part0023

W hen I think of the Pacific Islands, I conjure up comforting images of white sand beaches, sunshine and an endless horizon of blue seas. Not on Iwo Jima. It's a bleak volcanic slab of scrubby vegetation and black ash, shaped like an overloaded ice cream cone that's frequently lashed with driving rain.

Iwo Jima means sulfur Island. It's that evil-smelling chemical similar to rotten eggs. It emanates from the dormant volcano that makes up the glowering hillside in the southern tip. The island is only eight square miles and it takes about five minutes to drive across it. During the war, many Pacific Islands inhabited by Japanese soldiers were cut off from supplies by the allies and left to surrender or starve.

Iwo Jima was a notable exception. The island had two Japanese Air Force bases inland from the stone and ash beaches. From here, our fighter planes could pound the factories and cities of mainland Japan. When we took Iwo Jima, we’d provide these bombers with a closer base to Japan, especially for the emergency landings on the return journey .

The battle for Iwo Jima was one of the fiercest in the Pacific. The soldiers of Imperial Japan, since the 30s, had fought to build a Japanese Empire in the Pacific. They conquered territories that were once part of the fading European empire. These soldiers fought with suicidal cruelty and infamous bravery. They had only contempt for enemy soldiers who surrendered even if defeat seemed inevitable. When Japanese soldiers faced certain capture, they’d rather kill themselves than fall into enemy hands.

We fought with unquestionable bravery, but it was not our culture to sacrifice ourselves needlessly if defeat was inevitable. We’d been at war with Japan since 1941 when they bombed Pearl Harbor. Admiral Yamamoto, the architect of that attack, who was never convinced in its wisdom, stated:

He was right. We were one of the wealthiest, most powerful nations on earth. When war broke out, our country devoted our entire resources to fighting. The invasion fleet sent to attack Iwo Jima was extraordinary. It was over 70 miles long. We had over 850 warships with almost 300,000 men. A third of them were intended to fight on the island itself. The Japanese knew the strength of their enemy. Several diplomats and senior soldiers in the Japanese High Command had lived in America before the war.

The commander of Hiroshima, General Kuribayashi, was one of them. His strategy to defend the tiny island was effective but grim. He ordered his outgunned 20,000 soldiers with no hope of rescue to stand to the last man on an island that was sure to fall. He reminded them that they had a sacred duty to defend this Japanese territory to the death. Every soldier was instructed to kill at least 10 Americans before they perished.

General Kuribayashi and his masters in Japan knew that the US troops were heading toward the mainland intent on conquering Japan. They hoped that the American losses on Iwo Jima would be appalling. Causing the American public to force President Roosevelt to come up with a peace treaty to prevent an invasion and national humiliation. In the months before the invasion, Iwo Jima was turned into a fortress, concrete gun emplacements, pillboxes, and scattered machine gun nests dug into the mountain littered the island. Every cave was full of soldiers, and there was an intricate network of tunnels underneath that linked them up. There were underground hospitals large enough to treat over 500 wounded men. The Japanese soldiers weren’t on Iwo Jima—they were in it. I later read that in no other area in the history of warfare was as skillfully fortified by nature and by man.

We were sent to seize this tiny island with the third, fourth, fifth, and 21st divisions of the US Marines. The Marines prided themselves on their skill of amphibious assaults, fierce fighting, and intense loyalty. But the majority of those sent to Iwo Jima had never been in combat before. Most were like me, still boys of 18 or 19. We were about to be thrown into one of the most savage battles of the history of warfare. At an age when other young men would still be grappling with their first year of college, or even in high school, with their first love, or first job. Most had still not yet left home. There were boys younger than 16. Some were 16 and 17, who’d lied about their age when they were recruited. It wasn’t a surprise when these boys died at the point of a Japanese bayonet or were blown in half by a mortar shell. The facade of manly toughness seared away and their last words were often a desperate, frantic cry to their mothers.

We began the attack on the morning of February 19th . The sunrise was pink in a pale blue sky. Before we started our invasion, we spent a sleepless night in preparation for the assault. Our day began at three in the morning. We were fed steak and eggs for breakfast. Then, after 7 a.m., we filed off to our enormous troop transport ships down metal steps to fill the holds of the smaller landing craft that would take us to the island. I heard a fellow soldier who’d never been in combat recall some sarcastic advice he received from another soldier. He said:

Naval shelling of the island stopped at nine o'clock in the morning. Five minutes later, clumsy amphibious tanks emerged from the landing craft onto the soft beaches, which ran for over two miles down the south side of the island. They drove underneath the hateful gaze of Mount Suribachi. The invasion was only two minutes behind the carefully planned schedule.

