veterans remember iwo jima€¦ · the costly final push toward the japanese homeland ... fighter...

World War II

Chronicles A Quarterly Publication of the World War II Veterans Committee ISSUE XXVIII, Spring, 2005

IWO JIMA

60th Anniversary

Veterans Remember

The Battle of Iwo Island has been won. The United States Marinesby their individual and collective courage have conquered a basewhich is as necessary to us in our continuing forward movement

toward final victory as it was vital to the enemy in staving offultimate defeat.

By their victory, the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Marine Divisions and otherunits of the Fifth Amphibious Corps have made an accounting to

their country which only history will be able to value fully.Among the Americans who served on Iwo Island,

uncommon valor was a common virtue.

-Admiral Chester Nimitz

World War II Chronicles - Spring, 2005 - 2

World War II Chronicles

A Quarterly Publication of the World War II Veterans Committee

-In This Issue--In This Issue--In This Issue--In This Issue--In This Issue-

WWW.WWIIVETS.COM ISSUE XXVIII, Spring, 2005

Articles

5Iwo Jima: Storming Sulfur Island byColonel Joseph H. Alexander, USMC-RetThe armed forces of the United States seizeone of the most heavily defended islands inthe world

15Raising the Flag on Mt. Suribachi byG. Greeley WellsThe story behind the most memorablemoment of World War II and an image thatwould live forever

Features

World War II Book Club

In Their Own WordsHighlighting Love Company by Donald O.Dencker

From the Latest Generation

Our Brother byJean Miller, Josephine Ross, Meri Cox,and Susan HaneyFour sisters remember a brother who madethe ultimate sacrifice on Iwo Jima

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Now Available from the World War II Veterans Committee!

Iwo Jima:Fifty Years of Memories

VHS (1 hour) $22.95

To order, send $22.95 for each copy desired(includes shipping and handling) to:

World War II Veterans Committee1030 15th St. NW, Suite 856

Washington, DC 20005

Or order with credit card by calling202-777-7272 ext. 220

It was one of the last major battles of World War II, fought on a tiny island only eightmiles square. When it was over, nearly 30,000 American and Japanese men lay dead.

Tens of thousands were wounded.

This video shows the horror of Iwo Jima, told 50 years after the battle in 1995 by U.S.servicemen who survived. For many of these brave men, their words here are the first

they have spoken about their ordeal since 1945 - a silence that has haunted many ofthem to this day.

Already having aired nationally on PBS and The Learning Channel and includingextensive combat footage and photographs not previously available to the public, Iwo

Jima: Fifty Years of Memories is a moving tribute to all the men who fought in thishorrific campaign and the thousands who didn’t come home.

Committee Activities32Okinawa: A Bloody Prelude to Victory by Hunter ScottThe costly final push toward the Japanese homeland

Uncommon Valor by Steven MosleyA story of the often-overlooked soldiers without whomvictory at Iwo Jima would have never been possible

The Face of a Young Pilot by Justin R. TaylanA Japanese Zero pilot at Iwo Jima fulfills a lifelong wish19

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In early 1945, victory for the Allies was in sight.Nazi Germany was crumbling, and the slow butsteady advance of the American forces in the Pa-cific brought them ever closer to the heart of Im-perial Japan. Yet in order to intensify the aerialbombing of the Japanese homeland that woulddeal the Empire its deathblow, an island base forfighter escorts would be needed. Sitting 650 miles from Tokyo was the vol-canic island of Iwo Jima, a small outpost placed directly in the path to Japanand an obvious target for invasion. The American command expected atough, but winnable battle. What they got was carnage beyond imagination.

Iwo Jima:60 Years Later

The Road to Victory

September 15 - 29 2005

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Sixty years ago, in the spring and summer of 1945, theAllied armies stormed across Europe and into the heart of

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World War II veterans attending the Committee’s 2004 D-Day 60th AnniversaryTour stand before the bronze statue entitled “The Spirit of American Youth” at

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“It was an operation of one phase and one tactic. From the time the engage-ment was joined until the mission was completed it was a matter of frontalassault maintained with relentless pressure.”—Lt. Gen. Holland M. Smith, USMCCommander, Expeditionary Troops, Iwo JimaTask Force 56 Action Report, March 1945

Iwo Jima was the most heavily for-tified island the Americans wouldassault in World War II. The strate-gic benefits of acquiring airfieldswithin fighter range of Tokyo wouldbe significant—the risks in attackingthat steep, volcanic fortress, “theDoorstep to Japan,” would be enor-mous. No U.S. amphibious forcecould have tackled this mission anyearlier in the war. Seizing Iwo Jimawould require full command of theair and sea, overwhelming fire-power, imaginative naval campaignplanning, seasoned shock troops,and violent, sustained amphibiousexecution.

Iwo Jima was a latecomer as a potential objective for U.S. am-phibious forces. Many planners figured that the campaigns in thePhilippines and Palau would be followed by a combined opera-tion against Formosa. Others, including Fifth Fleet CommanderRaymond Spruance, believed the wiser choice would be to strikenorth-by-northwest against the Volcano and Ryukyu Islands. SeizeIwo Jima, he suggested, then Okinawa, in preparation for thefinal invasions of Kyushu and Honshu.

Iwo Jima represented a major obstacle to the strategic bombingof mainland Japan by B-29s based in the Marianas. The island,lying about halfway between Saipan and Tokyo, contained an earlywarning radar system that provided Tokyo with an invaluabletwo-hour alert of each approaching B-29 raid. Further, Iwo-based fighters launched to intercept the incoming bombers, forc-ing them to fly a circuitous route, requiring more fuel and dimin-ishing their payloads. Fighters on Honshu, alerted by Iwo Jima’sradar, would be waiting for the American bombers, forcing themto fly higher altitudes, further sacrificing bombing accuracy. Af-ter each mission, Iwo fighters sallied forth again to swarm around

crippled U.S. Super-Fortresses struggling to return to the Marianas.And Japanese medium bombers staged through Iwo for dam-aging raids on the U.S. airfields on Saipan and Tinian, destroyingmore B-29s on the ground than Gen. Curtis E. LeMay’s crewslost during their strike missions. The vaunted strategic bombingcampaign had proven a bust so far. Iwo Jima had to go.

On 3 October 1944 the Joint Chiefsof Staff directed Nimitz to capturethe eight-square-mile island. WithHalsey still mired in the “tar pit” ofPeleliu, Nimitz gave the newest task-ing to Spruance. Reduced to its nub,the Fifth Fleet’s mission was twofold:enhance the strategic bombing cam-paign; facilitate the ultimate invasionof the Japanese homeland. Nimitzemphasized speed of execution, ashe had before Tarawa, saying: “It isa cardinal principle of amphibiousoperations that shipping be localizedand exposed at the objective for theminimum possible time.” This guid-ance would prove increasingly diffi-

cult to honor: seizing Iwo would take five full weeks; Okinawa,twice as long.

Operation Detachment, the campaign to seize Iwo Jima, becameof necessity a stepchild wedged between the larger campaigns ofLuzon and Okinawa. This narrow window of time dominatedthe planning for Detachment. Even as late as 1944-45 Americalacked the resources to conduct two, simultaneous, full-scale am-phibious operations in the Pacific. The JCS twice postponed D-Day for Iwo because slow progress in Luzon delayed the turn-over of naval gunfire support ships and landing craft fromMacArthur’s forces to the Fifth Fleet. Nor was there any slack atthe other end of the schedule. Spruance had to complete theseizure of Iwo Jima and reposition his amphibious forces to sup-port the Okinawa campaign well before 1 April. That was thelatest date Okinawa could be invaded without incurring unduerisk from the summer typhoon season.

These time constraints did not unduly bother Spruance. He kneweach of his principle task force commanders to be a veteran ofurgent planning and hard campaigning in the Central Pacific. He

Iwo Jima:Storming Sulfur IslandBy Col. Joseph Alexander, USMC (Ret)

Battle-weary Marines display trophies of war


led a seasoned, proven team. Marc Mitscher would again com-mand the Fast Carrier Task Force (TF 58); Kelly “Terrible” Turner,the Joint Expeditionary Force; “Handsome Harry” Hill, the At-tack Force. Rear Adm. W.H.P. “Spike” Blandy, highly regardedfor his cool-headed handling of an amphibious group at Saipanand Tinian, would take command of the massive AmphibiousSupport Force (in effect, the “advance force commander”).

Marine major general Harry Schmidt would command V Am-phibious Corps as he had done so ably at Tinian. Schmidt wouldhave the distinction at Iwo Jima of commanding the largest forceof Marines ever committed to a single battle: a three-divisionlanding force numbering seventy thousand men. But Spruanceand Turner (to the displeasure of Nimitz) com-plicated the command structure by inviting Lt.Gen. Holland Smith along for one last campaign.Smith would serve as commanding general of“expeditionary troops, ” a contrived billet in thiscase where one amphibious corps attacked oneisland. Smith knew this, and endeavored to keepout of the Corps commander’s way, but Schmidtwould forever be resentful of Smith “stealing histhunder.”

Smith actually contributed significantly at the high-est echelons to the success of the campaign. Byserving as the eminently quotable Marine spokes-man for the media—and by “baby-sitting” VIPvisitors like Navy Secretary James Forrestal—Smithallowed Schmidt to fight the tactical battle with-out distraction. And it would be Holland Smith’s role to providea necessary “reality check” for the combat correspondents gath-ered on the flagship before D-Day. “This is going to be a roughone, ” he predicted, “we could suffer as many as fifteen thousandcasualties here.” Few believed him.

Aside from aerial photography (and periscope photographs fromthe submarine Spearfish), American intelligence collection and analy-sis prior to Iwo Jima proved less effective than most precedingamphibious campaigns. Analysts looked at the island’s severe watershortage and concluded that no more than thirteen thousandtroops could be accommodated there, a 40 percent shortfall.Analysts also believed the senior officer on the island to be Maj.Gen. Kotono Osuga, assuming incorrectly that little-known Lt.Gen. Tadamichi Kuribayashi maintained his headquarters on ChichiJima, 140 miles away. Planners underestimated the proliferationof Japanese major weapons. “The Japs had more heavy gunsthan we expected, ” admitted Kelly Turner to a New York Timesreporter during the battle.

Nor did Turner, Smith, or Schmidt pay much attention to theevidence of the transformation in Japanese anti-amphibious tac-tics manifested at Biak and Peleliu. They expected another Saipan,another General Obata. They anticipated a vigorous defense along

the perimeter, followed by a massive banzai attack the first night.“We welcome a counterattack, ” growled Smith. “That’s whenwe break their backs.” A revealing 5 January 1945 intelligencereport that forecast a radically different Iwo defense organized indepth along the lines of Peleliu attracted little top-level attention.

Iwo Jima represents a paradox in American naval history. Thebattle resulted in total victory, acquisition of strategic airfields vir-tually on Japanese territory, and an enduring symbolic legacy. YetIwo Jima also became the bloodiest battle in the history of theU.S. Marine Corps, the only major Pacific assault where the land-ing force sustained higher casualties than they inflicted on the Japa-nese garrison. As Smith would shortly be forced to admit, “This

is the toughest fight in the 169 years of our Corps.”Why such a surprise this late in the war? Whatmade “Sulfur Island” such a tough nut to crack?

The Americans at first believed the Japanese hadspent years preparing Iwo’s intricate, mutually sup-porting defenses. They would be surprised tolearn later that the fortifications they encounteredin February 1945 had largely resulted from a crashconstruction program completed barely a weekbefore the invasion. As late as February 1944only fifteen hundred troops occupied the unfor-tified site. It took Nimitz’s Central Pacific driveto alert IGHQ to Iwo Jima’s strategic vulnerabil-ity. But it would take a strong-willed, imaginativecommander to reverse the rigidity of servicepolitics and the Bushido code and turn the island

into the most formidable fortress in the Pacific.

Imperial Headquarters in 1944 created a new subtheater, theOgasawara Area, which included islands of that name, plus theneighboring Bonin and Volcano Islands—to which they assigneda freshly formed, patched-together command designated as the29th Division. Many of these soldiers would be assigned to IwoJima. Navy forces on the island were encouraged to “cooper-ate” with the area-division commander. Neither the subtheaternor the division reflected inspired staff work. The critical differ-ence would lie in the personality of the newly designated com-mander, Lt. Gen. Tadamichi Kuribayashi.

Kuribayashi may have been a stranger to the Americans in mid-1944, but by the following March certain Marine riflemen werecalling him “the best damned general on this stinking island.”Kuribayashi was fifty-three years old, tall and portly, a native ofNagano Prefecture in central Honshu, and a descendent of samuraiancestors. A 1914 graduate of the Military Academy, he servedthe ensuing thirty-one years as a cavalry officer. With the out-break of war in Asia, Kuribayashi commanded a cavalry regi-ment in Manchuria, a brigade in China. He participated in thecapture of Hong Kong in December 1941 as chief of staff,23rd Army. With the emperor’s approval, he took command of

the Imperial Guard Division in Tokyo. From this post in lateMay 1944 Prime Minister Hideki Tojo selected him to commandthe suddenly vital island called Iwo Jima (literally “Sulfur Island”in Japanese).

Kuribayashi’s military record provides few clues as to what madehim such a formidable commander at Iwo Jima. His experiencecommanding men in combat represents an asset, but this palesagainst the combat record of his contemporaries who fought inthe tougher battles in Malaya, the Philippines, or New Guinea.He was an unreconstructed cavalryman, refusing to “transition”into tanks and armored warfare, and therefore of diminishingtactical value to his service. As a colonel assignedto the Ministry of the Army in 1937, for example,he served as head of equestrian affairs in the lo-gistics branch—more concerned with forage andfarriers than the more central issues of war plansor mobilization.

Given this unremarkable record, it is no wonderAmerican intelligence analysts failed to predictKuribayashi’s tactical brilliance. Iwo Jima some-how invoked a metamorphosis for Kuribayashi.In his final command he proved to be tough,cool-headed, pragmatic, innovative, and fear-less—a warrior in the best definition of anynation’s army. Holland Smith’s grudging post-war assessment summed it all up: “Of all ouradversaries in the Pacific, Kuribayashi was themost redoubtable.”

General Kuribayashi came to Iwo Jima during the second weekof June 1944 and found the small garrison ill-prepared for war,a hodge-podge of squabbling units at each other’s throats. Sev-eral disasters occurred in short order. On 15 and 24 June, RearAdm. Joseph J. “Jocko” Clark’s fast carrier task group struckIwo hard, sweeping away the inexperienced Japanese aircraft andbombing the island with impunity. Then during 4-5 July, Ameri-can battleships and cruisers bombarded the island at leisure. Re-corded one member of the Japanese garrison: “For two days wecowered like rats.”

