i

ii

1

My Iwo Jima Story

By Leslie Gadbury

Fifty-five years later after being encouraged to write an accounting of my

experiences and observations as a member of a rifle company during the Iwo Jima

campaign in 1945, I will give my best effort in telling my story. I have often heard that I

never talked about any of my experiences. I had nothing to hide and plenty to tell, and

would gladly answer any questions anyone asked. It always seemed that no one cared, so

I just kept quiet.

I’ll always honor and celebrate the lives of those who were lost. They are the

ones who deserve the acknowledgment and any due credit. I’ll never forget the sacrifices

they and their families made. These men were the true heroes who laid their lives on the

line, asking nothing in return.

I was in C Company, 1st Battalion, and 9th Regiment in the 3rd Marine Division.

This was my company from Mar. 4, 1942 till Apr. 27, 1945. Following our assault

landing on Guam, July 21, 1944, and taking back the first United States possession from

the Japanese, we went into training for our next campaign.

On Feb. 9th, 1945, in full combat gear plus rifles, machine guns and mortars, our

company left our base camp and hiked across the narrow part of the island of Guam to

board ship. Upon our arrival, we found we had to wait until the next day to go aboard the

U. S. S. Fayette, an APA (assault troop transport ship).

Once at sea, we received our orders that we were headed to Iwo Jima. We’d

never heard of it. During the next days we received information about the island. It was

600 miles from Japan, was 5 ½ miles long and 2 ½ miles wide at its widest point with a

560-foot extinct volcano at the south end called Suribachi. Next to the volcano the

terrain was rather flat for about a mile and wasn’t more than 100 ft above sea level. Then

the land started rising rather rapidly up to over 350 ft.

2

We studied replicas of the island laid out on 4 x 8-foot sheets of plywood. These

models showed the topography of all the terrain features including Suribachi, the No. 1

airfield at the south end, the No. 2 airfield in the middle of the island, and the unfinished

No. 3 airfield at the north end. Also shown on these reproductions were many of the gun

emplacements including coastal guns, anti-aircraft guns, anti-tank weapons, artillery

positions, pill boxes and too many other types of defenses to mention.

Upon our arrival at Iwo Jima, we learned that the 4th and 5th Marine Divisions

were to land first on Feb. 19, 1945, and that we, the 3rd Marine Division, would be held in

reserve and be ready to land when and where needed. Our leaders thought it would be a

rather short campaign and our division would be saved for the invasion of Japan at a later

date.

So we waited until on Feb. 21, when the 21st Regiment of our 3rd Division was

called in. We could watch much of the action ashore through field glasses. Then finally

on Feb. 24, our regiment “The Striking Ninth Marines” got its call.

We climbed down the cargo nest, heavily loaded, into larger Higgins boats –

actually LCVPs for Landing Craft Vehicles or Personnel. The sea was rough and the surf

so bad that these larger boats were needed to keep from being swamped on the beach.

Many of the original landings were made using amphibian tanks or tractors.

After circling in the rough seas for an hour or so, just long enough to get you good

and seasick, the ramps dropped on the beach. We could not believe the amount of

wreckage, destruction and clutter. There was hardly any space for us to land. We

noticed that large steel mats had been laid like a road keeping vehicles and tanks from

miring down in the volcanic ash that was everywhere in the area.

We soon discovered that every step you took in the volcanic ash, something like

loose sand, resulted in your sinking almost ankle deep. Being heavily loaded and after

3

climbing the numerous terraces of this ash had us badly winded. Although we weren’t

under fire at this time, we moved as rapidly as possible across the No. 1 airfield at its

south end. We dug in for the night just in front of an artillery battery.

It wasn’t long before we received some mortar and artillery fire from the north

end of the island. Then that night, our first ashore, we received an introduction to a new

type of rocket used by the enemy. These were about the size of one of the 16-inch shells

used by our battleships lying offshore. Lacking a better name to call these rockets, we

referred to them in our own terminology as ‘screaming leanies’ because they made such a

noise when launched. They sounded like a freight train rolling down a track when

traveling through the air. We could see them in flight. Whenever one of these hit, it

made the loudest explosion I had ever heard. It was very cool that night and I shivered a

few times. Was it from the cold or the ‘screamers’?

These rockets were not accurate, and the majority were over-shooting the south

end of the island. I think this was an excellent psychological weapon for the enemy. It

was too terrifying to think about being on the receiving end of such an explosion. Later

in the campaign I did have a very close, first-hand experience with one of these rockets.

On this day, Feb. 24th, the front lines were not as far as ‘the leaders’ figured they

would be after the 1st day. There wasn’t room for our regiment to land earlier.

The next morning Feb. 25th, we moved out in the direction of the No. 2 airfield.

