As a writer of military history, I became aware in the spring of 2015 of an annual essay contest that was sponsored by the U.S. Naval Institute. That year’s contest carried a first prize of $5,000. The essay could be no more than 3,000 words, and the topic was to be on some noteworthy U.S. Marine Corps event that had made a significant impact in American history. Having researched and written most of my career on either the American Civil War or the European Theater in World War II, I realized that writing about Marines would be a challenge. This would be a new avenue of historical investigation for me.
Unsure of what subject to write about, I consulted with a few of my American Legion cohorts who were Marine veterans. Their consensus was that I write about the controversial invasion of Peleliu that had taken place in September, 1944. They felt that the Marines that had landed had been needlessly wasted in that bloody operation, and that their story had never adequately been told. A Navy buddy of mine suggested that if I were to decide to write about Peleliu, that I should consult with an old World War II Marine veteran, one who lived relatively near me in central Ohio and who had been there. His name was George Peto. He was one of what they called the “Old Breed” and had actually participated in the Peleliu operation.
George and I first met on June 24, 2015 in a Bob Evans restaurant to discuss the idea. We immediately took a liking to each other, and I invited him to assist me with the essay. We felt that we would make a good team, since I was an experienced writer and researcher, and George had not only been there with the first wave, but had a remarkable memory about what he had experienced.
Our essay unfortunately did not win the contest, so George and I decided to expand our work and turn what we had written into a book. During the course of our endeavor though, as this exceptional old man told me more about his past, I listened, fascinated, marveling at his consistent, detailed memory of extraordinary things that had happened to him many decades ago. At last, I realized that a much better book to write would be about his life. I wanted to—I had to—write about him, to preserve his memories for everyone, especially his daughter Nancy, his son George Lee, and his friends. He good-naturedly agreed, and so we were off.
The result was an incredible story about a remarkable Marine. Published in late July, 2017 and entitled Twenty-Two on Peleliu, it detailed George’s exploits, from a young boy growing up in the backwoods of southern Akron, Ohio, to the hot dry plains of Utah, working on soil conservation projects with the Civilian Conservation Corps, to his exploits as a Marine, and his life after the war. It follows his early career in the Marines, to the jungles of the Pacific in intensive Pacific campaigns, to his life back in Ohio.
I truly enjoyed co-writing about his exciting life, while at the same time, I was able to gather so much information from him and from our research about war in the Pacific. Unfortunately, just after our first draft was finished, George passed away. I had vowed to see the book published, and so I continued on, finishing the book, and securing a publisher.
As I awaited the book’s release though, a nagging thought kept popping up in my mind. I had never followed through on our original project. I knew from my investigations and from my experiences with Mr. Peto exactly how brutal the Peleliu operation had been for the First Marine Division. And my research had uncovered a whole myriad of accounts that were either not true, imprecise, or never really studied. One such controversy, for instance, centered on the U.S. Navy’s third and last day of intensive, pre-invasion bombardment. Some accounts claimed that it never happened. A few claim that it did, and was quite effective in achieving its objectives. I eventually discovered that the truth was somewhere in the middle.
These inaccuracies and the need to get a correct analysis out, along with a healthy dose of guilt for not having finished the narrative, led me to undertake the project once again. The original story that my friend George had provided so much detailed, first-hand information on before he passed away needed to be told.
The Peleliu operation, I found out, was considered a relatively small part of a much larger, global effort, and as such had been hurriedly planned, and only with “available” resources and supplies. The Marines who participated in the operation, after having had to live for months in primitive conditions on which to train and get ready, were transported to and landed onto what unexpectedly was discovered to be a veritable hornets’ nest. There they had to fight a ferocious battle that they had not anticipated, nor for which they had been adequately been allowed to prepare.
Hence, this book. I hope that in many ways, it clears up most of the clouds that surround earlier historical accounts. The conclusions reached here, while under my pen, are mostly those agreed upon by those who had been there or had been in operational command at that time.
I would like to thank a couple people for helping me in my endeavor. My heartfelt appreciation goes to George Peto’s daughter and son, Nancy and George Lee, for their continuing support in their father’s initial project. I would like to offer my appreciation as well for the Marine Corps League, especially the Belleau Woods Detachment #508 in Columbus, Ohio, for their unswerving cooperation and assistance. Last, my deep gratitude to my wonderful wife Mindy, who continues for some reason to put up with my bizarre methods and eccentric moods.
Peter Margaritis