Relief came from an unexpected quarter. The U.S. decision totackle Palau after the Marianas provided the Japanese a half-yeargrace period in which to fortify Iwo Jima. Kuribayashi took fulladvantage of this lull. With the fall of Saipan, IGHQ divertedthe veteran 145th Infantry Regiment, earmarked to reinforce theMarianas, to Iwo Jima for duty. This was a windfall. Althoughnumerically small, the ranks of the 145th were filled with menfrom Kagoshima, renowned fighters, commanded by Col. MasuoIkeda. Kuribayashi would build his defense with this regiment atits core; he would die with Ikeda at his side. In early August, RearAdm. Toshinosuke Ichimaru reported to Iwo for duty, a legend-ary naval aviator, long crippled, hungry for a fight. The next

week Maj. Gen. Joichiro Sanada, operations chief of the ArmyGeneral Staff, visited the island. Like Kuribayashi, he was ap-palled by the unpreparedness he saw. As he recorded in his diary,“Kuribayashi warns that if an American task force of the size ofthe July 4th fleet returns with a division and a half of troops hecould sustain the defense for at best a week to ten days.” Sanadahad great influence in Tokyo. Soon, more troops, weapons, andammo began flowing to Iwo Jima.

As Kuribayashi studied the topography of the Volcano and BoninIslands, he concluded that Iwo Jima was the only one with thepotential for a bomber strip. This would inevitably attract the

Americans. Kuribayashi saw the paradox. IwoJima served only a limited tactical advantage tothe Japanese as an early warning site and fighter-interceptor base. On the larger scale, the islandwas a strategic liability to the Japanese. Ameri-can seizure of Iwo would be catastrophic to theJapanese war effort, bringing the home islandswithin range of medium bombers and fighterescorts to augment the B-29s. Sensing this,Kuribayashi spent weeks determining whether theJapanese would be better off simply blowingthe island up—or at least sinking the central pla-

teau into the sea. Some demolition expertscame down from Tokyo, examined the volca-nic rock, and said it could not be done.

Kuribayashi then took a long look at the de-fense tactics recently employed by Japanese

commanders defending Biak, Peleliu, Angaur, and Luzon. Ineach case the Japanese provided only minimal resistance at thepoint of landing but established interior positions in depth. Whilethe Americans at Peleliu had scoffed at these tactics as “the Cor-nered Rat defense,” their ultimate victory had come only at a veryhigh cost in casualties and after an unexpectedly protracted cam-paign. Kuribayashi concluded that this was the best he couldexpect to accomplish: fortify the interior of the island so expertlythat the Americans would take exorbitant casualties and perhapslose heart. If all else failed, a prolonged and lethal defense ofIwo Jima might make the American public have second thoughtsabout invading the Japanese home islands.

Kuribayashi then announced his decisions. He would establishthe headquarters of his 109th Division on Iwo Jima, not on thelarger, safer, and more comfortable island of Chichi Jima. Heordered the evacuation of all civilians from the island, includingthe “comfort girls.” He abolished all booze. He ordered allfacilities moved underground. Finally, and most controversial ofall, he stated his plan to concede the amphibious landing andinstead concentrate his defenses in depth among the broken ter-rain of the central and northern highlands. Further, he forbadeany large-scale banzai attacks. Counterattacks would only belaunched by small units and for limited tactical objectives. He


Lt. Gen. Tadamichi Kuribayashi,commander of Japanese forces on

Iwo Jima


would make maximum use of the night, sending out “prowlingwolves, ” small groups of marauders to gather intelligence, de-stroy enemy crew-served weapons, or kill sentries.

Kuribayashi’s difficulties in enforcing these unpopular decisionswere compounded by the duality in service command lines thatcontinued to fracture Japanese operations. He was clearly seniorto Admiral Ichimaru (and the two actually got along well), butIchimaru felt pressured by some of his own hotheaded officersand the Navy General Staff to argue for beachfront defenses.Against his better judgment, Kuribayashiagreed to a compromise. He would per-mit construction of 135 pillboxes along theobvious landing beaches in the southernpart of the island. The project took threemonths; the Americans would overrun allof them in the battle’s first three hours.

General Sanada continued to ramrod sup-port for Kuribayashi from the Army Gen-eral Staff. Surprisingly, Kuribayashi did notask for more troops. The earlier arrival ofthe 26th Tank Regiment commanded bythe colorful Baron Takeichi Nishi, addedto Ikeda’s troops, gave Kuribayashi a solidcore of veterans. Many of the newlyformed battalions in the 2nd IndependentMixed Brigade contained little more thanraw recruits, more liabilities than assets.Kuribayashi wanted neither to saturate hisdefenses nor to overwhelm the island’smeager water supplies. He had the gunsand the shooters; now he needed fortifica-tion specialists. Sanada quickly providedmining engineers, quarry experts, fortress units, and labor battal-ions. The island’s volcanic ash lent itself to efficient cement mix;its soft interior rock yielded to thousands of picks and spades.

Kuribayashi kept his training simple: antitank defenses, night infil-trations, and marksmanship. Each man’s defensive position wasto be his grave, his military shrine. Knowing how isolated thebattlefields would quickly become, the general posted “Coura-geous Battle Vows” in each bunker. If each man took ten Ameri-can lives for his own, he told them, Japan could win a gloriousvictory.

An assessment of the Japanese garrison on the eve of the battlereveals a checkered mix of strengths and weaknesses. On theplus side, Kuribayashi had transformed the divided, dispiritedgarrison into a force imbued with readiness to remain in pre-pared positions and inflict maximum casualties. The borrowedengineers had created a masterpiece of defensive works, particu-larly in the main belt that crossed the island just north of thesecond airfield. In the 145th Infantry Regiment, the 26th Tank

Regiment, and some of the artillery units Kuribayashi had first-rate troops, a credit to any armed force. In Col. Chosaku Kaido,commanding the composite artillery brigade, Kuribayashi had oneof the finest gunners in the empire.

On the negative side, the 109th Division was hardly one of theempire’s best—certainly not one of the vaunted Manchukuoanoutfits from the Kwantung Army. Moreover, Kuribayashi didnot even have his entire division at hand. His second independentmixed brigade was scattered to the north, defending places like

Chichi Jima and Marcus Island. Nor couldthe 109th Division ever expect to match inopen combat the task organization, fire-power, and unit integrity of any one of thethree U.S. Marine Corps divisions steamingtoward Iwo. Further, while Kuribayashihad been able to stockpile plenty of foodand weapons in advance, he did not havethat luxury in terms of artillery, mortar, androcket ammunition. Only on D-Day wouldhis gunners enjoy unrestricted firing. Thevery proliferation of types and calibers ofmajor weapons would further complicateammunition supply and distribution. Someweapons were simply inappropriate. Theenormous Japanese 320-mm spigot mor-tars would scare the hell out of the Ma-rines, but their 675-pound shells would of-ten prove more hazardous to the handlingcrews; the launchers had an operating lifeof only five to six rounds.

Kuribayashi seemed to accept all this. WhenJapanese scout planes reported the depar-

ture of hundreds of American ships from Ulithi and Saipan on13 February, the general ordered his men into their final bunkersand moved into his command post in the Motoyama highlands.“I pray for a heroic fight, ” he said.

Kelly Turner’s joint expeditionary force approached Iwo Jimawith 495 ships—including 125 amphibious and 75 seagoing landingcraft—a force ten times the size he had led against Guadalcanalthirty months earlier. Only one useful piece of intelligence hadfiltered to the landing force from the unsavory Peleliu experience.A captured Japanese message from Peleliu recommended thatdrums of fuel be placed along the obvious landing beaches forremote ignition during the height of the American’s ship-to-shoreassault. The latest aerial photos of Iwo showed a suspicious lineof fifty-five-gallon drums positioned at close intervals along thebeaches. Schmidt’s Marines in their first waves would thereforeland wearing fire-retardant grease on their exposed skin.

Holland Smith and Harry Schmidt were more concerned withacrimonious dispute with the Navy over the extent of prelimi-

Maj. Gen. Harry Schmidt, USMC, commanderof the tough and experienced V Amphibious

Corps and charged with taking Iwo Jima


nary bombardment allotted to Iwo. The Marines, sensing thedifficulty of seizing this godforsaken rock, asked for ten days—but got three. The Navy saw a greater need to orchestrate tacticalsurprise, coordinate the bombardment with strikes against Honshuby Mitscher’s fast carriers, and guard against an incursion by theremnants of the Combined Fleet. Logistic restraints also servedto limit bombardment. The PacificFleet had not yet mastered the art ofunderway replenishment of major-caliber ammunition (8-inch andlarger); those ships would have to re-tire to a distant anchorage to rearmfor any prolonged bombardment.There was also concern for conserv-ing ammunition for the pending,larger invasion of Okinawa. The ar-guments became rancorous. Blandy’sgunships would deliver four times theshelling Tarawa received and one anda half times the prep fires at Saipan.Yet the Marines argued that pro-longed, deliberate fire—repeated hitson hard targets—was more critical than gross tonnage delivered.

There is little doubt that a greater preliminary bombardment wouldhave saved Marine lives. The heartof Kuribayashi’s defenses in theMotoyama plateau remained essen-tially unscathed during the three daysbefore D-Day. On the other hand,most of Kuribayashi’s emplace-ments in the north were so skillfullycamouflaged, his men so deeply en-trenched, that they probably wouldhave remained impervious to anyextended shelling. They had alreadywithstood ten weeks of dailypounding by Seventh Air Forcebombers without substantial dam-age. Suspending the naval shellingeach night provided further respiteto the subterranean garrison. As 1st

Lt. Kinryu Sugihara, a member ofthe 11th Antitank Battalion on IwoJima, recorded in his diary for thenight of 17 February: “Our units are taking advantage of theslackening of the bombardment during the night and are strength-ening their positions, repairing fortifications, and hauling foodand ammunition to the different positions. They worked all nightin preparation for tomorrow.”

Landing force planners knew in advance that Iwo’s steep beachand loose volcanic sand would complicate the movement ofvehicles from landing craft to the high-water mark. Admiral Hill

and his chief beachmaster, Capt. Carl E. “Squeaky” Anderson,had worked furiously to devise means of improving beachtrafficability. Bulldozers would be in high demand along the beachon D-Day; Hill and Anderson fabricated armored shields to pro-tect the operators from sniper fire. The two officers also devel-oped sand sleds and “Marston matting, ” folded, hinged metal

mats intended to surface an expedi-tionary airfield, modified so they couldbe payed out from a tracked vehicleto lay an improvised “road” over thesoft sand as a beach exit. Hill said thetask force brought eight miles ofhinged matting to Iwo.

Marine planners looked beyond thebeach, noting the heights on eitherflank, sensing how Mount Suribachiand the Rock Quarry would affordthe enemy deadly fields of fire. SaidMaj. Gen. Clifton B. Cates, com-manding the 4th Marine Division anda veteran of Belleau Wood,

Guadalcanal, and Tinian: “I didn’t like the idea of landing in abight, where you were flanked on both sides.”

Iwo Jima would be the fourth as-sault landing in thirteen months forthe 4th Marine Division. The 3rd

Division, scheduled initially in a re-serve role, had defeated the Japa-nese at Bougainville and Guam. The5th Division was brand new, butformer Raiders and paratrooperswith combat experience in theSolomons led most of its rifle com-panies. Moreover, the training fo-cus for each division was right ontarget for Iwo: small-unit tactics, as-saults on fortified positions, coor-dinated use of combined arms.Collectively, this was a tough, com-bat-savvy landing force, as lethal anamphibious spearhead as the Ma-rine Corps ever fielded.

Embarking the huge landing force uncovered frustrating prob-lems. The newly modified M4A3 Sherman tanks were now tooheavy to be safely transported in standard LCM-3 tank lightersand had to be loaded, five at a time, on medium landing ships(LSMs), which in turn skewed landing plans at the last minute.Commanders and cannoneers worried about their 105-mm how-itzers preloaded in DUKWs. Iwo was known to have roughseas. The weight of the field piece equaled the DUKW’s maxi-mum payload; there would be precious little freeboard. Am-

Marines of the 4th Division aboard LVTs speed towardthe ashen shores of Iwo Jima

Marines peer out over the sides of their landing craft to gettheir first view of the island. Soon, nearly 100,000 menwould be crowded on an island not eight miles square


phibious rehearsals reflected the recurring problem of geographicseparation of key task groups. Most amphibian tractor (LVT)units did not get the chance to rehearse with the LSTs, many ofthem new to the ship-to-shore business.

Although the Japanese knew of their approach, the Fifth Fleetquickly established near-total dominance over the air, sea, andunderwater approaches to the island. The most spectacular ex-change of heavy gunfire at Iwo Jima occurred on the morningof 17 February, D-minus-2, during the conduct of the beachreconnaissance by Navy and Marine swimmers. These were menof the Navy Combat Demolitions Unit, augmented by recon-naissance Marines, collectively called “frogmen” (also, “half fish,half crazy”). Many were veterans of stealthy reconnaissance mis-sions in the Marshalls, Marianas, and Palau, but there would benothing covert about this operation: a direct approach into “thebight” in broad daylight. Thiswas a mission of tremendousrisk, reflecting the criticalshortage of information onthe landing beaches.

A dozen LCI-G gunboatscomprised the first line of firesupport for the frogmen,closely followed by severaldestroyers. The sight of thismini-armada approaching themost obvious beach madeGeneral Kuribayashi believethe main landing was at hand,and he authorized his localcommanders to open fire from their concealed coast-defensebatteries along the eastern slopes of Suribachi and the RockQuarry. The tiny LCI-Gs were shot to pieces: one sank, all othersbadly damaged, two hundred casualties.

To the rescue came a dozen destroyers and cruisers, moving closeashore to engage the enemy batteries one-on-one, both sides catch-ing hell and delivering same. Incredibly, the swimmers accom-plished their mission despite the cannonade, even braving Japa-nese rifle fire to gather samples of beach sand. They found onlyone mine, no obstacles, no natural barriers to the approach—then retracted, bearing their precious vials of sand, with the lossof a single man.

The swimmer mission, accomplished at great risk and acceptablecost, thus serving the more valuable function as an inadvertentamphibious feint, causing the enemy to play his hand prematurely.Kuribayashi, facing his first amphibious landing, had even radi-oed Tokyo that his forces had repulsed a major landing. ButBlandy’s gun crews had a field day the next thirty-six hours, sys-tematically taking out the big guns overlooking the beaches thatthe Japanese had unwisely revealed. This factor, a tactical disaster

for the Japanese—and Kuribayashi’s only major mistake of thebattle—surely saved a thousand American lives on D-Day morn-ing.

