John “Jack” Johnson

Headquarters Company, 100th Infantry Battalion (Separate)

John “Jack” Alexander Johnson Jr. was born in Los Angeles on June 9, 1913, but grew up in Hawai‘i, where his father worked as an agronomist for the powerful C. Brewer sugar company. Raised among the islands’ social elite and educated at Punahou School, Johnson easily could have followed his peers to mainland colleges. Instead, he chose the University of Hawai‘I (UH), where he joined ROTC and soon became student commandant — a sign of the leadership that would define him.

Handsome, athletic, and effortlessly sociable, Johnson moved comfortably across Hawai‘i’s often rigid class and racial boundaries. He was fluent in both standard English and Pidgin, and excelled in swimming, water polo, and soccer. Yet it was football that made him a local hero. As halfback, he helped lead UH to a stunning 1934 victory over the University of California in the New Year’s Day Classic, cementing his reputation as “Everybody’s All-American.”

After graduating, Johnson took a field supervisor position with McBryde Sugar Company on Kaua‘i. It was there that he met Elizabeth (Betsy) Knudsen, daughter of a long-established kama‘āina family. Their courtship unfolded across horseback rides, swims at Po‘ipū, and island gatherings. They married in 1942 with only a few days’ notice, just as the war swept them into a life of constant movement — from Kaua‘i to Wisconsin, Mississippi, and Georgia, where Jack trained soldiers and attended officer school. Their improvised apartments and small parties with Nisei officers became early glimpses of a changing America.

Commissioned in the Hawaii National Guard in 1939, Johnson entered active service with the 299th Infantry and was later selected by Lt. Col. Farrant Turner to be the training officer of the newly formed Hawaiian Provisional Infantry Battalion — soon known as the 100th Infantry Battalion (Separate). Unlike some white officers, he fit naturally with his mostly Japanese American soldiers, many of whom he knew from UH. His leadership was grounded in humility, competence, and genuine affection.

In November 1943, Johnson was wounded in Italy but refused to remain hospitalized. Promoted to major and appointed executive officer, he pushed to rejoin his men.

In January 1944 at Cassino, while on a reconnaissance mission with Major George Dewey, who had just assumed command of the battalion, both officers were wounded in a minefield. With only one stretcher available, litter bearers, despite orders to evacuate Johnson first, returned with Dewey in the confusion of battle. It was several hours before they could reach Johnson again; by then, he had nearly bled to death. Chaplain Israel Yost remained at his side as he died. He was 30.

In his memorial address at the 17th Annual Service for the fallen of the 100th Infantry Battalion, held by Club 100 in September 1962, Chaplain Yost recalled:

“My remembrance of big Jack Johnson is vivid, too. One day Major Johnson must have noticed the lines of distress in my face as I went about my task of bringing back the dead, for he stopped me and said: “That’s not a very pleasant job, is it, Chaplain?” My reply expressed the tiredness I felt.

His next remark revealed how concerned he was about me and my feelings: “Chaplain, if I fall, just bury me where I fall. Don’t ever go to a lot of trouble getting my body out.”

But when Major Johnson was hit we tried our very best to get him back for treatment, and we got him back as far as our outfit could. It was a snarl in a higher echelon that made it impossible for him to get further treatment, and I remember that night as one of the worst in my experience.

But the point is that our executive officer was concerned about others and their headaches, just as today we ought to be concerned about the other fellow and his problems.”

Johnson was buried at the American Military Cemetery in Nettuno, Italy, but his legacy lived on in the communities he touched, long after his death. Punahou School placed a plaque in his honor. The University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa, where he had been an active student leader, athlete, and graduated in 1935 with degrees in business and economics, honored him by naming a residence hall — Johnson Hall — in his memory. Originally built in 1958, the hall stands as a lasting tribute to one of the university’s own who gave his life in service during World War II.

The creation of Johnson Hall was also shaped by the efforts of returning veterans. Among them was Mike N. Tokunaga, who recalled that he and other veterans, dissatisfied with the campus veterans’ advisor while pursuing their studies after the war, ran for student government and were elected to the Associated Students of the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa (ASUH) Council. They launched a campaign for a veterans’ dormitory, selecting Daniel Inouye as their spokesman and lobbying the territorial legislature. “It took a couple of years,” Tokunaga later recalled, “but Johnson Hall is the result of that.”

In 2011, Johnson Hall was rededicated following a major renovation, with several members of the 100th Infantry Battalion and Johnson’s widow, Elizabeth (Betsy) Knudsen Toulon (formerly Betsy Knudsen Johnson), in attendance. The ceremony, held on Veterans Day, reaffirmed the enduring impact of Johnson’s life and sacrifice. Today, the modernized residence hall continues to serve new generations of students, linking their academic journeys to the legacy of a young leader who once walked the same campus.

At the ceremony, Toulon’s reflections were shared in remarks delivered on her behalf by her daughter, Alida Toulon White:

My mother asked me to speak to you on her behalf. So, as much as possible, I would like to use my mother’s own words. I want to ask if you will please pretend with me, just for a few minutes, that I am my mother, so that I can speak to you in the first person. I want to express great appreciation to everyone who is responsible for making today happen, and to each one of you for being here. It’s so nice to know that the sacrifices that have been made for our freedom are being remembered and honored.

