Jack Gutman was born in December 1925 in San Francisco, California, the son of a salesman who had nine children. The Great Depression was a difficult time for the family and his father had to travel to make a living selling apples. Gutman's father, who spoke seven languages, served in World War 1, after which he worked in a hotel in Shanghai, China. Gutman's mother, from a wealthy Russian family, was a ballerina. When her family fled the Bolsheviks, they went to Shanghai, and the two young people met, married and settled in the United States. Gutman, their third child, went to high school in New York, belonged to a gang, and said there were fights every night. To escape that environment, Gutman decided to join the armed services, a mistake, he said, because the war made the gang fights "look like a church picnic." He was hanging around with his gang when news of Pearl Harbor broke. Gutman was shocked, and wanted to enlist right away, but his father had to be convinced, and that took some time. He chose the Navy because he had heard that in that branch he would always have a bed and food. After boot camp in New York, Gutman thought he was going to be an aerial radio man, but an urgent need arose for medics, and his training was diverted. After an accelerated medical course in Bainbridge, Maryland, he was a Navy corpsman.

After a brief leave, Jack Gutman shipped out, and after a tour through United Kingdom ports picking up supplies and personnel he landed at the Netley Hospital in England. The facility was in poor shape, and the Americans helped to tidy it up. Gutman was among a group of guys chosen for training in cliff climbing and evacuating wounded. They were sworn to secrecy. Gutman then found himself in the armada that was storming the beaches of Normandy. He did not expect what he witnessed. The waters were very rough, and many were seasick. Gutman wasn't among the initial waves of soldiers who went in, but the fighting was furious, and when he reached Utah Beach [Annotator's Note: Gutman catches his breath and chokes up], he figured nothing would be alive. In the water, there were beach obstacles to overcome, and on the beach there were land mines and barbed wire, and a lot of casualties. Gutman had no gun, but carried a medical pack and stretchers. The first soldier he approached [Annotator's Note: Gutman sniffs and cries; apologizes] had been shot in the groin, others were screaming, and there were many horrible sights. Gutman points out that adrenaline moves the soldiers on, but to the medics, it becomes personal, and they feel responsible for saving the lives of those they treat. He said that he tried to reassure even those he had to watch die. He was only 17, and while other kids his age were having parties, he was thrown into this crazy war. Gutman asserts that he was proud to do the job, but having seen "body parts laying around," was an awakening that there was a son, husband, father that would never go home. At the time, he did his job, and when it was over, couldn't remember what he did on that beach; but Gutman has flashbacks of the carnage. After the beach was secured, he went back to England, and wound up in the officers' ward of the hospital he had earlier helped to restore.

Once Utah Beach was secured, Jack Gutman returned to England with the evacuees, and wound up in the officers' ward. His duty required his caring for patients who were dying, and the most traumatic task for Gutman was packing the cavities of the dead to keep them from leaking. The tough incidents kept accumulating in Gutman's mind, and he welcomed a chance to go home for 30 days. The Navy then sent Gutman to California and put into an outfit called a "beach battalion." He went through more training, this time with the Marines, for amphibious assaults. Gutman said the Marines toughened him up, and he admired them for it. He boarded the USS Cullman (APA-78) and went to Pearl Harbor for additional training. One night, he was called to the scene of a foxhole that two guys had dug too close to the road; a tank had run over them, and the sight was horrible, it was like mincemeat. What affected Gutman most was the loss of two young men during training. Back on the Cullman, he sailed for Eniwetok, where they had a pleasant shore leave, then, back at Pearl Harbor, he transferred to the USS Bowie (APA-137). The Bowie joined a big armada headed for Okinawa. Gutman said that enlisted personnel had little advance notice of what they were going to do, but a few days before reaching the combat zone, there was a briefing about how proud and tough the Japanese fighters could be, and a warning that they could expect some rough times. The medical group followed the main forces into Okinawa, but unlike Normandy, the fighting was taking place inland, not on the beach. The number of dead and wounded was enormous, and Gutman found it strange that so many guys were calling for their "Momma."