Kelly Turner hoped for three days of good weather in which toconduct the landing. He got less than one. D-Day morning wasnigh perfect. At 0645 Turner signaled “land the landing force.”The now-familiar choreography began, the process that provedso difficult at Tulagi or Tarawa now ticking like a Swiss clock. Tosome observers the ship-to-shore assault against Iwo Jima’s south-east coast resembled the third day at Gettysburg: hundreds ofthousands of men of both sides watching the panorama of tenthousand shock troops in disciplined alignment charging the cen-ter. “The landing was a magnificent sight to see, ” said Marinelieutenant colonel Robert H. Williams. “So the real landing hascome at last!” recorded Lieutenant Sugihara, as he cleansed him-

self for death in combat.

Mitscher’s Task Force 58 re-turned from raiding Honshuin time to add to the fire-works. Among other assets,this provided the landing forcewith the temporary support ofeight carrier-based Marinefighter squadrons, each welltrained in close air support.The troops cheered as theCorsairs with USMC markingroared down the beachesahead of the landing.

The ship-to-shore movement at Tarawa fifteen months earlierhad featured a convoluted ten-mile trek that took hours and leftthe LVTs dangerously low on fuel. Worse, the only senior con-trol officer in the lagoon was the skipper of the minesweepermarking the line of departure, a brave man but inexperienced inamphibious execution and unassisted by any Marines. At IwoJima, the LVTs had an easy thirty-minute run to the beach, andthe assistant commanders of the assault divisions, both brigadiergenerals, took station on the control vessels marking each end ofthe line of departure.

Nor were there any deadly lapses in naval gunfire support as theassault waves of LVTs approached the beach. Navy and Marinefighters made one final screeching sweep along the coastline, thenthe ships commenced a carefully regulated “rolling barrage” toprovide a moving curtain of heavy explosives just ahead of thedisembarking troops. This complex procedure worked to per-fection, reflecting the cumulative experience and painstaking plan-ning of the amphibious task force. The torrent of explosivesvaporized the worrisome line of fuel drums and demolished manyof the Imperial Navy’s vaunted gun positions. A Japanese navalofficer observing all this from a cave on Mount Suribachi could

The American forces swarm the shores of Iwo Jima: H-Hour, February 19,1945


hardly believe his eyes: “At nine o’clock in the morning severalhundred landing craft with amphibious tanks in the lead rushedashore like an enormous tidal wave.”

This was the ultimate storm landing of the Pacific War. Okinawawould be bigger but unopposed. At Iwo Jima eight thousandMarines raced ashore in the first few min-utes. Within ninety minutes some of thesemen cut the lower part of the island intwo. By dusk, when Lieutenant Sugiharaguessed that “enemy strength [ashore] isapproximately two thousand men andeighty tanks, ” General Schmidt had ac-tually landed thirty thousand men, the bet-ter part of two divisions, each with theirown tank battalions and most of theirorganic field artillery. There would still behell to pay, but the V Amphibious Corps had stormed ashore ingreat strength and good order. Kuribayashi was already in gravedanger—abruptly he was outnumbered.

The first enemy encountered by the landing force on Iwo Jimawas the island’s damnable hydrography. Even in mild weatherthe steep beach featured a constantly plunging surf and a viciousundertow. Time and against the surfwould first broach then shatter theHiggins boats, reducing them to shardsand splinters, further fouling a beach thatsoon resembled a demolition yard. Forthose vehicles that made it ashore,trafficability proved worse than ex-pected. “Squeaky” Anderson’s experi-mental Marston matting worked wellat first but soon became chewed topieces by hundreds of tracked vehiclesdesperately trying to negotiate the steepterraces under fire. And while the Japa-nese had not mined the precipitous off-shore approaches, they had spared noeffort in mining beach exits. ManySherman tanks and LVTs came to griefin a deadly field of horned antitank mines, inverted depth charges,and naval torpedoes buried vertically beneath pressure detona-tors.

Like Colonel Nakagawa at Peleliu, Kuribayashi decided to ex-pend one infantry battalion in the vicinity of the beaches to dis-rupt the landings. The Americans’ “rolling barrage” made mince-meat out of most of these men, but those who survived main-tained a hot fire. “Crossing that second terrace the fire fromautomatic weapons was coming from all over, ” said one Marinebattalion commander. “You could’ve held up a cigarette and lit iton the stuff going by.” This was simply the beginning.

While the assault forces maneuvered in the soft sand to over-come the local defenders they failed to notice an almost imper-ceptible stirring among the rocks and crevices of the interior high-lands. With grim anticipation, Kuribayashi’s gunners began un-masking their big weapons—the heavy artillery, giant mortars,and naval rockets held under tight discipline for this precise mo-

ment. Kuribayashi has patiently waiteduntil the beaches and terraces wereclogged with troops and material. Hisgun crews knew the range and deflectionto each preregistered target. AtKuribayashi’s signal, these hundreds ofweapons opened fire. It was shortly af-ter 1015.

The ensuing bombardment was as deadlyand terrifying as any of the Marines had

ever experienced. There seemed to be no cover at all. Explo-sions blanketed every corner of the three-thousand-yardbeachfront. Large-caliber coast-defense guns and antiaircraft gunsfiring horizontally added their deadly scissors of direct fire fromhigh ground on both flanks. Landing force casualties mountedappallingly. As the Japanese fire reached a crescendo, the fourassault regiments radioed dire reports to the flagship:

1036: (From 25th Marines): “Catch-ing all hell from the quarry. Heavymortar fire.”1039: (From 23rd Marines): “Tak-ing heavy casualties and can’t move.Mortars killing us.”1042: (From 27th Marines): “All unitspinned down by artillery and mor-tars. Casualties heavy.”1046: (From 28th Marines): “Takingheavy fire, forward movementstopped. Machine gun and artilleryfire heaviest ever seen.”

Veteran combat correspondent RobertSherrod spent D-Day morning with

General Cates on the troop transport Bayfield, flagship for the 4th

Marine Division. Cates watched the fighting ashore through bin-oculars and agonized over the pounding of his troops. “Look atthat goddamned murderous fire on our Yellow beaches,” he ex-claimed to Sherrod, adding, “There goes another hit square on atank—burned him up!”

The landing force suffered and bled but did not panic. The pro-fusion of combat veterans in the ranks helped steady the rookies.Communications remained effective. Keen-eyed aerial observ-ers spotted some of the now-exposed Japanese gun positionsand directed naval gunfire effectively. Carrier planes swooped inlow to drop napalm canisters. The heavy Japanese fire would

Marines of the 5th Division take refuge on Red Beach#1, inching toward their target: Mt. Suribachi


continue to take an awful toll throughout the first day and night,but it would never again be so murderous as that first unholyhour.

Robert Sherrod went ashore in the late afternoon, but even hisprevious experiences during D-Day landings with the Marines atTarawa and Saipan had not prepared himfor the carnage he encountered. “Whetherthe dead were Japs or Americans, they hadone thing in common, ” he reported, “theyhad died with the greatest possible violence.Nowhere in the Pacific War had I seen suchbadly mangled bodies. Many were cutsquarely in half. Legs and arms lay fifty feetfrom the nearest cluster of dead.”

By day’s end General Schmidt countedtwenty-four hundred casualties among thelanding force, a stiff price for the beach-head—comparable to losses of the U.S. VCorps at Normandy’s Omaha Beach on D-Day—but still proportionally better than thefirst night at either Tarawa or Saipan. Schmidt began to sense hewas facing a formidable opponent, although it would be daysbefore his staff could confirm that Kuribayashi had in fact beenpresent on Iwo Jima from the start.

Bad weather the next day severely hampered unloading opera-tions. Even the larger landing ships, LSTs and LSMs, had diffi-culty maintaining position when beached. Stern anchors rarelyheld. Forward cables to “deadmen” (usuallywrecked tanks or LVTs on the beach) snappedunder the strain. Smaller craft played hell gettingashore. One artillery battalion commander, Lt.Col. Carl A. Youngdale, watched in helpless hor-ror as twelve of his fourteen 105-mm guns wentdown in deep water, one by one, when theirDUKWs swamped in the choppy seas.

Schmidt’s desire to land a regimental combat teamfrom the 3rd Marine Division, the corps reserve,on D+1 could not be met. The troops de-barked in a series of hair-raising net-to-boatepisodes, then circled for hours, desperatelyseasick, waiting for the pounding surf to abateon the beach. It never did. The troops had tostruggle back on board their transports andwait another day. Hill’s efforts to land heavy equipment by pon-toon causeway sections also proved disastrous.

At this point, the inexperience of some of the LST crews and theabsence of any opportunity to rehearse with LVT and DUKWunits proved costly. Because of high surf, wounded Marinescould only be evacuated from the island during the first several

days by these amphibian vehicles, often just at dusk to avoid en-emy fire. All too frequently, however, the green LSTs refused toaccommodate any unfamiliar craft appearing close aboard outof the darkness. When please and curses failed to work, the smallvehicles could only move further out to sea in hopes of finding amore receptive ship. Too often this resulted in LVTs and DUKWs

foundering in high seas at night, usually witha dozen wounded men on board. Thelanding force lost eighty-eight LVTs to non-combat sinking during the campaign, mostof them under such circumstances duringthe confusion of the first several nights.

Kelly Turner’s naval officers at Iwo Jimaincluded an unusually high percentage ofnewcomers to combat. While in due timethey would become seasoned, valuable vet-erans, their first days were filled with a mix-ture of awe and distress. Future Hollywoodproducer David H. Susskind recorded hisemotions on D-Day at Iwo Jima as fresh-caught lieutenant on board the troop trans-

port Mellette: “Iwo Jima was not all flaming spectacle and har-rowing death. For this ship and this crew—for me—it was theend of one world and the beginning of the other…We were‘young-in-war’ and everything ahead would be the first for mostof us.”

Fully effective naval support for the Marines ashore remainedhostage to the treacherous surf and the looming presence of

Japanese-held Mount Suribachi. The 556-foot vol-canic cone—honeycombed with its Fukkaku cavesand firing ports—became the objective of the 28th

Marines. Kuribayashi knew his southern sectorcould not hold Suribachi-yama indefinitely, but heexpected them to resist for two weeks. He wasstunned when the Marine regiment took the pin-nacle in four days. “Hot damn!” exclaimed Navypilot David Conroy over the air control net as heflew past the summit and saw the first flag go up.“All hands look at Suribachi!” bellowed “Squeaky”

Anderson over his beachmaster’s bullhorn.“There goes our flag!”

The Suribachi flag-raisings have taken on a lifeof their own in the ensuing half century—tothe point that many modern readers expresssurprise that the events occurred on the battle’s

fourth day, not the thirty-sixth. Seizing Suribachi was essential toprosecuting the rest of the battle and enabling the logisticians toget on with the mammoth buildup ashore, but the spectacularflag-raisings signaled “the end of the beginning”—hardly the endof the battle. Ahead lay a full month of combat as savage andrelentless as the Marines would ever face.

Landing vehicles lay smashed and useless onthe beaches of Iwo Jima in a wasteland of

black sand and twisted metal

The first flag is raised upon Mt.Suribachi. A second flag would soon

be raised in an immortal momentcaptured on film by Joe Rosenthal

Kuribayashi rued the precipitate loss of the highest peak on theisland, but he knew the Americans had yet to encounter his realdefensive masterpiece in the central highlands. That battle com-menced directly with three Marine divisions attacking abreast. Eachwould pay dearly for every yard, every redoubt. Throughout thisperiod the Marines rarely saw a live Japanese soldier in the day-time. Nights were marked by desperate struggles between smallgroups of shadowy men slashing and stabbing with knives andbayonets. The VAC would average a thousand casualties a dayduring the first three weeks of the assault.

Nowhere was the Navy’s role in the IwoJima battle more crucial than in sustainedmedical support. Surgical teams oper-ated around the clock in field hospitalsbarely two miles behind the lines. Adozen women, Navy flight nurses,served aboard DC-3s making daily runsfrom Guam to Iwo and back during thefighting to help evacuate nearly twenty-five hundred critically wounded men.Former flight nurse Norma Crotty re-calls holding many a desperate hand onthe return flights to Guam, murmuring,“Hold on, son, just hold on.” The DC-3s inbound to Iwo alsodelivered priceless cases of whole blood to battlefield surgeons.And every boat or LVT or DUKW that delivered supplies ashorereturned to hospital ships at sea with another load of woundedMarines.

This was an extremely costly battle for the surgeons and corps-men who accompanied Marine units. Exactly 850 of these menwere killed or wounded at Iwo Jima, twice the rate for bloodySaipan. The bond between Marines and their corpsmen wasnever more profound than during the protracted, point-blankcombat on Iwo. The pressures on these young medical techni-cians were enormous. Corpsman Stanley Dabrowski recalls “beingup to my elbows in grime, dirt, and blood, and you’re constantlyasking yourself, ‘Am I doing the right thing? Am I doing enough?’”Four of the seven Congressional Medals of Honor awarded toNavy corpsmen during World War II originated at Iwo Jima.

Kuribayashi’s field medical service suffered by comparison. Of-ten the only “cure” for a wounded Japanese was for his compan-ions to leave him a hand grenade with which to end it all. Thesubterranean caverns soon filled with dead and dying men. Anddespite their “Courageous Battle Vows, ” the Imperial troopsfailed to exact the ten-to-one ratio sought by their commander.They died by the thousands, many sealed up in caves and tunnelsby armored bulldozers, or burned alive by flame-throwing tanks.They did not anticipate the Americans’ proficiency in combinedarms, small-unit leadership, field experience—nor their undeni-able individual courage. And nothing in the combat experienceof Kuribayashi or his other veterans had prepared them for the

intensity of American firepower, delivered day after day fromships, planes, artillery pieces, and rocket trucks. “We need to re-consider the power of bombardment from ships, ” he telegraphedthe chief of the general staff. “The violence of the enemy’s bom-bardments are far beyond description….The power of the Ameri-can warships and aircraft makes every landing operation possibleto whatever beachhead they like.”

With Suribachi in American hands, Admiral Hill opened up beacheson both sides of the southern coast. The 3rd Marine Division

(less the 3rd Marines, withheld as Expedi-tionary Troops reserve in a controversialdecision by Holland Smith) streamedashore and shouldered into line betweenthe 4th and 5th Divisions in the attack north.Navy Seabees landed in force, an entirebrigade of them, and began rebuildingIwo’s vital airfields under scattered fire.Army antiaircraft units moved their bigguns ashore to provide a high-velocityland-based punch to counter the expectedair raids from the Japanese home islands.An Army Air Forces P-51 Mustang fightergroup flew ashore, providing superb

close-air support and a lethal interception force.

At Iwo Jima, however, the Fifth Fleet’s picket screens and com-bat air patrols experienced few difficulties in intercepting aerialcounterattackers. There were two exceptions. The night beforeD-Day a pair of Japanese bombers penetrated the task forceand struck the transport Blessman. Ironically, this was the mothership for the Navy combat demolition teams, the men who hadjust executed their bold mission so successfully along Iwo’s beaches.The ship survived the attack—the bomb just missed the afterhold where the frogmen stored their TNT—but the unit lostmore of its members in this one fiery instant than the total of alltheir combat operations in the Pacific.

