HENRY FLEMING IS 81-years-old and the senior citizen of Tinian. I first met this remarkable man in 1949. He ran a store in the village and, for many years, had the only hotel on the island. The Old Fleming Hotel is situated on a hilltop about a mile from the village. His son, Alfred, has built a new ten-room inn in the village called, appropriately, the New Fleming Hotel .

"We're still here," remarked Henry every day about noon, when he could always be found in the village store having his first beer of the day.

One of those fascinating people you always hear about but never get to meet, Henry Fleming was born on Majuro in the Marshall Islands. He is half Marshallese, one-quarter Danish and one-quarter Scotch. In 1913, he went to Yap to work for the legendary Captain O'Keefe as an apprentice clerk, then a bookkeeper.

Adept in seven languages, he prefers Chamorro which most people on the island speak. His English is excellent, even though spoken with a heavy accent.

"When Japan took Yap in 1919 from the Germans," Henry recalled, "they put me in jail in Yokohama, Japan. They thought I was a German."

"It took me six months to convince them I was from the Marshalls," he continued. "Finally they let me go and I had to work my own passage back to Yap on a ship. That really made me mad!"

After he returned from prison, he ran the only store on Yap, married a Chamorro girl living there and raised nine children.

"In 1948 after the war," Henry continued, "the U.S. Navy Commander of the Marianas came looking for people to settle on Tinian. They brought 18 of us, all elders, here for what you call an inspection trip."

Henry's seven-language accent was lapsing into Chamorro as he sipped his beer.

"We like what we see, so we go back to Yap and have a big meeting of all the Chamorros. We decided to come so the Navy brought a LST ship and we moved everything - chickens, cows, pigs - everything we had. About 240 people came," he went on.

"Are you glad you came, Henry?", I asked.

"Yes, this is a good place. Good soil, good water, good place to raise children. I have over 40 grandchildren and great grandchildren. That's enough," he smiled through his twinkling eyes. "The main thing is, we're still here."

As I studied Henry Fleming, I realized 'I was gazing upon one of the unknown, yet true pioneers of this great expanse of water. Tinian, today, is largely Henry and his brave group of Chamorros from Yap. I thought of similar groups who went west in our own pioneer days.

Two Tinian farmers

SMALL FARMING IS the chief occupation of most of the island residents, so I began looking for the leading farmer. It didn't take long to find him??a Korean by the name of Jesus (pronounced Hey?sus) Matsumoto. Unlike the Chamorros from Yap to the south, Jesus came to Tinian from the north, first moving from Korea to Pagan (pronounced Pah?gan) to farm for the Japanese, then after the war he moved to Saipan. He journeyed over to Tinian in 1949.

"Not much to do here but work," philosophized Matsumoto. "Work makes good farm."

"Why did you move over to Tinian?", I questioned.

"Well, not many people here 1949. Good soil, water plentiful. I pick farm near well. I got only irrigated farm Tinian. When no rain I turn sprinklers. Grow good vegetables," he explained.

His wrinkled face revealed countless hours under the tropical sun. Certainly he had seen a lot of history made during his 37 years away from his native Korea.

"I see many airplane going over Pagan in 1945. How many you have here?", he asked, referring to the long streams of bombers leaving from or returning to bases on Tinian, Guam or Saipan during the height of the air campaign against Japan's home islands. "Quite a few," I informed.

"We wait Amelican to come take Pagan but finally ship come one day and tell us war over. That's when I go to Saipan then come over here," he said. Jesus Matsumoto learned the work ethic early in life and his dedication to good farming has been an asset to Tinian.

EVERYONE ON THE island seemed to be a transplant from some other place, or had been born here of parents who were transplants since the war.

I knew if I looked long enough I would eventually find a real native. Not only did I find a real native, but one to whom many Americans owe their lives. Manuel de la Cruz, 55, was born on Tinian in 1921. He wandered off to Saipan about the beginning of World War II and was captured by American forces during our invasion of Saipan in June 1944.

Through interrogation, it soon became apparent to our officials that Manuel possessed a wealth of information about Tinian and the Japanese fortifications there. Since he was a native Chamorro, he felt no particular loyalty to the Japanese so he agreed to assist in the American invasion.

On July 24, 1944, Manuel was on board the invasion command ship off the northwest coast of Tinian advising commanders as the Marines stormed ashore.

"I tell Americans where best beach is to bring heavy equipment ashore," he remembered. "We have only two or three beaches where tanks can be brought in. "

He pointed out to me the very shallow water and. hidden reefs of the primary invasion beach, while perched on rough pinnacles of
coral near a sandy beach not more than

seventy five feet wide.

Beneath us was a rusty tank tread from an American tank which had been in the surf for over 30 years.

Nearby was an old Japanese pillbox of heavy concrete and steel with a gaping hole in its face, partially hidden by the jungle. "I tell them about the gun emplacement there," he motioned to the pillbox. "They use big battleship gun and knock it out." As I listened to his account I could almost envision the American lives saved by Manuel's detailed knowledge of the island.