CENTER TWP — Fewer and fewer members of The Greatest Generation remain to tell the tale of lives saved, and lost, during World War II.

John A. Elliott, 84, of Center Township has a refrigerator covered with the obituaries of old friends, family members and acquaintances.

"I'm going to have to get a new refrigerator at this rate," Elliott said.

He served as a ship fitter on the USS Bolivar, an attack transport, during World War II.

During her military service in the Asiatic-Pacific Theater from 1943 to 1946, the Bolivar was part of assaults on Saipan and Guam, as well as Iwo Jima.

When Elliott enlisted in the Navy at age 18 in 1943, the need for soldiers and sailors was dire.

"Up until that time it was 9 to 12 weeks of boot camp, but by the time I got there it was cut to five weeks," Elliott said.

Assigned to the Bolivar, Elliott did not serve as a ship fitter until he came across an unattended welding torch and went to work, at which point an officer recognized his talent and recruited him for the job, a jack-of-all trades position that involved everything from welding to plumbing.

"I eventually knew every valve on that ship. Most of the guys who came in were fresh from high school and didn't know much," Elliott said.

He had dropped out of high school at 14, during the Great Depression, to work at a boat shop, where he learned valuable skills like cutting, welding and engine repair.

From 1943 to 1945, Elliott and the other 650 crew and officers aboard the Bolivar carried thousands of Marines to Saipan, Guam, Leyte, Luzon and Iwo Jima, with trips to Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, in between campaigns to refit.

"At first it was pretty rough," said Elliott of being a sailor in combat. "At one point I was on that ship for a year, never setting my foot on the ground."

Each port brought its own dangers.

As the Bolivar docked in Guam, its sailors spied a Japanese ship attempting to sneak out of the harbor at a speed of about 1 knot.

"Finally, we fired a 5-inch shell across the bow, and the prop started moving the other way," Elliott said.

Itching for some action, Elliott joined other sailors in a boarding party to subdue the 50-man skeleton crew aboard the Japanese ship, though he was not ordered to do so.

"I don't think they planned on our coming aboard. We all had Thompson submachine guns, and they didn't want to argue with us," Elliott said.

Shortly after the invasion of Iwo Jima, the Bolivar's boilers blew while it was part of a convoy passing Truk Island, which had been isolated by Allied forces but not taken.

Unable to steam ahead in a zigzag pattern to avoid enemy submarines — the constant changes of course made it difficult for subs to target a ship with torpedoes — the Bolivar was a sitting duck.

Aboard the Bolivar was the commander of the Fifth Fleet, who ordered the convoy's other 20 ships to continue on. An announcement was made for anyone with diesel engine experience to report to the ship's bridge.

"He told us to cool that boiler down and repair it. If it wasn't done by daylight, we would have to take the island," Elliott said.

Working under extreme pressure, Elliott and other sailors managed to fix the broken boiler quickly.

"When you're 18, you can do almost anything," Elliott said.

He remembers such moments with a laugh, but becomes somber when describing island invasions aboard the ship some called the 'Bloody B.'

"You would load up 27 landing craft, sometimes 2,500 Marines, and send them ashore. Then 15 minutes later you get three boats returning with casualties," Elliott said.

"That's when I realized we were fighting for real. You think it's a game until you see blood, then you know damn well, they mean business."

In late 1945, after spending more than 24 months in combat (months spent in friendly waters did not count as "in combat"), Elliott had fulfilled his enlistment requirements. But he stayed aboard the Bolivar to participate in Operation Flying Carpet.

Bolivar put to sea in September 1945, as part of a fleet returning veterans and freed prisoners of war from the Philippines, Marshall, Admiralty and Caroline islands.

"Most of these guys had bellies out to here," Elliott said, extending his arms their full length in front of him.

"They looked like they were pregnant, and sickly, and their arms were stick thin,"

When the Bolivar steamed into San Francisco in January 1946, she carried almost 2,200 Marines and sailors, most of them former prisoners of war.

Elliott was assigned to an outgoing unit and received his discharge in May 1946 at the rank of Ship Fitter 1st Class.

He was awarded $10 for each month spent in combat, totaling $240, as well as $35 for a bus or train ticket home.

Elliott, raised on a Chicora farm, would sell his custom-made uniform, gold watch and a diamond ring he had bought during his time overseas, scraping together almost $3,000 to start a business upon his return home.

"That drive was what kept me going while I was over there," Elliott said.

But the transition back to civilian life was not easy.

Today, many soldiers returning from Afghanistan and Iraq are diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, but the long-term effects of combat on a soldier were not officially recognized in 1946.

"I think we all had that coming back from World War II. It didn't take much to set you off," Elliott said.

He remembers attending a carnival in West Sunbury shortly after his return, where exploding fireworks prompted his instincts to take cover.

"Boy, I was clear under a truck when they went off, like it was a shelling," Elliott said.

But he persevered.

Elliott worked as an OSHA inspector at Pullman Standard before opening Elliot's Used Car Sales, which remains open at 1915 N. Main St. Ext., in Center Township.

He married in 1950 and the business is still operated by one of his two sons.

He lost a third son to a vehicle accident in 1969, and his wife three years ago to the debilitating effects of a 2000 car accident.

Their obituaries share space with the others on the refrigerator.

But Elliott's story is not yet at an end.

He is just a small fraction of the millions who sacrificed their livelihood, comfort, or very lives to ensure the freedom Americans hold today, and is quick to point out that fact.

"I don't want this story to be about me," Elliott said.

"I was just another guy, doing my job."