At twilight on D+2, a flight of fifty kamikaze planes penetratedthe fleet screen. In desperate action that foreshadowed theOkinawan campaign the ships managed to down all fifty planes,but not before some crashed aboard the escort carrier BismarckSea, sinking her, and the old warhorse Saratoga, damaging herenough to send her back to Hawaii. There were no other break-downs in air defense.

Japanese attempts at aerial resupply proved ludicrous. Accord-ing to Imperial Navy chief officer Kei Kanai, one of the fewIwo survivors, a plane flew over Japanese positions in the northone night and dropped packages for the garrison—filled solelywith bamboo spears.

Nor did the once-mighty Combined Fleet make any serious movetoward disrupting the Iwo landing. In operational terms, the



Japanese Navy’s only contribution was the dispatch of severalkaitan “human torpedoes” embarked on fleet submarines. Threeof these subs left Kure for Iwo during 22-23 February, followedby two more on 2 March. None got through.

By 4 March, the end of the second week of fighting ashore, theMarines had suffered thirteen thousand casualties, and the endseemed nowhere in sight. Yet at that point the first crippled B-29landed on Iwo’s main runway, a great boost to American morale.Thirty-five more of the silver war birds, damaged in Tokyo raids,would land successfully on Iwo during the battle. The troopscheered each one. “We knew where they’d been!” said one rifle-man.

This was the beginning of the endfor the Japanese garrison. Unknownto the Marines, they had now piercedthe main defensive belt, killed as manyJapanese as their casualty total, andforced Kuribayashi that very day toabandon his forward command postand seek shelter in a cave near KitanoPoint, prepared to make his last stand.“Send me air and naval support andI will hold the island, ” he radioedTokyo; “without these things I can-not hold.” On the following day aheavy American bombardment killedColonel Kaido in his artillery com-mand post at Turkey Knob.

In Kuribayashi’s absence from thecentral highlands, the infantry brigadecommander in the eastern sector dis-obeyed his standing orders andlaunched an all-out, traditional banzai charge against the 4th Ma-rine Division. Many of these Marines were veterans of largercounterattacks at Saipan and Tinian; once again they stayed low,aimed carefully, and scored devastating hits against the chargingJapanese, backlit by a thousand flares. Morning revealed rows ofdead Imperial troops, fully eight hundred of them. The 4th Ma-rine Division, their back-breaking burden suddenly lightened bythis turn of events, then made such rapid progress they securedthe entire coast in their sector in five days. The 3rd Marine Divi-sion, fighting ferociously, sent Schmidt a canteen of seawater fromthe northeast coast.

The next day, 17 March, the 5th Marine Division swept over Hill165, trapping the remnants of Kuribayashi’s forces in what wouldbe called “the Bloody Gorge.” Colonel Ikeda burned his regi-mental colors. Fleet Admiral Nimitz declared victory. Kuribayashibade an emotional farewell to the people of Japan. That eveningPrime Minister Kuniaki Koisi made an unprecedented announce-ment over Radio Tokyo to a shocked nation: Iwo had fallen.

General Kuribayashi and several hundred survivors actually heldout another nine days, making the 5th Marine Division bleed forevery bitter yard in the Gorge. His body was never identified.Some survivors claimed he led the final, savage, “all-out-attack”against the American bivouac at airfield number 2 during the pre-dawn of 26 March, the last day of the battle. Whatever his finalend, Kuribayashi fought a good fight and died. So did 22,000other Japanese. Yet Kuribayashi’s imaginative and radical defen-sive plans achieved little more than inflicting 24,053 casualties uponthe attacking Marines and prolonged the campaign for five weeks.

In context of the great sweep of forces converging on Japan bythe spring of 1945, such heroic sacrifices stood for little. TheAmericans had gained operational use of airfields on Japanese

territory within the first two weeksof battle. Already Curtis LeMay’s B-29s were enjoying an eleven-fold in-crease in bombing effectiveness; atotal of 24,761 crewmen fromcrippled bombers would owe theirlives to the Marine seizure of Iwo inthe months ahead. And the JointChiefs’ master plan remained fullyintact. Iwo Jima officially ended on26 March. On that same date—righton schedule—Raymond Spruanceand Kelly Turner kicked off Opera-tion Iceberg in the waters offOkinawa.

Kuribayashi’s principle contribution tothe Pacific War was the portent heprovided the world of what to ex-pect should the Japanese home islandsbe invaded: savage, no-quarter fight-

ing on a massive, protracted scale. On the other hand, Iwo Jima’sinexorable loss sobered the Japanese high command. The Ameri-cans had seized one of the most heavily defended islands in theworld, conquered it in spite of the bravery and ingenuity ofKuribayashi and his men, and achieved this in the face of daunt-ing losses. The Americans, it was quite clear, had the ways andmeans—and will—to inflict their storm landings against any de-fended shore.

Colonel Alexander served 29 years on active duty in the Marine Corps as an assaultamphibian officer, including two tours in Vietnam. He is a life member of theMarine Corps Historical Foundation and the Naval Institute.

“Iwo Jima: Storming Sulfur Island” is an excerpt from Joseph H. Alexander’sbook, Storm Landings: Epic Amphibious Battles in the Central Pacific,available from the Naval Institute Press. The piece can also be found in the“Iwo Jima Teacher’s Training Guide” available from the World War IIVeterans Committee.

WWII

Marines mourn the loss of one of their own. Though theAmericans eventually took Iwo Jima, it came at a tremen-dous cost: over 25,000 total casualties, with almost 7,000

killed


Raising the Flag on Mt.Suribachi

by G. Greeley Wells

Editor’s Note: G. Greeley Wells was assigned to the 2nd Battalion, 28thMarines, 5th Marine Division as an adjutant during World War II andwas honored with the privilege of carrying the first flag raised on Mt.Suribachi.

On the third day after the Fifth Division wentashore on February 19, we came to the baseof Mt. Suribachi. F Company sent two menscaling up the mountain…just straight up theside. One of these Marines carried two ma-chine guns and climbed up the mountain fir-ing with a gun on each arm to protect his men.

These men made it to the top and scouted thearea, before reporting back that there wasnothing up there. “There’s a bunch of caves inthe back and a bunch of pipes hanging aroundbut there’s nobody there,” one of them said.So they came down and reported this to thecolonel. The next day a patrol of about 42 menwas brought in with the orders to take control of Suribachi’speak and raise the U.S. flag. Lt. HaroldSchreir, the leader of the platoon, saidto me, “Wells, where’s the flag?” Andthen I gave him the flag, which hadbeen in my possession.

Well, this is the only “official” thingabout raising that flag. There was areporter with us that day, and afterthat little scene he came over to meand asked my name and what I wasdoing. And so the story was releasedin the newspaper with my name in theheadline: “Wells carried the first flagthat was raised on Mt. Suribachi.”

Now this is just about the only part inthis whole story that is not argued even60 years later. Many people (I believethere are at least a dozen people) have claimed that they got theflag, or that they put the flag up.

We watched the patrol go up the mountain from our basebelow. It took about 45 minutes in all. They slowly workedtheir way up, the whole way expecting there to be somebody

to shoot at them and there would be afirefight. But there was not a sound.

Nobody could believe it, but we watched thiswhole scene and there was not a shot fired.They found dead Japs all along the way, butnone of them had to fire their weapons.

Then they came up and looked over the top.Everything seemed clear. Yes, there was a caveover a ways off, but they didn’t see anythingin it. It was quite a distance.

The men went about the business of finding apipe, which they did, and used it to put up theflag. As they lifted this makeshift flagpole a Japa-nese soldier hiding in a nearby tunnel charged

out with—believe it or not—a broken samurai sword. Well, hewas immediately taken care of, and afew hand grenades were tossed intothe cave in which he had been hiding.When a few more Japanese ran out,they were shot...nobody on our sidewas hurt. This seemed to solve theproblem.

Around this time, the word had be-gun to spread among the Americanforces that this patrol had gone up tothe top of the mountain in order tosecure it. So people in the ships aroundus (and there were over 300 ships)were watching with binoculars, wait-

ing to see what happened. The minutethe flag went up it was like New Year’sEve: there was machine gun fire,artillery…then the boats blew their

horns. It was really quite a spectacle.

This was a special moment and it gave everybody a good feel-ing. We had conquered the control point of the island, so we

LT. G. Greeley Wells

The first flag is carried up the steep slopes of Mt.Suribachi


thought this battle was about to be overand we were just about home free. Littledid we know.

During this period, James Forrestal, Sec-retary of the Navy, landed and saw theflag flying atop the mountain. Lookingat it, he is said to have exclaimed, “Theraising of that flag on Suribachi means aMarine Corps for the next 500 years!”He then turned to an aide and said, “I’dlike to get that flag. Have that flag sentto me.”

So, we were going along our way andsuddenly the colonel received this mes-sage: “Congratulations, but Forrestalwants the flag.” Now, my colonel wasa feisty fellow, short and tough as canbe. And he replied, “He’s not going tohave this flag, this flag belongs to thisbattalion! Get another flag!”

We had just found an officer to godown to the beach and retrieve a flagwhen the colonel yelled, “Get a biggerone and we’ll put that one up!”

So we found this second flag andbrought it up to the mountain. Duringthis episode, Joe Rosenthal, the AP pho-tographer, came along and said, “I wantto go up to the mountain and take apicture of the flag.” He was given per-mission to do so.

The second flag arrived at the top ofSuribachi and Lt. Schreir (in chargein this case), wanted to take one flagdown and put the other one up atthe same time. They were preparingto do just that when Rosenthal madeit to the top. The Marine Corps pho-tographer who had gone up with thepatrol had taken a picture of the firstflag raising, and he said to Rosenthal,“You know, we put the flag up andI’ve got the picture already.”

The Marine photographer had linedthe flag up and put all the troops infront yelling and celebrating and took the picture, which be-came known as the “gung-ho” picture of the flag raising. So itappeared to be all settled and done. Rosenthal noted that they

were going to be putting up a secondflag. All of a sudden, the flag started togo up. Rosenthal turned and took a pic-ture of this flag raising, which later be-came the most reproduced picture ofthe war, and one of the most famouspictures of all-time. He didn’t even sethis timing or do any of the things thatphotographers normally do. And thenwhen the flag was up he went and got a“gung-ho” picture of his own. Soon af-ter, when everything was completed, ev-erybody slowly came down. The origi-nal flag came down with them.

In the midst of this confusion and battle,nobody noticed the significance of what

was taking place. And unfortunately, thepictures had to be sent to Guam to bedeveloped, so it would be some timebefore it was known whether they wereany good.

As it turned out, somebody saw thisflag raising picture and immediately re-alized what a terrific picture it was, sothey sent it back to Washington. It wassoon decided to make this image thesymbol of the bond drive. From there,the rest is history.

Lending to the later confusion overwhether this famous moment was

staged was an incident that took placesoon after Rosenthal took his picture.Shortly afterward, Rosenthal wasasked if he had staged the picture.Believing that the picture in questionwas the second “gung-ho” picture,he replied that “of course” it wasstaged. He had no idea that his quickshot was this famous picture.

So this is how it all happened. Bookshave been written - and I have writ-ten to refute it - that this was a staged“Hollywood-style” moment orderedby high command. If ever you hearthat, you should know it is baloney. Itwas not staged. It was a set of pecu-liar little circumstances that built into

this whole event where nobody knew what they were gettinginto.

WWII

The first flag comes down as the secondtakes its place

A moment that would endure forever

Rosenthal was under the impression that this was thephoto Washington wanted to use


Our Brother...The Story of A Young Man’s Sacrifice

By Jean Miller, Josephine Ross, Meri Cox, and Susan Haney

Charles Francis Burton was born May 31, 1926 in Washington,D.C. Although his father and mother divorced in his first year,Charles was brought up in a warm, loving fam-ily atmosphere and was showered with affectionfrom his mother, Elizabeth, and grandparents,aunts, uncles, cousins and his two older adoringsisters, Jean and Dorothy. Charles led a charmedlife as he was not only physically attractive withfair hair, light complexion and brilliant blue eyes,but was a bright student and had an engagingpersonality. He was a popular kid and was ex-tremely well liked by adults as well as his friendsat school and in his neighborhood.

The family moved from Washington D.C. toCheverly, Maryland in March, 1927. There wereonly twenty homes in Cheverly at that time butthere were many children in the small commu-nity and a number of boys in the neighborhoodbecame Charles’ lifelong companions. The boys were inseparableand biked for hours, played ball and also loved to compete athorseshoes.

In the summer of 1934, Charles’mother married Joseph E. Singer. In1935, Josephine Singer was born, fol-lowed by Mary in 1938. It was a full,bustling household.

Charles started school in 1932 at the ageof six, when he enrolled at Cheverly-Tuxedo Elementary, which only had twoclassrooms for seven grades. He walkeda mile to school each day with his twoolder sisters and never missed a day ofschool. He progressed well in schoolboth academically and physically. In1936 at age 10, Charles was accepted at St. Albans School forBoys, which is affiliated with the National Cathedral in Washing-ton D.C. Charles received a partial scholarship because he was amember of the Cathedral Boys Choir. Charles thrived in this ex-ceptional environment and even though he had to travel a longdistance from Cheverly, Maryland, via public transportation, Charlesagain never missed a day of school.

While attending St. Albans, Charles participated in many sportsprograms, most notably wrestling and boxing. Although Charles

was slight of build and height, he earned the nick-name of “Toughy” because of his prowess inthe wresting and boxing rings. We believe he wasmost proud of his accomplishments in theGolden Gloves boxing competition.

Always the one for excitement and adventure,Charles traveled with his Boy Scout troop toMexico for the entire month of July 1941. This,of course, was a marvelous experience for himand brought back many treasures from his trav-els – a multi-colored hand-made Indian blanket,a serape and sombrero, a hand-carved life-sizewooden facemask and a leather chair. He enter-tained our family for hours with tales of his ad-ventures.

At the age of 14, Charles was chosen by the renowned artist,Count de Rosen, to be a model for St. John the Apostle in thelarge mural that dominates the Chapel of St. Joseph of Arimatheain the Washington National Cathedral. Our brother as St. John is

easily recognized as he is depicted com-forting the Virgin Mary. All of the mod-els selected by Count de Rosen werestudents, instructors, and artisans con-nected with the Cathedral. BecauseCharles wanted to surprise his family,he never told any of them about his se-lection as a model. This created quite aproblem because he allowed his hair togrow to shoulder length – quite an un-acceptable hairstyle for grown boys andmen in the early 1940s. His two oldersisters, Jean and Dorothy, teased himcontinually about his long tresses, until

they finally decided to take matters into their own hands. Dot saton Charles while Jean attempted to cut his hair to a respectablelength. Despairing, Charles was forced to reveal his secret andbegged them not to tell his mother. They pledged to keep hissecret intact, and shared his joy when the fresco was finally un-veiled to the public.