Our 21st Regiment was already up in that general area and we were to move through them

into the attack. We were well spread out as we walked down the No.1 airfield toward its

north end. Our movement had been spotted and we were receiving fire from 20-

millimeter anti-aircraft guns. This type shell exploded on contact and rounds were hitting

all around us. We kept moving through this fire and miraculously had very few, if any,

casualties to my knowledge.

4

I was a machine gun squad leader and Leonce Joseph LeBlanc, a good friend, was

the other squad leader in Robert L. Poole’s machine gun section. Robert L. Poole was

one of my best friends. Each squad had a No. 1 and No. 2 gunner plus ammunition

carriers. At this time each machine gun squad was using the light 30-caliber air-cooled

guns. We could, if needed, have the heavy water-cooled guns that were kept in the

reserve by our quartermaster. Each machine gun section was always attached to one of

our rifle platoons.

At the end of the No. 1 airfield we moved into rough terrain. We soon discovered

what it was going to be like ahead as we came under heavy fire from mortars and artillery

plus machine gun and rifle fire. There were shell holes every few feet. As you emerged

from one, you would take two or three steps, and then jump into another. It was a matter

of moving from shell hole to shell hole, and it had better be done quickly.

There was still volcanic ash this far up the island. The sides of these shell holes

were composed of loose ash that would crumble and slide towards the bottom when

touched. Some of these holes may have been 6 to 10 or more feet deep and maybe 10 to

20 feet or more wide at the top. There really wasn’t that much protection from the enemy

fire while in one of these.

While moving through this area, there were two occasions when I went back to

check on missing members of my squad. The first time back, I was looking for Stanley

Carmichael, from Oklahoma. He had always been such a jolly, healthy, strong all-

American lad, maybe 19 years old. He always had a smile. I found him sitting in the

bottom of a large shell hole. He had been shot in his helmet, suffering wounds in his

head and neck. He was crying and was holding his canteen in both hands, squeezing it

and stating, “If I could only get my hands on them”. While still aboard ship, he was

always making the statement, “I can’t wait to get at them”. He didn’t get much of a

chance, for he was evacuated and sent back to Guam. There could have been a little

combat fatigue mixed in with this or he might have been returned to the front lines later.

He received a Purple Heart.

5

A short time later, we discovered Andy Latsko was missing. Andy was about 32-

34 years old and much too old to be in a rifle company. He had joined our company just

before Iwo. Both he and Stanley were carrying machine gun ammo. I found him at the

bottom of a large shell hole. He was shaking and wouldn’t talk. I immediately knew he

was finished and left him there, never seeing him again. I don’t think he was ever

wounded before being evacuated from the island. At this particular time I became a

squad leader ammunition carrier. Fear took its toll during this entire campaign.

As we neared the No. 2 airfield, we were on much higher ground. There were

two Marines, not ours, who were firing a heavy 30-caliber water-cooled machine gun

about 20 feet to my right front. They were firing in the direction of the No. 2 airfield but

I could never determine if they had a particular target or were just firing. They had fired

many rounds of ammo by the number of empty cartridges on the ground. I was lying on

a small ledge looking towards the airfield. Below me was sort of a pocket that had

accumulated several Marines, but none of our men, who were still moving forward in my

direction.

Just then, we were hit with a terrific barrage of 240-mm mortars. One of these

exploded not more than 6-8 feet from my head. I was blown through the air and

somehow landed on my feet a good distance away. What a strange feeling! The shrapnel

from this one round must have taken the path of least resistance which was a downward

direction, cutting the top of one Marine’s head off. Another had a gigantic hole in his

kidney area and a lieutenant’s knee was full of shrapnel with blood oozing out each time

he moved. During this barrage I once saw something blown 15 feet or so into the air, sort

of fluttering. I was so temporarily stunned by the blast that I hardly realized it was a

Marine’s body blown that high. One member of my squad who was back behind at the

time said a foot landed by him. This was tough going.

6

The wounded lieutenant asked if he could have my first-aid bandage for his knee

but I told him I had to go on and might need it myself. He said he had used his on

someone else. He was going to the rear for sure and I was going the opposite way. I

never saw the two machine gunners who had been firing. I just imagine that they were

casualties like the others who were there.

I was sort of hurt and shaken up, but I did manage to recover after a few minutes.

We had finally reached the edge of the airfield after moving through the 21st Marine

Regiment. Actually, I didn’t see any of the 21st other than those few mentioned before

the barrage. It was like a miracle that the remainder of our machine gun section was still

together after experiencing so much firing and shelling to get there.

There were tanks accompanying us at the airfield. It seemed that each time one

ventured on to the strip, anti-tank guns firing from concealed positions would disable it

immediately. At one time, there were more than a half dozen knocked out of action.

