The battle to take Kakazu Gorge continued into the night and the next day. The stories of struggle and survival circulated among the men, and by the next day we’d heard them from many different sources. When I reported to Command headquarters, I listened to the fight to take the gorge from a different angle. Company L of the 383rd Infantry had had their own experience, for which they ultimately received battle honors.
On April 9, the company received an assignment to assault a T-shaped spur on the Kakazu Ridge in the town of Kakazu. Of course, we knew the area was heavily fortified. However, capturing and holding this area would give headquarters complete observation and firing position over the entire Japanese-held area behind Kakazu. Obviously, taking the spur would be of supreme importance.
Company L quietly and carefully started up the hill. Captain Fred Caldwell stopped the men near the top.
The captain told the unit to fix their bayonets. They had the jump on the Japanese so far and were close enough that when the enemy discovered they were there, it would be mano a mano. The captain told the unit heads up and good luck.
The men quietly began fixing their bayonets to the tip of their rifles.
Caldwell whispered to not make a sound in order to maintain their advantage. He led the men forward.
L Company had nearly made it to the top when a heavily fortified Japanese unit realized the Yanks were on top of them. They turned to face the attackers.
Caldwell screamed to hit them.
L Company leaped into the midst of the enemy. The Japanese tried to engage the unit, but the Americans fought like crazy men. Some fired their rifles at close range. Soldiers ended up on top of some of the Japanese, plunging their bayonets into the enemies’ chests. The dead piled up.
The captain kept yelling, “Don’t stop! They’re on the run.”
L Company fought with an almost tireless vigor. On all sides, men were fighting in hand-to-hand combat. The bloody struggle didn’t let up.
Slashing and slinging continued for what seemed like hours but was actually more like minutes. The Japanese ended up being wiped out, while L Company occupied their former position. The enemy retreated.
While the Japanese were going under, G Company charged up the left side of the hill and I Company came from the right. Withering machine-gun fire opened up on both companies.
G Company’s commanding officer ordered his men to stay low. They had to kill the enemy first, then advance. The men exchanged bullet for bullet, but the Japanese had dug in like they planned to be there until Christmas.
One of the men called out that they couldn’t make any progress and were getting killed.
A soldier in the middle shouted that they were in trouble.
The commanding officer grabbed the phone and yelled over the gunfire that they were stuck and simply couldn’t move. He realized their lack of forward progress jeopardized L Company, but he didn’t know what to do other than retreat. The enemy were about to counterattack for sure.
The voice on the other end shouted back.
The officer listened for a moment, sighed, and hung up. Then he told the survivors to get ready for an attack.
Over on L Company’s side, the Japanese had begun to retaliate. Heavy artillery started blasting.
Captain Fred Caldwell started counting heads. Clearly, their losses had been heavy and were about to mount. Without the soldiers who had fallen, they were in a tough spot. Caldwell called out from behind a boulder and told the men to hang on.
Some of the men grimaced while others bowed their heads. Every one of them knew their chances of survival were zero. No one answered with a grumbling word. They simply hunkered down.
The Japanese returned with a vengeance, but L Company fought like hungry tigers. Again and again, the enemy charged. Again and again, L Company held their ground. Through the remainder of the afternoon, the Japanese kept littering the ground with dead Americans.
Around 6:30 p.m., Sergeant Earl Blevins crawled over to Captain Caldwell and told him they were almost out of ammunition. If they ran out, they were dead for sure.
Caldwell nodded. They had no alternative but to get out of there. He wondered how many had been killed.
Sergeant Blevins had been counting and guessed we had killed about 160 of the enemy. He saw the bodies of a colonel and a major. L Company had knocked out a 320mm mortar when they took the hill. That wasn’t exactly a bad day’s work.
The captain wanted to know how many their unit had lost so far.
Blevins took off his helmet for a moment and wiped his forehead. Immediately, he put the helmet back on. Ten of their boys were killed and thirty wounded. He couldn’t account for five missing out there somewhere.
Caldwell took a deep breath, shook his head, and swore. Without artillery, they had to get down the hill.
Captain Caldwell sounded the retreat. He sounded for the men to cover their asses and start going backward.
The men silently began backing down the hill.
Even with the withdrawal, L Company had breached the enemy’s defenses, which allowed the entire command to advance. The bravery and fortitude of all these men could not be overstated.
The next day proved to be equally exasperating.
During the fray, the Third Battalion had been scheduled to launch an attack at 5:00 a.m. but got delayed. Company I ended up getting caught in an open field after the sun had come up. Because they were now observable, the Japanese rained hellfire down on them. The Third ended up being unable to move in any direction. Company L got across the open ground and back up the slopes of the gorge before the Japanese realized they were there. Once the enemy recognized what was coming, they targeted the same open field. The exact area the company had just crossed was now blanketed with every type of mortar and artillery the Japanese had. Company L recognized that I Company had been cut off and that they were isolated.
Lieutenant Willard Mitchell, who had taken command of Company L, wasted no time in taking control of the situation. A southern guy, Mitchell had played football and basketball at Mississippi State College, ending up with the name “Hoss.” When Hoss realized they couldn’t retreat, he saw no way out except to charge ahead.
With a loud, booming voice, he demanded the men move out. Hoss yelled that they could get to the top of the hill.
The men began firing left and right and didn’t stop until they reached the ridge. The hilltop stretched from one side to the other with a shallow saddle between. Hoss and his men kept firing until they had conquered the hill. Unfortunately, the entire area was filled with Japanese who weren’t backing off.
Hand grenades flew right and left. Mortars exploded. Flying dirt dropped on the soldiers. Both sides fired back with only a few yards between them. Finally, Hoss’s crew observed the Japanese wheeling a tracked launcher out of a cave. The enemy fired a round and then pulled the launcher back into the cave.
Hoss knew they had to knock out that launcher. He asked six volunteers to go down there and finish business.
For a moment no one moved. Slowly, one by one, six hands went up.
The men began crawling at a snail’s space toward the cave. Machine-gun fire never let up. Ducking, rolling, inching along, the soldiers moved ever closer to the cave.
One of the men cried and rolled over screaming that he got hit in the leg.
No one pushed on until a tourniquet had been applied. They again crawled closer to the cave. Two more men doubled and gasped. Rifle fire had hit them.
The remaining three crept next to the entrance. The creaking sound of wheels rolling signaled that the launcher would be coming out momentarily. The three soldiers hurled satchel charges into the entrance. An explosion rocked the cave. Smoke billowed out. The wheels quit rolling.
By the time the men returned, only one was not wounded.
Hoss and Company L hunkered down. More would soon be coming their way.