Sadly, Charles’ education at St. Albans came to an end just six

PFC Charles F. Burton, USMC

A young Charles Burton, second from the front,with the Cathedral Boys Choir


months before his anticipated graduation. Because his voice hadchanged, he was no longer eligible for the boys choir. Financialdifficulties at home made it impossible for the family to pay theadditional tuition that was required and Charles was forced towithdraw. He was enrolled at Eastern High School but found itso lacking in comparison to his experience at St. Albans that hesoon dropped out. We understand that he received his high schooldiploma despite the fact that he withdrew from school severalmonths shy of graduation.

Charles immediately soughtemployment and was hired bythe Division of Cartography,Soil Conservation Service, U.S.Department of Agriculture, asa rodman on a plane table party.However, World War II wasraging at the time and Charles,like so many other young men,was anxious to enlist to defendhis country. Unfortunately,Charles was rejected by theUnited States Marine Corpsbecause at 16, he was under-age and not eligible. Disap-pointed, but undeterred,Charles managed to find hisway to the U.S Marine head-quarters in Quantico, Virginia inan attempt to enlist again. Thistime the rejection was more de-moralizing because the Marines called our mother and said that“her little boy was there to enlist in the war and, although they didhave an extra diaper and could keep him there for a day or so,she would have to make arrangements to pick him up.”

Still absolutely determined to sign up with the Marines, Charleswrote a letter to President Franklin Roosevelt pleading for hishelp. He explained that our family descended from the earliestsettlers of Maryland, and had fought in every war in the historyof the United States in pursuit of freedom and liberty. He re-ceived a response from the War Department that he would beallowed to enlist at age 17 with the signed permission of one ormore parents. Our mother finally acquiesced and reluctantly signedher permission for Charles to enlist in October 1943.

Charles enlisted on October 27th, 1943 and reported for activeduty on November 9, 1943. He was sent to Parris Island, SouthCarolina for basic training from November 10th through Januaryof 1944. He earned the rank of PFC and was then transferred toCamp Lejune where he was trained as a rifleman in the 26th Ma-rines, 5th Division. He was shipped overseas on the SS Drake inJanuary 1945. Charles landed on Iwo Jima, Volcano Islands onFebruary 19, 1945 and, tragically, was killed in action only 5 days

later on February 24, 1945. Charles was awarded the Bronze Starand the Purple Heart for:

“heroic achievement as Rifleman in a Marine Rifle Com-pany, Third Battalion, Twenty-Sixth Marines, Fifth Divi-sion, during action against enemy Japanese forces on IwoJima on February 24 1945. Alert and ready to render ser-vice when his platoon’s advance was halted by furious ma-chine-gun and sniper fire, Private First Class Burton

unhesitatingly volunteeredto go forward of the linesand spot the menacing po-sition. Disregarding the ex-treme peril, he confidentlyproceeded to a point aboutfifty yards in front of theline of battle and then,creeping and crawling un-der savage fire, finally lo-cated the hostile bunker. Re-turning with his valuableinformation, he enabled aforward artillery observerto direct heavy fire againstthe hostile position and de-stroy it, thereby makingpossible the continued ad-vance of his platoon. Whilemoving forward with hiscompany later in the day,PFC Burton was instantly

killed by a direct hit from a Japanese mortar shell. Hisexceptional courage, aggressive fighting spirit and loyal de-votion to duty throughout this hazardous action were inkeeping with the highest traditions of the United StatesNaval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”

Charles was originally interred on Iwo Jima, but was later trans-ferred to the National Cathedral, Chapel of St. Joseph ofArimathea, where he is buried in the crypt alongside Helen Kellerand Annie Sullivan and less than 100 feet from the mural in whichhe is depicted.

Now, nearly 60 years later, we, his four remaining sisters, remem-ber our wonderful fair-haired brother and think of what mighthave been had his life not been extinguished so swiftly on thathostile island in the far off Pacific. However, we are extremelyproud of his gallant bravery in an effort to save our country andthe world from the cruel tyranny of the Imperial Japanese forcesduring World War II. He made the supreme sacrifice so that wecan live in peace and prosperity. He did not die in vain.

Jean Miller, Josephine Ross, Meri Cox and Susan Haney are the remainingsisters of Charles Francis Burton. WWII

Jan Henrik de Rosen’s depiction of The Procession to the Tomb in theWashington National Cathedral. St. John, for whom Charles Burtonserved as a model, is pictured with the Virgin Mary in the upper-left


This is the story of an American and a Japanesepilot who met in aerial combat. Their deadly aerialengagement began with a moment of humanity –the sight of a young man’s face – during the battleover the tiny island of Iwo Jima. More than half-century later, this encounter resulted in a meetingbetween former enemies.

By the summer of 1944, Iwo Jima was poised tobecome the Pacific war’s front line. GeneralMacArthur was ready to fulfill his promise, “I ShallReturn” to the Philippines. The invasion of Saipanwas underway, and Iwo Jima was under attack. TheJapanese Navy was in the process of moving the301st Kokutai (Air Group) to Iwo Jima. However,American carrier planes allowed them no time toestablish.

The first flight of nine Mitsubishi A6M5 Zerofighters, led by Lt. Katsumi Koda,was intercepted as they approachedthe island. Three Zeros, includingLt. Koda’s, were shot down. Thefollowing day his classmate fromEta Jima (the Japanese naval acad-emy), Lt. Kunio Iwashita flew thesame route. Much had changedsince they graduated from the acad-emy in March 1941, three years ear-lier.

Zero Pilot Kunio Iwashita

Kunio Iwashita served aboard twocruisers before transferring to flightschool in November 1941. By co-incidence his older brother, Kutaka,was an instructor at the sameschool. Kunio remembered beingsummoned by him at midnight on December 7, 1941: “He toldme in a rigid tone. ‘At last our country will wage war againstAmerica with an air raid on Hawaii.’ I was overwhelmed by ten-sion and almost stopped breathing.”

In May 1942, his brother was appointed Buntaicho(vice squadron leader) of a dive-bomber squadronaboard the Japanese Carrier Zuikaku. He left ahandful of his hair with Kunio, in the Japanese tra-dition. This would be the last time they were to seeeach other.

His brother was killed during the Battle of SantaCruz, after bombing the USS Hornet. Hit by anti-aircraft fire, his bomber was severely damaged andhis rear gunner killed. Limping back to the fleet, heditched and was picked up by a Japanese destroyer.Before expiring, he uttered the name of his carrier‘Zuikaku.’ Even in death, his brother was a rolemodel, especially after his heroics were dramatized

in two Japanese wartime movies. Upon learningof his brother’s death, Kunio Iwashita reflected:“Rather than being proud of my brother as myown flesh and blood, I came to respect him deeply

as such an excellent Navy officerthat I was simply no match for him.He always dealt with matters withall his might and burned up hispower of life twice as fast as ordi-nary men, ending his life at age 25.”

By the end of February 1943,Iwashita completed his pilot train-ing first in his class, just as his olderbrother had earlier. Instead of be-ing sent to the front with his class-mates, Iwashita was ordered to re-main in Japan as an instructor. Re-port after report brought disheart-ening news of their deaths. Beforelong, Iwashita was assigned to the301st Kokutai, and on June 25, 1944he was flying to the front lines.

Air Combat Over Iwo Jima

Kunio Iwashita’s flight arrived safely, but a week later on July 3,he suffered from an intense stomach ache, later diagnosed as a

The Face of a Young PilotAn Unforgettable Encounter at Iwo Jima

By Justin R. Taylan

Kunio Iwashita in 1944

Smoke rises from the volcanic island of Iwo Jima. This time,however, its source is the relentless American bombing that

took place in the months leading up to the invasion


symptom of appendicitis, and was grounded. He watched fromthe ground as 31 Zeros took off to intercept incoming Americanplanes. At the conclusion of the dogfight, only seventeen Zerosreturned. Iwashita recalls: “I was on pins and needles to seefriendly planes being shot downone after another. I told Com-mander Katsutoshi Yagi, thegroup commander, I wanted takepart in the sortie tomorrow by allmeans.”

Before dawn on July 4, 1944,while still suffering from stomachpains, Iwashita reported for duty.His squadron leader, Lt. Fujita,took him aside to offer someadvice on flying into combat forthe first time: “One’s first fight ismost risky. Buntaicho, I will teachyou how to fight. Don’t go apartfrom me. Follow me tight.” Iwashita recalled. His leader was aclassmate of Iwashita’s deceased brother, and a veteran of thePearl Harbor attack and Battle of Midway.

Suddenly, a report sounded about enemy planes. The assembledpilots, including Iwashita, raced into the air. Before they got offthe ground, they were under attack: “The enemy planes had comenear, firing at us before we reached an altitude of 100 meters.Trajectories of their blue and red trac-ers looked as if a bundle of ice candiesflew to us. In a hurry, I retracted thelanding gear, prepared for firing andfollowed my leader. Looking down atthe ground, I saw a terrible scene ofaircraft and fuel tanks in flames.”

The Face Of A Young Pilot

Lt. Iwashita saw four planes that he ini-tially assumed were Japanese. Increas-ing his speed, he approached them at adistance of 100 meters. Closer, theirstar markings came into sight: they wereAmerican Grumman F6F Hellcats. Theyhad failed to notice his approach, allowing Iwashita to close in onthe last fighter in the formation. From less than 30 feet, he openedfire.

The Zero’s 20mm cannon shells tore into the Hellcat. “The wingof the F6F broke up. I saw the goggles and white muffler of theyoung pilot and his face as he looked back in surprise. The F6Fwas instantly engulfed in flames and crashed into the sea. MountSuribachi was close to us.” Iwashita observed.

The remaining F6Fs circled to avenge the attack. One of theirbullets hit the windshield of Iwashita’s Zero, making a snappingsound and shattering his canopy, causing him to duck reflexively.More holes appeared in the left wing. At the same instant, his

squadron leader and morning ad-visor, Lt. Fujita arrived and droveoff the remaining Americanplanes.

Iwashita made an emergency land-ing and ground crews ran to him,saying, “Buntaicho, you’ve donewell. Those four planes had beenstrafing the airfield. We weregrinding our teeth. Then, you shotdown one of them before oureyes. We gave cheers!” Iwashita re-called. There was no time for re-flection. Following the air attack,Iwo Jima was bombarded by the

American fleet. Iwashita and the other aviators resigned them-selves that the American landing would occur the next morning,and they would be defending the island with the infantry.

Kunio Iwashita couldn’t sleep. He recalled all too vividly the faceof the young pilot he shot down. While his comrades slept,Iwashita walked to the black sand beach near Mount Suribachiand stood alone. Looking towards the sea, where the American

had crashed, he pressed his hands to-gether in prayer.

The American fleet withdrew the nextmorning. A few days later all survivingpilots were ordered back to Japan on atransport plane. During their defense ofIwo Jima, Iwashita’s squadron lost 31pilots and claimed 20 enemy planes de-stroyed.

The War’s End

After Iwo Jima, Iwashita flew missionsover the Philippines, Okinawa and Ja-pan. He shot down other aircraft, butnever witnessed another American pi-

lot up close again. Iwashita was 24 years old when the war ended,and recalled the news: “I had experienced hard battles on IwoJima and in the Philippines, I expected that we could not win.Even though I understood that we would not be able to win, Idid not think that Japan would be defeated. The idea of defeatwould not come out of our minds because we had not receivededucation to be defeated. However, I had a feeling that the endhad come at last. I think that most members of the YokosukaKokuai (Iwashita’s unit) accepted the end of the war rather calmly.”

Iwashita with the author, Justin Taylan, in 2004

Iwo Jima today. Though many of its battle-scars have healed, itremains a hallowed resting place for thousands who died in the

struggle to control it


By the end of the war, 31 of the 35 of his fighter schoolclassmates were dead.

A Wish Becomes Reality

Many years later, married and himself a fa-ther, Iwashita retired as an executive in thetextile industry. He remained active with war-time comrades as President of the ZeroFighter Pilots Association and member ofthe Unabarakai, the Japanese Naval Appre-ciation Society . But Kunio could never for-get that face over Iwo Jima.

During the 50th Anniversary remembrancesof World War II, Iwashita delivered a speechabout his experiences. He revealed that it washis deepest hope to discover the identity ofhis first kill and pay his respects to the family.The request was passed to the US Navy His-torical Society, and Kunio got his answer. FiveAmerican planes were shot down over IwoJima on July 4, 1944. Onepilot was rescued, the otherfour went ‘Missing In Action.’Although impossible to iden-tify precisely which planeIwashita shot down, one pos-sibility stood out: his namewas Alberto C. Nisi.

Ensign Alberto Nisi

On July 4, 1944 Nisi was 26years old serving aboard theUSS Wasp with VF-14, the‘Iron Angels.’ Nisi was ofItalian decent, and his familylived in Worcester, Massachu-setts. Before the war, he at-tended a two-year collegeand earned his degree in ac-counting, worked for the Electric Boat Company in Connecti-cut, and joined the United States Navy Reserves. Prior to hisJuly 4th mission, he was constantly writing his sister, who waspregnant and expecting in early July. Instead of a celebrationwhen the baby arrived, there was a telegraph. Ensign AlbertoNisi was ‘missing in action.’ Born two days after his uncle’sdeath, Terence Nisi’s life paralleled his uncle’s: he studied ac-counting, shared a love for golf and served in Vietnam.

The Nisi Family Today

Albert Nisi’s siblings, Victor and Mary, live in Massachusetts. By

strange coincidence, Iwashita’s daughter and her husband alsolive in Massachusetts. After Iwashita made contact with the fam-ily, he informed his daughter about the planned meeting. She

worried about the implications of her fathermeeting a former enemy. Iwashita held firm.

Terence Nisi recalled the moment his familyreceived Iwashita’s letter: “Since Alberto diedalmost 60 years ago, I feared this might openup old wounds for his brother and sister, Italked to them first. Alberto was someone Ididn’t know, but was always compared with.If Mr. Iwashita was possibly an eyewitnessto the final moments of his life, I wanted tomeet him. My uncle has no grave, he wasmissing in action.”

The Meeting

Trepidation rankled both sides prior to theJune 20, 2003 meeting. The entire Nisi familywould be there, only Victor was unable to

attend due to health reasons.Iwashita declined any mediacoverage of the meeting. Itwas to be a private affair.

After introductions, Iwashitaexplained his recollections ofthe combat and answered thefamily’s queries. The formerZero pilot even entertainednumerous questions fromAlbert Nisi’s curious 11-year-old great-nephew. The atmo-sphere of the two-hourmeeting was gentle. Then theNisi family showed Kunio awartime photograph ofAlberto in the cockpit of hisF6F Hellcat.

