Johnson: Sand collection stirs up memories

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Cypress College professor Russ Flynn holds black sand from the beaches of Iwo Jima that has touched multiple people's lives. He received the sand from a Marine who was stationed in Okinawa. H. LORREN AU JR., THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

This is a tale about black sand.

But then again, it is a story about so much more than just sand.

Russ Flynn, 66, collects it. So many people know this. And he has stories.

He has collected it from almost every corner of the globe. On each trip he takes, he makes sure to pack at least a gallon bag's worth of it in his suitcase.

"But since Sept. 11, it's not so easy bringing sand back anymore," he laments. "Homeland Security always thinks it is plastic explosives, for whatever reason."

He teaches physical oceanography at Cypress College, a job he performed for 41 years until retiring last year. The school brought him back to continue teaching the course on a part-time basis this year. One of the sections of his course is on beaches. That explains the sand.

Now that he is essentially retired, he stashes the sand in the rooms of his two grown children in his Santa Ana home. Every year during "beach week" he passes it around the classroom, believing that if his students touch the sand, "they can make it their own."

The tale of the black sand goes back almost six years, Flynn said.

He had a young man, a Marine, taking his class on the GI Bill. And one day, knowing his professor was an avid fan of sand, the Marine brought a gallon-size zip-close bag of it to class. It was black sand. Did he know, the Marine asked him while holding up the bag, what kind it was?

Flynn almost stammered. He knew it was volcanic sand from the Pacific.

The sand was from the island of Iwo Jima, site of the monthlong battle between Americans and Japanese that featured some of the fiercest and bloodiest fighting of the war in the Pacific during World War II.

Flynn knew the sand was fluffy, the residue of volcanic ash, and had sent the invading soldiers plummeting nearly to their hips in sand that simply shredded their uniforms to pieces.

"You have to respect this," Flynn told the Marine. "There was a heavy price paid. And I told the students, and still do today, that this is some of the most sacred sand in the world. A lot of blood was shed where this sand came from."

The Marine, whose name Flynn has long since forgotten, had gotten permission from the Japanese government for his reconnaissance unit, which was stationed on Okinawa, to visit the island – not an easy thing to do in the decades following the war.

Flynn thanked the Marine, and took the bag of sand to his office on campus. It was then he realized how precious the contents of that plastic bag were.

He had an office partner back then – Bob, a professor since retired. Bob took one look at the bag and, remembering Flynn's love of beach sand, came up to him and held the bag.

"That's not from Iwo?" Bob said, questioning. Flynn nodded.

"Can I possibly have a sample?" his office partner said almost reverentially. Sure, Flynn replied. Why?

Bob, it turned out, had an uncle he had never met who served in the Marines during World War II. He had seen pictures of his uncle and heard his family tell stories about him, he said. During the invasion of Iwo Jima, the uncle was at the wheel of a landing craft that took a direct hit from Japanese artillery, killing him and everyone onboard.

Flynn poured out a bit of his black sand for Bob.

And then, two weeks ago, it was beach week. Flynn, as always, was passing around the black sand to show the students in his classroom. After the class, a young Japanese woman lingered until everyone had left.

"That, in my experience, is rarely a good thing," Flynn said. "They always have a sad story, someone has died or there is a problem where they will have to miss class for awhile. I readied myself."

She was very solemn as she approached. She stared for long moments at the bag of black sand on his desk.

"Would you consider honoring my family," the young woman finally said, "by letting me have a bit of that sand?"

She had a great-great-uncle, she told him, who had served on Iwo Jima during the war. That was all the family knew, she said, and they never heard from him again.

After the war, the family never received anything back from the Japanese military. She assumes her uncle was placed in a mass grave somewhere on the island.

For years her family had sought permission to go to Iwo Jima, but every time they had been turned down, she explained.

Flynn went to an adjoining room. He found a little bag, poured half of his black sand into it and gave it to her.

He will not identify the girl. That is not the point of the story, he said. "I suppose what really struck me is what a waste war is," he said. "The way we work so hard to demonize our enemies, an exercise that serves only to make it easier to go to war.

"But the reality is killing is killing. It devastates families like Bob's, as much as it did that young woman's.

"No matter which side you are on, you still bleed; you still die. In the end, we are all humans."

Contact the writer: bjohnson@ocregister.com or 714-796-2265.

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