Fear clutched my heart. As we approached the enemy shoreline, an intense blast of adrenaline pulsed through my body. I knew when the heavy steel door at the front of my landing craft lowered onto the frothing sea at the edge of the beach. I'd be exposed to machine-gun fire and possibly ripped to shreds. That is if I hadn't been already blown up by a shell before my boat reached the shore.

When the doors of the first wave went down, we were greeted by the smell of rotten eggs and sulfur. The shells from our ships and planes were whistling over our heads onto the island. We saw no Japanese. At first, I assumed because of the 75-day bombardment of the island by the US Navy and carrier aircraft; they might have wiped out the Japanese defenders.

I later found out General Kuribayashi had ordered his men to hold their fire while the beach filled up with American troops, tanks, and supplies. It was a full hour before the Japanese bombardment began after we started our invasion, and it was catastrophic. Through the chaos of disembarking tanks, bulldozers, and Caterpillar tractors around the beach, a lethal rain of bullets, shells, and mortar fire fell on us. I remember that Mount Suribachi lit up like a Christmas tree only instead of tinsel and lights, it was hellfire and guns. The whole mountainside turned into a fortress. Seven stories of fire platforms and gun emplacements were hollowed out of its interior. There was nowhere to hide.

We hugged the soft sand as bullets flew so low they ripped our clothes and supplies in our backpacks to shreds. The loss of life was hideous. My fellow soldiers were torn apart by shells. Their bodies spread all over the beach. Even some of the hardened NCOs vomited in horror. Others caught directly by explosive shells were vaporized, no trace left of human remains. I yelled over to my Sergeant and asked him if this was a bad battle in the heat of the fighting. He shouted back:

In less than three seconds, he was blown to pieces by a mortar.

I remember thinking that Iwo Jima was like running through rain and not getting wet. I later read that the life expectancy of a soldier in the battle was less than 20 seconds. In that first hour of shelling, the success of the invasion hung in the balance. It took a terrible toll. Several things about Iwo Jima made it especially horrifying. The intensity of the Japanese bombardment made it not matter if a soldier hid in a fox hole or charged up open land, he'd be killed. We only saw our Japanese adversaries after we killed them. Most of the time, we were fired on by an unseen foe who could see us, but we couldn't see them.

Once we were off the beach, we headed into thin scrub and grasses. It was terrain peppered with pillboxes, caves, rocks, and blockhouses, all of which sheltered the Japanese soldiers. We attacked the Japanese with machine-gun fire, flame throwers, and grenades. The tunnel system they’d built underneath the mountain linked their strong points. That meant when we neutralized a blockhouse, it would become quickly lethal again with other Japanese soldiers crawling through the tunnels shooting at our backs.

Even through the slaughter, we were winning. The horrific opening bombardment had not driven us off the beach. And by now 10,000 more Marines had come ashore. By mid-morning, one company from the 20th Marine Regiment had managed to cross the 700 yards that separated the furthest Southern landing from the islands Western shore. Their casualties were immense. Of the 250 men in the company, only 37 still stood. That night the fighting faded, and over 30,000 men had managed to come ashore.

By now, we were exhausted and laid huddled in shallow holes and trenches Japanese soldiers snuck through the darkness to try and murder us. The next morning brought fierce winds and high seas, making any further landings impossible. Other Marine forces began to cautiously to infiltrate the Northern interior of the island, and the grand plan for the day was to attack Mount Suribachi itself.

I was one of the 3,000 Marines of the 28th regiment. On that day, we edged up to the base of the mountain. The weather on the third morning of the island brought no relief. It was going to be a grim day to die. As we prepared for our assault, an artillery barrage from behind our lines opened up for an hour. Navy carrier planes went into plaster the mountain with rockets. The designated hour of the attack came, but no order to advance was given. We've were promised tanks to protect us as we ran over the open ground toward the tangle of vegetation that covered the base of Mount Suribachi.

There were no tanks available for us. Without tanks, our losses would be far worse than we were already expecting. They were short of shells and fuel. So, Marine High Command decided the attack would go on anyway. The order was passed, and the regiment was ordered to charge forward without tanks. A feeling of dread swept through me. A fellow soldier reminded me that this would be like his father's slaughterhouse when cattle realize they were about to be killed.

I summoned all my inner courage. The fear was like a physical weight bearing down on me. I broke cover and ran toward the mountain slope. I expected to be cut down in seconds. As I ran, I saw hundreds of other Marines behind me and to the side of me. Mount Suribachi erupted into a dazzling flash of fire, bullets, and shells raining down on the charging Marines. We had been trained to advance at all costs.