Jack Gutman said that because there were so many, the wounded were taken off Okinawa and brought back to various ships, including his ship, the USS Bowie (APA-137). Back on board, Gutman was taking a cigarette break next to a big gun when the alarm for battle stations was sounded. Before he could move, the gun was fired, and the impact affected his hearing forever. He ran back to the first aid station, and he witnessed what he called "the strangest thing he ever ran into." The battleship USS New Mexico (BB-40) was about a football field away, and Gutman saw the look on the pilot's face of a Japanese plane coming in low; the plane veered over and plowed right into the bridge of the battleship. The explosion killed the captain and 80 men aboard the New Mexico. This was a real shock to Gutman, because his job was to save lives, and here he realized that someone could be purposely brainwashed to kill himself. The Bowie went back to Pearl Harbor with the wounded, and Gutman did a lot of drinking while on a three day pass. The Bowie took off again, and Gutman said the crew knew it would be for the invasion of Japan. The word passed about the first, and then the second atomic bomb, then the announcement was made that the Japanese had surrendered. Defying the sailor's expectation of returning to Pearl Harbor, the Bowie proceeded to Sasebo as planned. When Gutman saw the gun emplacements lining both sides of the bay, he recognized that thousands and thousands of people would have died if Truman [Annotator's Note: President Harry S. Truman] had not ordered the atomic bomb drops. Instead of firing on the American ships, the natives were waving at them. No action. Gutman said it was a great relief. [Annotator's Note: Gutman laughs.] During the month he was in the occupation force in Sasebo, Gutman went ashore on leave, and called it a great experience. Once back on the Bowie, he returned to Pearl Harbor and on to San Pedro, California.

When he got to San Pedro, California, Jack Gutman realized he had enough points to leave the Navy. He took a train home and arrived in time for Christmas [Annotator's Note: Christmas 1945]. Asked to recall, Gutman said he belonged to SNAG 56 [Annotator's Note: Special Navy Advance Group 56] while he was in Europe; in the Pacific he belonged to a beach battalion [Annotator's Note: based aboard the attack transport USS Bowie (APA-137)]. After his combat experiences, Gutman decided he wanted to be a doctor. He took night school classes, and before algebra he would tell jokes. He met his wife in that class. The children came along, and he never made it to medical school. He was afraid to tell people about his flashbacks, and busied himself with work and comedy. His uncle helped him get a comedy engagement working under the name Jackie Walker. It was very lucrative work, and a fascinating life. Gutman called it his "band aid" for his post traumatic stress.

Jack Gutman said the flashbacks would come when he went to bed, and the memories were magnified: the invasions, the wounded men, the body parts, the screaming, the blood [Annotator's Note: Gutman gasps and cries] and everything else. It was tough. He felt he had a big wound that kept bleeding through the band aid for 66 years. He was successful in several other career choices, masking his difficulties. Then things took a turn, and when he was at his lowest ebb, he went to an interview at a veteran's hospital, admitted losing his hearing at Okinawa, and, after some prodding, finally revealed his flashbacks. He was set up with a therapist, who got him to relive his experiences, which helped him greatly. His religion was a comfort, as well. After some difficulties, the Veterans' Administration qualified him for PTSD [Annotator's Note: post traumatic stress disorder] benefits. [Annotator's Note: Gutman begins to cry.]

The flashbacks Jack Gutman experienced began when he was leaving the Pacific for the United States. They continued, no matter what he did, and he drank alcohol to try to forget. He doesn't think his family ever knew the source of his difficulties. While watching the movie "Saving Private Ryan," he found it so realistic that he broke down crying, and was a "basket case" for several hours. Gutman said Steven Spielberg did a great job on the movie. His therapist said it was ok to have reactions to things like that. He no longer has the flashbacks, but is still emotional. He greatly admires what Gary Sinise is doing on behalf of the veterans. When Gutman's daughter suggested he visit The National WWII Museum, he was delighted to learn that his air fare for the trip was waived by the airlines. Today he applauds the real heroes of the war, he said he would do it again, and wants young people to appreciate what thousands of men died for.