So many times, I have heard Oliver North and others talk about D-Day as though that were the first time the Americans and the other Allies entered World War II. It’s great to remember D-Day and the sacrifices and accomplishments of that battle. But, we all know that the Americans and the other Allies were fighting battles before D-Day in North Africa, and in Sicily, and up the boot of Italy. And it’s very possible that without those battles and those sacrifices that took place before D-Day, which weakened the German forces, the success of D-Day might not have been possible.

If Jack were alive today, I know that he would not feel comfortable with this building being named only for him. Jack was a real team player. Whenever he was praised, he was always quick to give credit to others. I know that if Jack were here today, he would say that the sacrifices and accomplishments he made were no greater than every other man in the 100th Infantry Battalion, because they all gave their all. I know that today, he would want to honor every other member of the 100th Infantry as well.

I first met Jack in 1935, but we didn’t get engaged until 1941. By then, Jack had already joined the National Guard and been called up to active duty. He had been stationed at Schofield Barracks and he’d been to the mainland to be trained to be a lieutenant, and then he was up on the Big Island. He gave me a call one day and said, “I’ve been asked to train some men on Kauai.” So, with three days’ notice, we had a wedding.

For two months, while Jack trained men on the North Shore of Kauai, we stayed in friends’ beach houses on Hanalei Bay and at Anini Beach. Then, one afternoon, Jack came home with his eyes snapping with excitement. He said, “We’re shipping out tonight.” With just a few hours’ notice, I saw them off under cover of darkness.

The next I heard from Jack he was up in Sparta, Wisconsin, and he said that if I’d like to come and join him, he could rent us a room. When I arrived in San Francisco, Jack flew down to meet me. When we got to Sparta, I met several of the officers and some of their wives, but we weren’t able to socialize much, because we only had a small room. Finally, we were able to rent a small apartment, and we did have one party. Dr.(Katsumi) Kometani, who was the Dentist and the Morale Officer for the 100th, taught me a drinking song: “Jan Ken, Jan Ken, Jan, Jan, Ken, Ken, Kobe, Nagasaki, Yokohama, Hoi!” Then, you’d do scissors, paper and stone, and whoever lost had to take a drink. But, we were in no danger of getting pixilated! We had hardly any liquor, because everything was rationed.

While we were in Sparta, Jack asked me to write a letter to Washington, D. C. We had heard that the government wasn’t going to allow American soldiers of Japanese ancestry to serve in combat. They were only going to be allowed to serve as guards! But Jack and the other men felt strongly that the only way for them to prove their loyalty to America was on the battlefield. My brother had a friend named Atherton Richards who was in Washington, D. C., and we heard that he had some influence. I wrote that letter, but I’ve always felt guilty for doing so. Our men did prove their loyalty, but so many of them were killed.

We were sent to Hattiesburg, Mississippi, and that is where the 100th and the 442nd were joined together. Then, we were sent to Fort Benning, Georgia. That was where I lost Jack’s baby, which I had been carrying for seven months. Shortly after that, we were sent back to Hattiesburg, and there the men received their orders to ship out.

I drove up with several of the other wives to New Jersey to see them off. That’s where I kissed Jack good-bye, and that was the last time I ever saw him. Jack was killed in January of 1944. He had said before he left that if he were killed, he wanted to be buried wherever he died. I honored that request, but I often wondered if it might not have been better if I had him brought home to be buried in Hawaii. I wondered if the sacrifices and accomplishments of the 100th Infantry might have been better remembered if Jack had been buried in Hawaii. Maybe more people would have visited his grave.

After the war, in 1947, I married a naval officer, and we were blessed with two sons and two daughters. Just this last summer, one of my granddaughters and her husband went to Italy, and they went to Nettuno to visit Jack’s grave. My granddaughter told me that the man in charge of the cemetery told them wonderful stories of the accomplishments of the 100th Infantry. He also told them that many people from all over the world come to visit Jack’s grave every year. My granddaughter also said that all over Italy they saw plaques expressing appreciation on the part of the Italian people for the sacrifices the allied troops made to set the Italians free from oppressive dictators. It’s nice to know that the sacrifices of our men are remembered and appreciated.

It’s my hope that every student who comes to the University of Hawaii will hear the story of the 100th Infantry because of the naming of Johnson Hall, and that they will be thankful, and appreciate the high cost of our freedom. And, it’s my hope that every one of them — and every one of us — will adopt that same “Go for Broke!” attitude for our lives — that we would live unselfishly, doing our very best for the United States of America.”

The 100th Infantry Battalion, guided by its motto “Remember Pearl Harbor” and later reinforced by the “Go for Broke” spirit brought by incoming soldiers, would, with the 442nd, become one of the most decorated units in U.S. military history.

Perhaps the truest memorial to Jack Johnson lives in the memories shared by the men he led, preserved in the stories and records they left behind, and in the words of Betsy, who said simply, “Everybody liked him. He would have been a very good influence on Hawaiʻi.”

Read Jack Johnson’s Officer profile

“Major John Johnson” Puka Puka Parade Article (March 1948, Vol. 3 No. 2)