Terrance Nisi reflected on the meeting: “Mr. Iwashita’s visitmoved us very deeply. It took a lot of courage for him tomeet us. He was a proud fighter pilot, still that doesn’t mitigatethe feeling when you take someone’s life.” As we pause toreflect on the legacy of World War II, perhaps we should alsoreflect on these two courageous families and their special meet-ing.

Justin Taylan, a Pacific war researcher, is the creator of PacificGhosts.com andPacificWrecks.com. He is the recipient of the World War II Veterans Committee’s2004 Hunter Scott Youth Award.

WWII

A young American pilot, EnsignAlberto Nisi

Iwashita’s long-awaited meeting with the family of Alberto Nisi, nearly60 years after his death


The sacrifices, accomplishments and adversities faced by youngblack men in World War II are often overlooked in Americanhistory books. Besides the contribution of the Tuskegee Airmen,few realize the importance of black troops in winning the war.Blacks fought valiantly beside white soldiers to serve a countrythat often treated them with disdain. This is the story of oneblack man who boldly fought for his country in the horrific battlefor Iwo Jima. Iwo Jima is remembered as one of the bloodiestbattles of World War II. During the thirty-six days of intensefighting one in three men were either killed orwounded. Sergeant Frederick Douglass Gray wasamong the “colored” soldiers who fought againstthe Japanese on Iwo Jima.

Fred Gray was born and raised in rural St. Leonard,Calvert County, Maryland. The land was green withtobacco crops and the landscape was pastoral. Hewas born in 1925 and grew up in a segregated com-munity, attending school in a one-room schoolhouseup until the eighth grade. There was no high schoolfor black children in Calvert County at that time.Upon completion of the eighth grade, Fred beganto work for his father, a contractor who built barns,houses, churches and black schools.

When Fred was sixteen, his older brother, Norman A. Gray, wasdrafted into the all black 92nd Army Infantry Division, at the ageof 21. Originally the age range of the draft was 21 to 35. In1942, President Roosevelt extended the draft to include men withinthe ages of 18 to 38. The military needed more men to ad-equately fight both the Nazis and the Japanese. In 1943, at theage of eighteen Fred Gray was drafted in to the United Statesmilitary at a time when his country needed him the most. He lefthis home in Calvert County, seated on the back of a segregatedbus, destined for Fort Meade, Maryland.

From Ft. Meade, Gray traveled to Tallahassee, Florida for basictraining. After basic training, most blacks were assigned to ser-vice and supply details. Gray was assigned to the 476th Amphibi-ous Truck Company, an Army Support Unit, which would laterbecome attached to the 4th Marine Division. Mr. Gray recalled,“We had 177 enlisted men and 6 officers, all of them white.”

Gray was trained to operate a new type of transport ship madeby General Motors called DUKWs. This was an acronym for D-production code for 1942, U-amphibious utility truck, K-frontwheel drive, W-two rear wheel-driving axles. The purpose ofthe DUKWs was to transport 2 ½ tons of troops and suppliesfrom the larger carrier ships (LSV2s) to the shore. DUKWs

rode on tires that could be inflated and deflated at will. In addi-tion the DUKWs were built to float on water, thus giving thesevehicles the ability to travel on both land and sea. On land thesevehicles could travel at speeds of 50 miles per hour, while reach-ing speeds of only 6 miles per hour on sea.

During basic training, eighteen-year-old Gray and the other youngrecruits frequently bragged about their eagerness to fight in thewar. “We didn’t know what fear was,” Gray remembered. Gray

and the other young men in his company often pro-claimed, “I want to see some battles! I want to seea war!” Mr. Gray recalled that the older, moremature men in his Company quickly admonishedhim, “‘You damned fool, you better stop sayingthat!’ It wasn’t too long before we saw war.”

Although he was a member of the United Statesmilitary, segregation and Jim Crow laws preventedFred Gray and the rest of his Company from en-tering the USO and many other facilities on base,as well as several commercial establishments in thearea. Commanding officers attempted to keep in-teraction between the races to a minimum. Mr. Grayremembered, “We blacks went through hell in themilitary those days. We were made to go through

the back door. It was hard for us too. And it was demoralizing,very demoralizing.” Mr. Gray recalled an incident in which heand fellow members of his Company went to a store to getsome beers. They paid for and received the beers without diffi-culty, but when they asked the white store owner for a bottleopener he replied, “Why don’t y’all jus’ open it wit’ your teeth,that’s what the last nigger did.” Mr. Gray and his friends just left.There wasn’t much they could do in an area of the country wherestate laws enforced racism. Black soldiers were fighting twodistinct wars- a war on foreign soil to protect the United Statesagainst German and Japanese forces, and a war here on theirown soil against racism and discrimination.

There was conflict among the troops in Florida as well. Fightsbroke out between the black and white soldiers. The tensiongrew to the point that a race riot was threatening to break out onthe base. Blacks did not like the way that the white soldiers weretreating them. The commanding officers did not tolerate thisturmoil for long and they promptly relocated Gray’s unit to Spo-kane, Washington. Soon after they arrived in Washington, the476th shipped out to Hawaii.

In Hawaii, Fred Gray and his company resumed their trainingwith the 4th Marine Division, not knowing where their journey

by Steven Mosley

Uncommon ValorAn African American’s Service on Iwo Jima

A young Frederick Gray inservice to his country


would take them next. While Mr. Gray was in Hawaii he receivedthe devastating news that his brother, Norman, was missing inaction in northern Italy. While they were training in Hawaii, Graylearned that B-24 bombers were conducting heavy air raids onthe small 2x7-mile island of Iwo Jima. From this informationFred Gray surmised that Iwo Jima would be the next destinationfor his division. His prediction was correct; the 476th battalion,along with the 3rd, 4th and 5th Marine Divisions, was destined forIwo Jima.

Fred Gray recounted, “While on the high seas going to Iwo Jima,I got word that he (Norman Gray) was killed in action, Septem-ber 15th, in Northern Italy…I was sure I would be next.” Dur-ing the voyage to Iwo Jima, Gray and the other soldiers receivedlittle information about the mission. What he did know was thatit would be his job to drive the DUKWs from ship to shore.

On February 19, 1945 the assault force be-gan forming offshore at 6:30 A.M. The seawas filled with vessels that stretched ten milesfrom shore. At 6:40 A.M., every battleshipin the ocean began to blast the island onelast time before the ships landed. Five hun-dred various amphibious vehicles, includingLSTs, DUKWs and other transports, movedslowly into their assigned areas. At 8:30 A.M.the myriad of ships began to make their wayto shore. The assault was underway.

Loaded with two and a half tons of sol-diers and supplies the amphibious trucks made it to shore withonly minor difficulties. Gray recounted, “When we first landed,it was a picnic. We didn’t see any Japs, and we said this is goingto be easy. What we did know was that (Iwo Jima) was bom-barded for 47 or 48 consecutive days by B-29’s, long range bomb-ers. And three or four days before we landed, the battleships, ohGod, they put something on that island. They bombarded thatisland around the clock.” What they did not know was “that theJapanese were buried in so deep,” in the caves beneath the island’ssurface.

The Japanese allowed the first wave of Marines to land withoutretaliation; this made the DUKWs’ inefficiencies the 476th’s big-gest problem of the day. The combination of choppy watersand excessively heavy loads caused water to mix into the gasolinetank, resulting in the sinking of several of the DUKWs. Accord-ing to Mr. Gray, on sea the DUKWs were “sitting ducks,” sincethey traveled at very low speeds and were highly vulnerable toenemy attack. In addition, the DUKWs proved to be practicallyimmobile on Iwo Jima’s soft and steep volcanic ash dunes. Sol-diers had to push and pull these trucks across the ash to get thesupplies to their destination. Although these vehicles were veryreliable during training, they were no match for Iwo Jima’s ardu-ous terrain.

Fred Gray witnessed absolute carnage on Iwo Jima. All of the

training that he received could not have prepared him for thehorrors of war. Streams of blood flowed down the beaches.Pools of red blood mixed with the black volcanic ash. The deadwere mangled and mutilated. Often, there was no way to iden-tify the bodies. Pieces of soldiers were strewn across the beach,rarely whole bodies were found. Black clouds of smoke cov-ered the island as bombs exploded. The sound of gunshots,explosions, and screams rang through the air.

“We were attached to the 4th Marine Division. The 4th and 5th

Divisions had the responsibility of taking Iwo Jima. But it got sorough over there, Gen. Holland M. Smith, the Commanding Gen-eral, called for another division (the 3rd) to come in to assist us.”The battle progressed, the casualties increased. It soon becamenecessary for the men in Gray’s unit to carry wounded Marinesfrom the battlefields to the DUKWs. The DUKWs were then

used to transport the wounded to the hos-pital ship offshore. Gray recalled, “Wewould put them (the wounded) on stretch-ers and take them to the hospital ship. Theywere… calling for their mothers, wrestlingin pain, blood all over them, blood every-where.”

Gray had many friends that didn’t make itback. He remembers a man in his com-pany, Anthony Thornton from Baltimore.Thornton was a short light skinned blackman. The other soldiers in Gray’s unit wouldoften warn Thornton to be careful because

he might be mistaken for a Japanese soldier. One day, Thorntonwent to relieve himself in a makeshift latrine, but never made itback. He was confused for a Japanese solider and was shot by aMarine. While on Iwo Jima, Gray befriended a young whiteMarine. They talked about their trades and considered goinginto business together after the war. But in an instant, the youngMarine was shot dead before Gray’s eyes in the middle of theirconversation. Mr. Gray commented, “When you see people getkilled right in front of you that you had a beer with the nightbefore, that you played cards with, that you laughed and talkedwith and you see them get cut in half...” Mr. Gray paused andcovered his eyes for a few seconds, then he continued, “But that’swar…that’s war. A saying goes that any man that goes to warand says that he is not afraid of battle is either a liar or a foolbecause war is Hell.” Lives were lost in an instant. Soldiers thatyou conversed with just a minute ago could be but just a memoryin a moment’s time.

The most frightening tactics used by the Japanese were the Banzaiattacks. These were suicide attacks perpetrated by Japanese sol-diers to try to kill as many Americans as possible before beingkilled themselves. According to Mr. Gray, the Japanese “wentout and didn’t care whether they were going to get killed or not.They would go out with their rifle and kill the first thing they saw.They killed a lot of Marines that way…a lot of them.” Inaddition, the DUWKs were regularly targeted for attack by the

A “sitting” DUKW


Japanese. The Japanese knew that the DUWKs carried muchneeded supplies and weapons for use by the Marines on shore.Gray recounts, “The Japanese were smart enough to know thatif you cut off a unit’s supplies then they wouldn’t have any sup-plies to fight with. So they went after our DUWKs that wereloaded with equipment and supplies,” therefore the DUWKs werein constant danger.

Black troops performed countless acts of heroism during theirservice on Iwo Jima. For example, Gray recounted that a fellowDUWK driver by the name of Horace Taylor was transportingseveral troops from ship to shore. His co-driver, Lewis Ander-son, realized that a rope was caught in the truck’s propeller. Withouthesitating, he jumped out of the truck and cut the rope, prevent-ing it from sinking the DUWK. He saved the ship, its cargo, andpossibly the lives of many white Marines; bothTaylor and Anderson received the Silver Starfor their valor. “Horace Taylor (and LewisAnderson) would have got the Medal ofHonor, but he was this color,” Gray remarkedwhile pointing to his bronze colored hand.

By and large the race relations on Iwo Jimawere without incident. American soldiers ofall creeds were busy trying to defeat a com-mon enemy. Soldiers became color blind andworked together for the same cause. Still,isolated instances of prejudice occurred. Grayrecalled that after one particular attack, a gravely injured whitesoldier laid on a stretcher, waiting to die. He requested a ciga-rette. Horace Taylor quickly reached in his pocket for a cigarette,but was gruffly rebuffed by the soldier. In the midst of death thewhite soldier snarled, “I don’t want no cigarette from no nigger.”According to Mr. Gray there were “two wars to fight; a war ofracism and a war in battle.”

The February 23rd flag-raising on Mt. Suribachi was a sign ofrelief and triumph for the American troops, but it did not marka “Star-Spangled Banner” finish. Fighting on Iwo Jima raged onfor another month, through March 26th. On August 6, 1945, Sgt.Gray, still stationed on Iwo Jima, felt the shock from the atomicbomb that was dropped hundreds of miles away on Hiroshima,Japan. Three days later he witnessed the turbulent waves causedby the atomic bomb that hit Nagasaki. Although American troopshad conquered Iwo Jima, they did not realize that hundreds ofJapanese soldiers remained hidden in deep underground caveswhile they were still on the island. The soldiers gradually wenthome based on a point system. Because he was young and un-married, Sgt. Gray remained on that miserable island until Marchof 1946.

Even though the battle was marked as a victory for the UnitedStates, the devastation of war took its toll. During the thirty-sixdays of intense fighting, one in three men were either killed orwounded. At the end of the battle, there were 6,821 dead and19,217 wounded American servicemen. The Japanese lost an

estimated 20,000 soldiers. Mr. Gray believes that only about halfof the men in his Company made it back to the States. This wasundoubtedly one of the bloodiest battles fought in Americanhistory.

Sgt. Gray’s service was so exceptional that the military offeredhim the opportunity to attend officer candidate school. But afterexperiencing the loss of many friends on Iwo Jima and receivingword that his older brother was killed in battle at Salerno, Italy, hedecided not to pursue a military career. Fred Gray made his wayhome, on a seat in the back of a bus. Sgt. Gray had fought sohard to uphold freedom; however he was not entirely free in hisown country.

Every white man that fought on Iwo Jima was granted the Presi-dential Unit Citation for his valor in the year1945. Because of the mere color of their skin,the black soldiers who fought valiantly for theircountry were denied this honor. As presidentof the Iwo Jima Black Veterans Association,Mr. Gray requested that the overlooked blackveterans be honored and given their due re-spect. It wasn’t until 1979, thirty-four years af-ter the battle, that President Jimmy Carterawarded the surviving black Iwo Jima veterans

the Presidential Citation.

After the war, Mr. Gray came back home toSt. Leonard. He resumed working for his

father. In addition he finished his high school education andreceived his diploma. Mr. Gray applied and was accepted intothe Washington DC Police Academy. He worked as a policemanfor six years. He then accepted a position with the National ParkService. He retired after 34 years. Mr. Gray’s position as Con-struction Representative for the Park Service afforded him theopportunity to meet several U.S. presidents, including PresidentsJohnson, Nixon, Carter, and George H.W. Bush. Mr. Gray hasbeen married for 52 years to Helen Eloise Gray; they have twodaughters and three grandchildren.

