Bud to be interrogated by the bishop, who asked that Bud furnish two witnesses who could attest to knowing him for five years and could vouch for his family. Two shipmates “stretched the truth” a bit. Another complication arose when Bud and Mouza were required by the church to wait two weeks before the actual wedding could occur. With the Ataka turned over to the Chinese, Bud had been reassigned to the Robinson and was no longer his own boss as prize-crew captain. Meanwhile, the American consul informed Bud that in order for Mouza to get a visa, there would also have to be an American wedding ceremony prior to the Russian service. But the Robinson had just received orders to sail, presumably for the United States. Their wedding date for the church had been set for November 1, 1945, yet the Robinson was scheduled to depart on October 23. Using all of his persuasive powers, Bud successfully lobbied for a waiver of the two-week waiting period so that the wedding could be scheduled for October 22.

  On the morning of the 22nd, Bud and Mouza both visited Mouza’s mother’s grave and then went to the American embassy for a brief civil ceremony. Mouza then went with friends to prepare for a traditional Russian ceremony while the Robinson crew spent hours trying to get Bud drunk at the Palace Hotel. The wedding ceremony was held in a Russian Orthodox church at noon on a beautiful fall day with over 150 men from the Robinson present in their dress whites. The church was small and had no seats, so guests stood in a semicircle facing the priest and the bride and groom. Bud entered the church portals alone with a bouquet in his hand. Throughout the ceremony, a crown was held over the groom’s head by the best man, Ensign Lawler. Before the wedding ceremony, the Robinson crew made a guard of honor for the newlyweds. Two shipmates recalled the moment: “When we saw them we had the idea that it would be a nice touch if we were lined up facing each other for a salute as each party went from their cars to the entrance of the church. . . . We all enjoyed the surprised and amazed look on Lt. Zumwalt’s face.”91

  A reception followed at the home of the bride’s aunt and uncle, the same home where Bud had first met Mouza a few weeks earlier. Once in the home, the men were directed to gather in front of the fire; glasses were filled with vodka, emptied, and then smashed into the fireplace. A grand party ensued. Members of the radar division purchased an Irish linen tablecloth with matching napkins from the Palace Hotel gift shop in Shanghai as a wedding gift.92 A shipmate made the following handwritten entry in his diary: “Liberty today. Attended a wedding. One of our officers was married to a Russian girl. It was very impressive. She was a beautiful bride, dressed in a Russian style wedding gown. The ceremony was conducted in the Russian Orthodox rite. Lots of ritual and pomp. Lt. Zumwalt looked very happy with his new bride. He sure worked fast, we’ve only been here since September 9th. But I’m sure this marriage will endure a long time.”93

  One wonders what Bud must have been thinking. His first marriage had failed because of war and separation; he had known Jane for less than a year before proposing. He was also corresponding with an old flame, Billie Nelson. Bud was now marrying someone he had known for less than two weeks, who had been engaged at the time they met, who spoke no English, and the Robinson was scheduled to depart the next morning from Shanghai to the United States. Bud was also under the impression that it would take a few years before his war bride’s visa would be approved. Yet he rolled the dice. Luck was on the side of these two people whose life experiences had placed them at this point. The morning after being married, Bud said good-bye to Mouza and went to the Robinson. About three hours later, he returned to Mouza, because when he arrived at the Robinson, Bud was told that new orders had arrived from Washington detaching him for transfer to serve as executive officer of the USS Saufley, which was not scheduled to arrive in Shanghai for another several days. “I thought how nice of them to do this because they found out probably he just got married so they do something to him,” thought Mouza in her innocence.94

  In his fitness report detaching Bud from the Robinson, Commander Ray Malpass wrote that “the officer has been studying the Russian language in his spare time. An opportunity should be given the officer to improve his knowledge of Russian, and thereby increase his value to the Naval Service.”95 “His performance of duty is the best of any officer of his rank in my experience in the naval service. . . . He is highly recommended to promotion when due.”

  Bud and his new bride would now be able to honeymoon in Shanghai. The music never stopped.

  CHAPTER 5

  CROSSROADS

  Our new commanding officer was also a hard charger with a marvelous sense of humor. His “can do” spi
rit quickly earned him a nickname—The Road Runner: Beep, Beep. There goes Zooomwalt.

  —REAR ADMIRAL ROBERT J. HANKS1

  The newly married couple took full advantage of their week alone in Shanghai. They were able to spend additional time together once the Saufley arrived, because the ship operated from the mouth of the Yangtze transporting pilots to and from merchant ships.2 After a few weeks in Shanghai, the Saufley was ready to depart on a five-month deployment. This was the first of many times in his naval career that Bud left Mouza alone, but things were especially complicated this time because Mouza had just learned she was pregnant. The city of Shanghai arranged a farewell party for the crew of the Robinson on December 11, 1945, the night before the Robinson was set to cast off its moorings and depart for home. It was at the farewell party that Mouza told Bud she was expecting a child. “I remember the night of the Robinson party in Shanghai when you had to try five times to tell me Elmo was to be born.”3 Bud’s number one priority was getting his wife to the United States so that his father could deliver their baby. All this would need to be sorted out while Bud was on deployment. In the interim, Bud took consolation that for now his wife could remain in familiar surroundings with the support of friends and family.

  “My darling Mouzatchka, we have only been apart 24 hours and already it seems like torture,” wrote Bud on their first morning apart.4 It was a sentiment that virtually every newlywed sailor experienced. Describing their five weeks together as “like a dream,” Bud found himself constantly looking at his wedding band and Mouza’s picture. “It will be terribly hard to live away from you . . . I love you, dearest. More than you will ever know, I love you.”