We gradually reached the base of the mountain. The man to my right fell, his legs were peppered with shrapnel. I took cover behind a rock and tried to treat his wounds until a medic arrived and gave him pain-killing morphine. I continued forward, trying to destroy the blockhouses and machine guns that lay at the foot of Mount Suribachi.

When the men with flame throwers were able to get close enough to do their hideous work, tanks eventually appeared to help our assault. The Japanese defenders on the mountain began to crumble. Throughout the day of fighting, the companies and platoons of the regiment inched further and further up the mountain. By nightfall, we had even penetrated behind Japanese lines. We laid low amid the parachute flares and searchlights from offshore ships that came out in penetrating brilliance.

Every moving shadow was potentially an approaching Japanese soldier. On the fourth day, we continued to creep forward, sometimes hearing the enemy in tunnels and the command post beneath us. More often than not, only locating a Japanese strong point, when a hill of fire was unleashed on them. Now, we had strong artillery and tank support. The Japanese defenders inside the mountain were burned and blown into oblivion.

In the fading light, the Japanese soldiers became aware that they were cut off from retreat and tried to stage a breakout. Over 200 Japanese soldiers broke cover and desperately dashed down the mountain, only to be slaughtered. We got our first sight of the soldiers who had rained such hell on us. We counted less than 25 that made it back to the Japanese lines. On the fifth day, our morale boosted immensely. The fighting strength of the Japanese soldiers inside Mount Suribachi was gone. It was now possible to capture the mountain outright. If the Marine command was wrong, it could prove to be a very costly gamble.

Our days fighting began with another air attack. US Navy planes smothered the top of the mountain with napalm. After that, the mountain seemed quiet. I wondered if all the remaining Japanese had fled. There was only one way to find out. I was part of a four-man patrol sent to summit the mountain's 550-foot peak. Every footstep could bring death, but the enemy never fired on us.

The Marine High Command decided to risk a 40-man platoon. As our platoon snaked higher up the mountain, we caught the eye of every man on the beach. We expected the remaining Japanese on the mountain to open up and cut us to ribbons. Our platoon advanced with great caution. Every cave we passed, someone tossed in a grenade in case it contained enemy troops. And after a tense half-hour, we stood breathless at the top, not quite believing that we were still alive.

At 10:20 a.m., we raised the stars and stripes and used a piece of drainage pipe as a flagpole. When the flag went up, a huge cheer rose from the throats of thousands of Marines watching below. The warships offshore sounded their horns, and the men onboard hollered in triumph. Even though the fighting was far from over, seeing the American flag flying over Iwo Jima was the highest point of the battle. It convinced every Marine that we were there to stay. We stood around the flag and posed for the Army photographer. The flag fluttered in a stiff breeze as we stood out on top of the mountain. I’ll never forget that day. I also remember thinking that we were now a target for every enemy sniper and artilleryman within range. It was like standing in the middle of a bullseye.

The noise from raising the flag alerted the Japanese. The ragged Japanese soldiers emerged from their hiding places. They fired rounds at us and tossed grenades. We dove for cover and shot back. Amazingly, no one was hurt, and the mountains settled down again in silence. Several hundred troops remained on Mount Suribachi, but they had all lost the will to carry on. Most of the Japanese soldiers chose to kill themselves rather than fight to the death or surrender.

Mount Suribachi may have been the most strategically useful spot on the island, but its conquest was symbolic. Another month of slow, agonizing fighting dragged on before the 20,000 men under General Kuribayashi’s command were finally wiped out. Less than 200 taken prisoner. The last of these surrendered in 1949 when he found a scrap of newspaper reporting on the American occupation of Japan. The remaining Japanese soldiers hid in the maze of defensive tunnels inside the mountain. For nearly four years, they ate food from US Army supplies to keep from starving.

Our casualties were horrific. For the Marines that landed on the first day, nearly 6,000 were killed, and over 17,000 were wounded. General Kuribayashi’s Japanese soldiers sold their lives for at least one or two American deaths. Survival seemed a matter of luck. I fought for 36 days and was injured several times. I survived a nighttime sword attack. I woke up to hear a Japanese soldier attacking the soldier next to me. On another occasion, as I talked to a soldier, he was shot in the face in mid-conversation.

After the battle on a troopship home, I was haunted by nightmares of combat. Once, I woke to find myself strangling the man in the next bunk. The Battle of Iwo Jima served its purpose. Japanese fighter planes no longer harassed American bombers that passed over the island.

In the final months of the war, over 2,000 damaged B-29s , which would otherwise have crashed into the sea, were able to land. This saved over 27,000 US Airmen onboard these huge bombers from certain death.