Our company was able to make its dash across the airfield. This is where we lost

our company commander, 1st Lieutenant Jim Bowling, along with many others. He was

wounded twice. What a loss! We loved the guy, for he was a great leader and he was

behind the enlisted man 100%. When a few of us returned to the States in late April

1945, we stopped over at Pearl Harbor and Bowling came aboard to greet us as soon as

our ship docked. He still had one arm in a sling after being hospitalized there.

During all this time, we had complete air superiority, all kinds of artillery

batteries, naval gunfire and even rockets. The only problem was, no one could determine

just where the enemy fire was coming from.

Just beyond the No. 2 airfield we ran into one of the main enemy strong points.

They could shoot at you from the front, rear, and both sides from small slots in concrete

pillboxes that were not visible unless you were very close to any of them. Some groups

from our company took a terrible beating, suffering many casualties. The Japs being so

7

protected by concrete pillboxes, mortar and artillery fire could be used on us without

damage to themselves.

We finally moved forward about 300-400 yards and established our company

front line. There was no one on our left flank. This group was still held up back at the

airfield. About 300-400 yards to our front were five large coastal or anti-aircraft guns.

They were evidently out of action, we hoped, for their barrels were all pointed in our

direction.

Soon we started seeing all kinds of Jap movement around these gun

emplacements. Bob Poole and I decided to use our machine gun. He was firing and I

was using field glasses (binoculars), directing his fire by telling him “up two mills”,

“right two mills” etc. Our tracers were hitting right where we wanted and were surely

causing casualties.

We had only fired a short time, like maybe 100 rounds, when suddenly we were

hit with a terrific barrage of 240-mm mortars. Being in our foxholes, none of us were hit

by shrapnel, but the blasts covered us with flying ash and dirt. LeBlanc yelled over from

the next foxhole, “You crazy guys - Shut that machine gun off!” We already had. He

had been saving a piece of cheese from one of his rations and then had to throw it away

because it was so badly damaged. He claimed he was saving it for diarrhea. We had a

big laugh even at this time.

The Japs seemed to have positions on the island pinpointed where they could fire

a few rounds from mortars and artillery and hit almost exactly where they wanted. This

was the second time during this first day such a barrage hit right on and around us. After

firing, the Japs would move back into caves or other hidden areas out of view from our

airplane spotters and observers.

On the morning of Feb. 26th, we received word to mark our front lines with smoke

grenades. Then heavy cruisers lying offshore would deliver a 20-minute barrage from

8

their 8” guns. This would be followed by an air strike, bombing and strafing. Following

these shelling and bombings, we were to move out into the attack. It was quite an

experience having the cruisers firing so close to our front lines. What a pounding these

exploding shells could deliver. Even we were shaken up and didn’t think anyone could

survive such a shelling.

Following this came planes from an aircraft carrier delivering their punch, which

seemed so effective. Then it was our turn to move forward. Just as soon as our attack

began, we were hit with every weapon that the enemy possessed. We soon discovered

that the Japs simply had retreated to their underground shelters and would ride-out such a

shelling, bombing and strafing and then ‘pop up’ right back into action. Even so

protected while underground, they must have been shell-shocked. We had to stay put this

day, for any movement was met by deadly accurate rifle and machine gun fire plus

mortar and artillery barrages.

An unusual incident occurred that night. Bob Poole and I, plus one other, were in

our foxhole. Here, as in past campaigns, we’d have one on watch and two sleeping in

each hole, which seemed to always be too small. We’d say, “The next one will be

bigger“, but it too was always too small, every time. I was on watch when I noticed a

silhouette of a man in front of us. There were gunboats using search lights and were

shelling the western coastal area of the island with 40-mm pom-pom guns. I had a clear

view of the figure since it was between the lights and myself.

After analyzing the situation briefly, I woke Poole. We had a machine gun ready

to use, but we didn’t want to give away our position unless necessary. I told him I’d

count to three and we’d each fire one round from our carbines at the figure about 35

yards away. We fired, the silhouette flopped over, and then in a few seconds reappeared

in the same place. Thinking maybe we had missed, even though we could see our sights

on our rifles, we repeated our former action and the object collapsed. In a few seconds it

reappeared again. By now we were becoming suspicious and began looking around. We

spotted a Jap crawling within 25 feet in front of us. Poole immediately fired 3 quick

9

shots from his carbine. We never saw any more movement or the former silhouette. The

next morning whoever was crawling toward our foxhole had disappeared, probably

wounded. The Japs didn’t want us to know when they had casualties and would often

remove their dead or wounded when possible.

On Feb. 27, another day on the front lines and my 22nd birthday. What a way to

celebrate it. It all started with a bang, and a big one. Just like the previous morning we

received the word that following another 20 minute shelling by heavy cruisers followed

by an air strike, we’d move out into the attack. But, just like the day before, after making

such an attempt, we again were met by murderous fire of all kinds. We remained in our

positions still facing the ridge with the five big gun emplacements.