Mr. Gray has had a very busy life since retiring from public ser-vice. He is president of the Iwo Jima Black Veterans Associa-tion. He is also very active politically, having campaigned forPresident George W. Bush and for Maryland’s Governor RobertL. Ehrlich. Because of his service at Iwo Jima and later politicalactivism, Frederick Gray has made substantial contributions toour society. Mr. Gray continues to keep the story of the blackveterans that fought on Iwo Jima alive, by passing it on to youngergenerations and to those that want to know more about America’shistory. The legacy of all veterans, including the brave black sol-diers that fought on Iwo Jima, must never be forgotten.

Steven Mosley is a freshman honor student enrolled as a Banneker Key Scholar atthe University of Maryland. He is majoring in journalism and plans to pursue acareer in broadcast journalism. Steven is an Eagle Scout and remains active in hiscommunity. He resides in Charles County, Maryland. WWII

Frederick Gray and Steven Mosley in 2005


In Their Own WordsBooks Authored by World War II Veterans

Books written about World War II are becoming more and more popular, as the public seeks to learn more of theheroics displayed by our men and women who served. While the works of authors and historians are valuable andentertaining, a great untapped source of history resides in the stories of the veterans themselves. A large number ofveterans have written books on their own stories, with many being published. World War II Chronicles is proud to

showcase excerpts of books written by veterans of World War II. To submit a book to be highlighted in In Their OwnWords, please mail to:

World War II ChroniclesAttn: Editor

1030 15th St., NW Suite 856Washington, DC 20005

Donald O. Dencker, historian for the 96th Infantry DivisionAssociation, was a gunner in the Mortar Section of CompanyL—Love Company, 382nd Infantry Regiment, 96th InfantryDivision, during World War II. He received the Bronze Starfor “meritorious achievement in connection withmilitary operations against the enemy inOkinawa.”

After becoming a part of the Army SpecializedTraining Program (ASTP), assigned to the Illi-nois Institute of Technology in Chicago, Denckerwas assigned to the 96th Infantry Division inMarch 1944, which had been reactivated in 1942and by 1944 was composed largely of draft-ees—the so-called “citizen soldiers.” Denckerchose to serve in a mortar section—a place wherehe assumed to be “somewhat safer” than a rifleplatoon. Little did he know that there were nosafe places on Leyte and Okinawa, where he would soon besent.

Love CompanyInfantry Combat Against the Japanese,

World War II

Leyte and Okinawa

By Donald O. DenckerFrom Chapter 16: The Big Push

During the day of April 20th, Company I and Company L,aided by Company K in the afternoon, drove to the south endof Tombstone Ridge, with our 3rd Platoon attempting to takea small tree-covered knoll just east of the south tip of Tomb-stone. This little knoll, called Hill 7, became the focus of a furi-ous battle during which the Platoon Leader, 2nd Lieutenant LyleShreffler, was killed. The 1st Platoon Leader, 2nd LieutenantEmil Roemer, was also was also wounded and evacuated.

The Japanese counterattack put the 1st and 3rd platoons in aprecarious position. Bill House, our communications Sergeant,went to those embattled platoons and used his SCR536 radioto maintain contact with our Company Commander, Lieuten-

ant Young, as well as the 2nd Platoon. With thePlatoon Leaders gone and most of the noncom-missioned officers killed or wounded, SergeantHouse took command of the platoons and suc-ceeded in repulsing the fanatic Japanese attacks.For this gallantry in action, Sergeant House wasawarded the Silver Star. After the Japs were re-pulsed, the balance of the company moved in toreinforce our hold on the knoll.

During this action, the 60mm Mortar Section pro-vided fire from Tombstone Ridge. We thenmoved up to the north side of the knoll, set upour mortars, and started to dig individual fox-

holes. Ernie and I set up our mortar between our foxholes.

As soon as I had finished mine, I volunteered for a call to goback and bring up rations, water and additional ammunition. Iwent with a group to the center of Tombstone Ridge wherethe supplies were being dropped off by the battalion carryingparty. There I ended up taking and lugging back to our com-pany a five-gallon can of water.

When I returned to my foxhole, I set the water can down nearmy hole, but up on a slight slope. As I was waiting for instruc-tions regarding the water, a Japanese Nambu light machine gunstarted to fire at Mortar Section men. The bullets missed me asI dived into the safety of my foxhole, but one of them wentthrough the precious can of water I had brought up. As I layprone in my foxhole wondering what to do next, water fromthe punctured can started to run into my hole. Damn ironic, Ithought, but better than my blood! For some reason, perhapsdue to the tension, I started to laugh at the sight of my hard-

The author, Donald Dencker, at CampSan Luis Obispo, California in 1944


obtained water trickling over me. The Jap machine gun waslocated on the east face of Tombstone Ridge just below theupper part of the ridge occupied by menof companies I and K. Apparently thesemen heard the Nambu firing and were ableto silence it or force the Japanese crew toretreat into a cave.

The position of Company L was precari-ous as the Japs could fire at us on the ex-posed knoll from three directions; front andboth west and east sides. Lieutenant Youngwas given permission to withdraw the com-pany to the main body of our battalion,which had completed the occupation ofTombstone Ridge. Our withdrawal was sup-ported by a barrage of smoke shells laiddown by the 81mm mortars of CompanyM. The screening was effective, and the onlyharassment experienced during withdrawalwas Japanese knee-mortar fire.

We moved to our assigned location onTombstone Ridge and dug in just as it wasgetting dark. We had lost our rations andwater, but had withdrawn without further casualties.

April 20th had been a bad dayfor Company L. We suffered 35battle casualties, including 10 menkilled in action or dead ofwounds. Our strength had beenreduced to 101 men from the168 who had landed on April 1st.

Gone from Love Companywere a number of my friends;Staff Sergeant Alvin Engan,killed, the fine man from Iowawith whom I had shared a coachseat on the train back to Califor-nia from our pre-overseas fur-lough; Sergeant Bob Heuer,killed, an ASTP friend; JackKramer, seriously wounded asecond time, a Minnesotan whohad entered the Army with meand had shared my Basic Train-ing and ASTP experiences; and finally 1st Lieutenant BobGlassman, seriously wounded, my excellent Weapons PlatoonLeader during most of my time in Company L.

Ernie and I shared a two-man foxhole again, taking alternativewatches. As usual, artillery fire continued in the darkness. The

Japs also fired some 81mm or 90mm mortar shells into ourarea. Fortunately, we were well dug in and no one was wounded.

Word was passed that we were to attackagain in the morning. This time, due to ourdepleted strength, all three rifle companieswould be involved, with no reserve com-pany. I had a rather restless night and an-swered several calls to fire illuminating shells,or flares as they were called.

Dawn came and shortly thereafter we re-ceived K-rations and ammunition. Even theK-rations tasted good, as there had beenno meal the evening before. Our mortarammunition was replenished, so that for ourthree mortars we would have a full comple-ment of 90 high-explosive shells.

Our plan of attack for April 21st was inno-vative in that we would move southwestinto 381st Infantry Regiment territory andthen turn left about 120 degrees to attackNishibaru Ridge from west to east. This waywe would straddle the ridge and be able tobring direct fire against both the forward

and reverse slopes. Nishibaru Ridge was about 500 yards to thesouthwest of Tombstone Ridge. If our approach route

worked, we would be avoidinga direct frontal attack on our ob-jective and would not be sub-jected to flanking fire from theJapanese still holding out on Hill7.

After our K-ration breakfast, Ihad another cigarette, whichseemed to calm my nerves. Wepicked up our mortars and am-munition and prepared to moveout behind the Rifle Platoons. Myright knee was still sore, but Icould walk without difficulty.

We moved out into the 381st

zone behind its front lines at 8:45A.M. At this time the Japanesefired their first 320mm mortarshell of the day in our direction.

The large, slow-moving shell seemed to float in the air, makinga ringing sound as it passed. This first shell harmlessly hit theground, and its massive explosion blew a hole ten feet deep.Miraculously, no one was injured.

We continued our stealth approach. Surely we were being ob-

American forces met fierce resistance from an oftentimes hiddenenemy on Okinawa. Here a Marine takes aim at a Japanese

sniper concealed near Wana Ridge


served by the Japs, but there was no reaction. By 11:00 A.M.we were astride Nishibaru Ridge and moving along it towardthe east end. Apparently we had caught the enemy by surprise,as we consolidated our hold on most of the east half of theridge. Rifle Platoon men were trying to dig into the rocky soil ascant 20 yards ahead of us. We stopped and set up our mor-tars, and then the first Japanese counterattack came. We imme-diately began to fire our mortars at the enemy troops as theyclosed to within 150 yards of us. All told, Ernie and I firedabout 20 rounds of high-explosive shells by the time this mod-erate counterattack faded at 12:30 P.M.

As quiet returned to our area, I told Ernie thatI would go to get replacement shells. He con-curred, and off I went back along the routewe had taken to our present position. After Ihad gone only 200 yards, I realized that I wascompletely alone, but I continued along ourpath with my .45-caliber pistol in my hand.When I had gone about 500 yards, there in ashell-cratered area on the side of a hill lay two60mm mortar-ammunition bearers. They didnot move when I tried to rouse them, and Irealized that they were both dead. I did notsee a single wound on either body. I couldonly conclude they had died from the concus-sion of a nearby exploding large shell.

Each dead ammunition bearer had a double-compartment ammunition bag full of high-explosive shells. With some effort I pulled theammo bag off over the head of each dead man. I had 24badly needed shells in the two bags, weighing some 90 pounds,which I started to drag back to my mortar. It was strenuouswork, but I made it in about 20 minutes. Ernie was glad to seeme, and the ammunition.

A short time later, the Japs launched a major counterattackusing about 250 troops. We were desperately trying to keepfrom being overrun. Every rifleman and BAR man fought tostop them on a battlefield strewn with large boulders, behindwhich the enemy took cover. BARs and light machine gunswere fired from the hip, with some men burning their handson the hot gun barrels.

Ernie cranked our mortar up to 84 degrees tube elevation, andI stripped off all charge increments on the first shell. Flickingoff the safety ring, I dropped the shell down the tube. “BAM!”The cartridge propellant detonated, but at “charge zero” andthis steep angle, the shell came wobbling out of the tube. Ifollowed the path of the shell as it moved slowly through theair until it hit the ground and exploded a little less than 100yards away. We fired a few more shells at the 84-degree eleva-tion.

The Japs managed to get even closer, and the sheer number ofthem threatened to reach up. I saw a couple running about 75yards away and fired all seven rounds from the magazine in mypistol. I don’t think I hit them at that range.

Ernie increased the angle of the mortar tube to 85 degrees,and we fired about 10 rounds to a distance of 70 yards. Thenup the tube went to 86 degrees, the maximum elevation. Downthe tube went a charge-zero shell. It came out really wobblingand looking like it was going almost straight up. It crashed tothe ground and exploded about 50 yards away, about the dis-tance to our attackers.

While preparing and dropping shells down thetube at 30-second intervals, I noticed nearbya man in a clean uniform, urging our men onand intermittingly firing a M1 rifle. He wasour interim Battalion Commander, Lieuten-ant Colonel Franklin Hartline. Hartline wasdoing everything possible to help us hold firmand rout the Japanese, and at great danger tohimself. He then led a few men to a flankingposition where they could have an unob-structed field of fire.

Gradually the counterattack spent itself dueto casualties, and the few surviving Japs fled.Left behind were 175 “good” – dead – Japs.Lt. Colonel Hartline, the former West Pointfootball star, was awarded the Silver Star forhis actions on April 21st. He deserved it.

All during the counterattack, Japanese knee-mortar shells fell inthe area. Though they caused a few casualties, they were hardlynoticed due to the intensity of the action. When the situationcalmed down, I realized we had only three mortar shells left.

I have always wondered who the two dead mortar-ammuni-tion bearers were on the other side of the hill and what com-pany they were from. I never found out. They never knew thattheir deaths provided mortar ammunition needed to sustainLove Company during this desperate fight. During the battle,our medics and litter bearers again were busy. Our companycooks, a couple of messengers, and armorer-artificer, Techni-cian 5th Class John Arend, acted as litter bearers. Several wereawarded the Bronze Star for heroic service during the April19th through 21st period, including Technician 4th class Carl York,Messenger Wilber Poorman, and Technician 5th class JohnArend.

In spite of the intensity of the action on April 21st. Company Lwas fortunate to have only three men killed in action – Privates1st Class Lesley, Jeanise, and Porta – and 11 men wounded. Wehad taken and held our objective.

The author in 2002


For the night, we established our perimeter on Nishibaru Ridge.As usual, the Mortar Section formed the rear of the perimeternear the base of the ridge – a joint perimeter with the othercompanies of the battalion.

Ernie and I set up our mortar, had a supper of K-rations, andprepared to settle in. We were dead tired, and I imagine every-one else in company was worn out as well. The stress of daysof combat and artillery and mortar shelling were apparent. Toour surprise, the welcome word came that we were to be re-lieved some time the following morning.

Ernie and I settled into our watch routine, but somehow, outof exhaustion, we both fell sound asleep. At about 3:00 A.M. anumber of shots rang out. The M1 bullets passed very nearour foxhole. It was pitch dark and we could not see a thing.There had been no calls for illuminating shells. We asked in amoderate voice, “What’s happening?” We got back a reply froma foxhole farther up the hill, “There were Japs creeping up – Ithink we got them.” Needless to say, Ernie and I slept no morethat night.

With the light of dawn we saw two dead Japanese sprawledout some 25 feet to the side of our foxhole and 40 feet furtherdown the hill. If they had not been spotted, they could haveeasily thrown a hand grenade into our foxhole. One was anofficer with a pistol and the other was a soldier with a rifle.Lesson learned: Someone in each foxhole must keep awake atnight.

At about 7:30 A.M. the Japanese 150mm howitzers openedup. One fired a shell that reached 150 yards beyond our fox-hole. Less than a minute later another shell came in that ex-ploded 75 yards over. I shouted to Ernie, “The next one’s it!Let’s move!” We did what we usually would not do – in a rushwe left our foxhole, leaping onto a little ledge about 10 feetaway where there was a vertical face. About four feet high intothat face was a cut a two-feet-deep recess. Ernie and I lay pronein this recess. At least the next shell could not hit us directly. In afew seconds, the shell came; there was a tremendous explo-sion. The concussion threw me against the wall of the recessand my ears were ringing.

We were shaken, but unhurt. I don’t know why, but I got upand ran along the hillside perpendicular to the shell trajectory.Then the fourth shell landed father up the hill in the center ofour perimeter, harmlessly because there were no foxholes inthis interior portion. The howitzer was now silent. I went backtoward our foxhole and heard cries for a medic. The largeshell had landed about 20 feet from our hole. We could havebeen killed by shrapnel or concussion had we stayed there.Shrapnel had flown into the nearby foxholes, critically wound-ing our Platoon Sergeant, Technical Sergeant Johnny Stec, andwounding the two remaining Mortar Squad Leaders, Sergeants

Dan Rubin and Johnny Wages. Also wounded was ammuni-tion bearer Ed Gallaher. Johnny Stec died of his wounds onApril 24th. Our three Mortar Section men were seriously enoughwounded so that they never returned to Company L.

Love Company is available for purchase at $12.50 for the first copy,and $11 for each additional copy (includes the cost of shipping). To order,contact the author at 608-837-7479 or write to:

Mr. Donald O. Dencker1375 Musket Ridge Dr.Sun Prairie, WI 53590-3436

Mr. Dencker will also be leading a 60th Anniversary Okinawa BattleTour from June 17 to 24, 2005. For a complete itinerary and registra-tion form, contact Valor Tours, Ltd. at 800-842-4504, or write to:

Valor Tours, Ltd.10 Liberty Ship WaySausalito, CA 94965

WWII

World War II Chronicles

A Quarterly Publication of the

World War II Veterans Committee

Issue XXVIII, Spring 2005

David Eisenhower, Honorary Chairman

James C. Roberts, President

Michael Paradiso, Publisher

Tim G.W. Holbert, Program Director/

Editor

World War II Chronicles is

published quarterly by the

American Studies Center

1030 15th St., NW, Suite 856

Washington, D.C. 20005

202-777-7272

The World War II Veterans Committee

is a project of

The American Studies Center,

a 501 (c) (3) non-profit

public education foundation.


The “Typhoon of Steel,” as the locals called the shower of bul-lets, was the largest amphibious assault during the Pacific cam-paign of World War II. As the largest island in the Ryukyu archi-pelago, Okinawa hosted the bloodiest battle of the Pacific fromApril until June. During those three months over 200,000 peopledied, nearly half of them civilians, andmany more were wounded. Moretroops were employed, more bombswere dropped and more supplies weretransported in Okinawa than in any otherbattle in the Pacific.

The invasion began on April 1, 1945when 60,000 American troops from theU.S. 10th Army led by Lt. General SimonBolivar Buckner, the 3rd AmphibiousCorps comprised of the 1st and 6th Ma-rine Divisions under Maj. General RoyS. Geiger, and Task Force 51 com-manded by Vice Admiral Richmond K.Turner stormed the beaches to meetminimal beachfront resistance from theJapanese. The Japanese had pulled theirtroops inland in attempt to avoid casualties that might result fromthe overwhelming firepower from the U.S. Navy and MarineCorps. By the end of the first day the American troops hadmaneuvered their way three miles inland, covering a nine mile-wide spread. The Japanese had buried themselves in trenchesand caves in the heart of the island.

By the end of Saturday, April 2, kamikazes had already struck theUSS West Virginia and several U.S. transport vessels. Not untilday three of the invasion did American troops start to confrontthe masses of Japanese infantry hidden in the island. Lt. Gen.Mitsuru Ushijima, commander of the Japanese 32nd Army, wasin charge of meeting the invasion. It was his plan to hide thetroops within the island to repel the attack from a position ofstrength.

Throughout the next few weeks Americans continued to pushforward through the island while the Japanese continued theirkamikaze attacks. On Apr. 20, the 3rd Amphibious Corps cap-tured the Motobu Peninsula and the northern part of the island.The next day the U.S. 77th Infantry Division captured Ie Shima.By the end of the first month of fighting over 5,000 Japanesehad been killed.

The main battle was fought in the southern part of Okinawa in

Shuri. Gen. Ushijima had anticipated this attack and had com-bined his forces there to counteract the 3rd Amphibious Corps.On Saturday, May 12, the Japanese forces were able to fend offthe 1st Marine Division and the U.S. 77th Division, but not forlong. Slowly but steadily American forces came back to push

their way through the Shuri lines. Oneweek later, the 6th Marine Division con-quered Sugar Loaf Hill, and on May 21,the Japanese troops begin to retreat fromthe Shuri line. At the end of the week,on the 27th, Japanese aircraft commenceda two-day strike of the Allies’ naval ves-sels surrounding the island. One hun-dred Japanese planes were shot downwhile only one American destroyer wassunk. The attacks proved to be unsuc-cessful.

At the beginning of June, the 6th MarineDivision began its assault on the OrokuPeninsula. Japanese forces offered afierce resistance, but the airstrip there waseventually captured and Japanese forces

suffered devastating losses. With the securing of Oroku, the Japa-nese started committing suicide en masse in order to avoid sur-render.

The end of June brought about defeat of the Imperial Armyand the suicide of Gen. Ushijima. When the “mop-up” opera-tions had finished on the island, the number of Japanese soldierskilled amounted to 8,975. Almost 3,000 Japanese prisoners hadbeen taken. On the American side, the battle for Okinawa wasthe costliest in human lives in the entire Pacific war, with 12,520servicemen killed. In the end a total of 110,000 Japanese died ina futile effort to hold onto the island.

The battle of Okinawa was one of the bloodiest of the war,taking more civilian lives (many were the result of suicides) thanany other battle in the Pacific. The men who fought in Okinawaare as brave as can be found during the war. They overcame anunderestimated Japanese army to produce an important, finalvictory in World War II for the Americans and Allied forces.

Hunter Scott is National Youth Representative for the World War II VeteransCommittee. He was instrumental in persuading Congress to pass legislation tooverturn the court martial of Captain Charles McVay of the USS Indianapolis.Hunter is currently a student at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill andenrolled in its Naval ROTC program. WWII

OkinawaA Bloody Prelude to Victory

By Hunter Scott

Hunter Scott pictured with General Richard Myersat the World War II Veterans Committee’s Annual

Conference in 2004

Announcing...

The World War II Veterans

Committee’s Eighth Annual

Conference

November 10-12, 2005Washington, DC

This Veterans Day weekend, join the World War II Veterans Committeeas we learn from and honor the Greatest Generation at our Eighth An-nual Conference. From November 10-12, veterans of the Second WorldWar, their family, friends, and admirers will gather in Washington, DC, tocelebrate the 60th anniversary of the end of World War II, and to passtheir stories on to future generations. Capped off by the Edward J. HerlihyAwards Banquet, which recognizes the heroics of some of America’sgreatest living veterans, the World War II Veterans Committee’s EighthAnnual Conference will prove to be an event that none who attend willsoon forget.

Scheduled Events Include

- Panel Discussions on D-Day and Iwo Jima

- Speakers on the POW Experience

- A Dialogue with members of “E” Company, 506thParachute Infantry, 101st Airborne: the famed Band ofBrothers

- A special tribute to the crew of the Enola Gay

- Panel discussion on the China-Burma-India Theater

- Presentations on Roosevelt, Churchill, and Hitler

- A reception featuring a show on the fashions ofthe World War II-era

- A wreath laying ceremony at the World War II Memorialon the National Mall

- A Choral Evensong church service at the historic Churchof the Epiphany in downtown Washington

- The Eighth Annual Edward J. Herlihy Awards banquet,where special tribute will be paid to the heroes of WorldWar II

And much more!

- A tour of The Price of Freedom: Americans at Warexhibit at the National Museum of American History

- Presentations from survivors of the Nazi deathcamps and the American soldiers who liberatedthem

(Note: Schedule is tentative and subject to change)

- Special presentations of World War II film For more information or to request a registration form,call the World War II Veterans Committee at

202-777-7272 ext. 220

- Speakers on the fall of Nazi Germany and ImperialJapan

A World War II-era swing band dance featuring a 21-piece orchestra

Perhaps the most famous book writtenon the battle of Iwo Jima, Flags of OurFathers is the story of the enduring im-age of World War II: the flag-raisingatop Mt. Suribachi. Written by JamesBradley, son of one of the six men whoraised the flag captured on film by JoeRosenthal, this classic book powerfullyrecounts the lives of these six young menwho created a moment that would lastan eternity. Three of the men would

not survive the battle, and the three who made it home be-came reluctant heroes, shunning the adulation heaped uponthem by the public. As Bradley’s father would tell him, “Thereal heroes of Iwo Jima were the guys who didn’t come back.”

Flags of Our Fathers is currently slated to be adapted into afeature film, directed by Clint Eastwood and produced bySteven Spielberg.


The World War II Book ClubFeaturing Books About World War II

-Special Iwo Jima Classics Edition-

FLFLFLFLFLAAAAAGS OF OUR FAGS OF OUR FAGS OF OUR FAGS OF OUR FAGS OF OUR FATHERSTHERSTHERSTHERSTHERSby James BradleyBantam Books; 384 pages $26 (Hardcover)

NIGHTMARE ON IWONIGHTMARE ON IWONIGHTMARE ON IWONIGHTMARE ON IWONIGHTMARE ON IWOby Patrick CarusoNaval Institute Press; 164 pages $24.95 (Hardcover)

When Pat Caruso landed on Iwo Jima inFebruary 1945 as a Marine second lieu-tenant, he was sixth in K Company’s chainof command. Within an hour of the ini-tial assault, with his senior officers andone-third of his company’s 230 mendead or wounded, he took command.Fourteen days later, he was wounded andevacuated, one of only a dozen or so inthe company to survive the campaign.Until then, he had never known the full

meaning of the word grateful, and he felt compelled to keepalive what he had observed. From a hospital bed in Guam hebegan writing down his thoughts on discarded hospital reports,paper bags, and anything else he could find. What emerged isone of the great memoirs of that epochal battle of the PacificWar, where the U.S. Marine Corps suffered more casualtiesthan they inflicted—the only time in their history—yet emergedvictorious. Caruso’s prose is concise and vivid, placing the readeron the black ash beach beside him. Enduring lonely, terrifyingnights when the dawn seemed never to come, inhaling the stenchof death while listening to the agonized cries of wounded com-rades, sharing moments of introspection, he always thoughthis next step toward the enemy might be his last.

THE LONG THE SHORT ANDTHE LONG THE SHORT ANDTHE LONG THE SHORT ANDTHE LONG THE SHORT ANDTHE LONG THE SHORT ANDTHE TALLTHE TALLTHE TALLTHE TALLTHE TALLMARINES IN COMBAT ON GUAM AND IWO JIMA

by Alvin M. JosephyBurford Books; 240 pages $16.95 (Paperback)

In May, 1944, Alvin M. Josephy was aU.S. Marine sergeant and war corre-spondent with the 3rd Marine Divi-sion, leaving Guadalcanal for Guam.This narrative of the ensuing monthsfollows Josephy through the Guama-nian jungle, and on into the teeth ofone of the bloodiest assaults in all war-fare — Iwo Jima. Accompanied by nu-merous photographs of the battle, TheLong the Short and the Tall is a supremelyvivid and spellbinding account of one

of the most famous chapters in military history. In the wordsof the author, “Iwo Jima was the most ferocious battle theMarines have ever fought. And they were treating it that waywhile we were still fighting.”

IWO JIMAIWO JIMAIWO JIMAIWO JIMAIWO JIMATHE DRAMATIC ACCOUNT OF THE EPIC BATTLE

THAT TURNED THE TIDE OF WORLD WAR II

by Richard NewcombHenry Holt & Company; 352 pages $15.00 (Paperback)

Richard F. Newcomb is one of the truemasters of military storytelling. In re-searching Iwo Jima he interviewed hun-dreds of Iwo veterans, both Americanand Japanese; read the diaries and lettersof fighting men; and combed throughmasses of official navy and marinerecords to write the full story of one ofthe most famous battles in U.S. history.With exceptional depth, intelligence, and

emotional power, Newcomb recounts the events of February19, 1945, in which common men were thrust into impossiblecircumstances, demonstrating valor and even humor amid thehorror and chaos of war

All books can be found at local bookstores or www.amazon.com

World War II Veterans CommitteeA Project of The American Studies Center1030 15th St., NW, Suite 856Washington, D.C. 20005

NONPROFIT ORG.U.S. POSTAGE

PAIDWALDORF, MDPERMIT NO. 30

The Dedication of Trimble Field:1945 - 2005

In early 1944, a young man by the name of Jimmy Trimble made the decision to join the UnitedStates Marine Corps. Like so many others his age, he wanted nothing more than to serve hiscountry in its time of need. And like so many others, he was willing to give up his life back hometo do so. Trimble had much to give up. He had been a star pitcher for St. Albans High School inWashington, DC, and was offered a contract to pitch for the Washington Senators. Many who sawhim pitch were sure he would be the next Walter Johnson or Bob Feller. Still, though he lovedbaseball more than anything, Trimble felt compelled to serve. Disqualified from officer trainingdue to poor sight in one eye, Trimble (pictured left pitching for the 3rd Marine Division All-Starteam in Guam) instead opted to join the Marine Corps as an enlisted man.

On the night of February 27, 1945, Jimmy Trimble found himself assigned to an eight-manplatoon charged with locating enemy rocket sites on the volcanic island of Iwo Jima. Perhaps“assigned” is the wrong word, as Trimble, true to form, was the first to volunteer for themission and was joined by his good friends Don Mates and Jim White. Just after midnight,the patrol came under a ferocious attack from the Japanese forces. Trimble and Mates,together in a foxhole, fought desperately to repel the attack. Still, the sheer numbers of theenemy were too much, and Trimble was killed, while Mates was badly wounded. Jim White,in a nearby foxhole, scrambled across the field of battle to retrieve Mates, then almostsingle-handedly fought off the Japanese attack.

Learning of Trimble’s death, 3rd Marine Division commander Maj. Gen. Graves Erskinewas devastated. Trimble’s bravery and outgoing personality had made him a favorite of theGeneral’s. Two months later, at a ceremony on Guam, the 3rd Division baseball field wasnamed in honor of Jimmy Trimble by the personal order of Erskine (pictured aboveright). As the war ended and the years went by, Trimble Field was slowly forgotten in time.In recent years, the World War II Veterans Committee has sought to preserve the legacy ofthe brave men and women like Jimmy Trimble who made the ultimate sacrifice, and hasnamed its annual youth scholarship award after Trimble. To coincide with the 60th anni-versary of Iwo Jima and Trimble’s death, the World War II Veterans Committee joinedwith the Young Marines and Mayor Jose Terlaje of Yona, Guam, to dedicate a new TrimbleField (pictured left), less than a mile from the original. Fittingly, Trimble’s friend and com-rade-in-arms Jim White threw out the first pitch. Among those participating in the cer-

emony were Felix Camacho, the Governor of Guam; Admiral Arthur Johnson, Commander of U.S. Naval Forces Marianas;Minoru Shibuya, Japanese Consul General in Guam; and Congressmen Darrell Issa, Madeleine Bordallo, and Lane Evans. Presi-dent George W. Bush said in remarks read at the dedication, “Brave Marines, like Private Trimble, served courageously on IwoJima as they fought for our security and advanced the cause of liberty. Americans continue to be inspired by the valor and integrityof those who fought this battle and in World War II. When it mattered most, an entire generation of Americans showed the finestqualities of our Nation and humanity.”

veterans remember iwo jima€¦ · the costly final push toward the japanese homeland ... fighter...

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