We each had started out carrying two canteens of water on Feb. 24th. We were

now rationing our supply, for it was suicide to attempt going to the rear for it and

impossible to bring any to us. We had a light shower during the day. We tried splitting a

plastic cover used to keep the volcanic ash out of the operating mechanism of our rifles

and then attempted catching and draining rainwater into a canteen cup. What little water

we did catch was yellow colored from the sulphur on the plastic. We didn’t drink it.

Iwo Jima was sometimes referred to as Sulphur Island and even had sulphur

mines starting in the area we now occupied. At this time we began to learn there wasn’t

going to be water for brushing our teeth or washing. This remained true until the island

was secured weeks later. Our skin already had a yellow cast from having taken Atabrine

tablets for the last 2 years for malaria. This, plus the sulphur color accumulating on our

face, hands, and clothing, tended to make us well camouflaged and to blend in with the

terrain. Actually all this was to our advantage by not having a shiny face or clean

clothing to make us stand out as a good target.

Being in a rifle company we had no access to radios, but we heard while aboard

ships of Tokyo Rose’s propaganda broadcasts to the troops in the Pacific. She

10

supposedly stated that the Marines didn’t need to bring their combat jackets to Iwo Jima

because they would get a warm welcome upon their arrival.

It so happened that while we were back on Guadalcanal following the

Bougainville Campaign, we were issued Eisenhower type combat jackets. We surely did

not need them at that time. Bill Nuess, from the 60-mm mortar platoon of our company,

was a good artist. Somehow he managed to find the material for making two stencils and

then painted large Marine emblems on the backs of a few of our jackets. We didn’t take

these with us to the Guam campaign but they did arrive later in our sea bags. Nuess was

killed on the beach during our landing there on Guam. I’ll always remember him.

After landing on Iwo, I never had my combat jacket off during the entire

campaign. It was always windy and very cool. I often wondered if this large emblem

wouldn’t make a good target, but we usually carried a pack on our backs, covering it.

We wore these jackets for warmth and just beyond the No. 2 airfield we

experienced something new. After digging a foxhole a couple feet deep we found the

earth to be hot in this volcanic area. After awhile it would nearly blister you if you

stayed in contact too long. We were continually shoveling dry dirt from outside our

foxholes and putting it underneath us. We had one asbestos glove used for carrying the

machine gun if it was too hot after firing. This glove worked well under your hip when

you weren’t on watch and were sleeping. We had no problem keeping warm in this area

as long as we were in a foxhole. As we later advanced to the north end we were on

higher ground and didn’t have this warm earth.

Still on Feb 27, on several occasions I used my carbine when firing at the enemy.

Anything over 200 yards away, I felt like I had just as well be throwing rocks. I also

discovered that this rifle would malfunction due to the volcanic ash. After firing a round

I had to work the bolt manually to put another round into the chamber.

11

The carbine had a 16-round magazine and would ordinarily fire as rapidly as you

could pull the trigger. I switched to an M1 rifle. It was semi-automatic like the carbine

but with an 8-round clip. It was a very dependable rifle with a range up to 500 yards or

more. I kept this rifle throughout the entire campaign.

Every evening, about dusk, we would see the red streaks from mortars being fired

into the sky from the northern area of the island. Since our planes were gone for the

night, now the Jap mortars could have their field day. These red streaks forewarned us of

the incoming barrage and we dreaded them. During this night Bob Poole was shot

through his upper arm. I didn’t know it until next morning and have often wondered how

he ever managed to reach an aid station during the night. He was evacuated and was

back on Guam when we returned there. He didn’t get his Purple Heart until 50 years later

at a special ceremony at his home in Tennessee.

On Feb. 28 we were to pull back from our lines during a heavy barrage by our

artillery. I never knew whether another group was relieving us or not, but after pulling

back we began our movement to the right. During this time we moved through the area

where part of our company had been hit so hard. I could see what they had been up

against. There were concrete pillboxes everywhere. We advanced on ahead through the

sulphur mine area and Motoyama village, which was nonexistent, and on in the direction

of the No. 3 airfield. It was during this change of position that we turned in our machine

gun and became only riflemen since there were only 3 of us left from my squad.

During this day the going had been easier. As we were advancing, there was a

tremendous explosion right next to us. Shells were flying and exploding in the air. We

assumed that one of their underground ammunition dumps had exploded. The Japs may

have set it off intentionally to try and injure us or maybe to keep it from falling into our

possession. I don’t know what we would have wanted with it. After investigating this

area I discovered a very unusual Jap rifle under some rocks. It had a bright yellow stock

and was smaller in size than their usual 25 and 30 caliber rifles. Ordinarily we paid no

12

attention to collecting any souvenirs, but I did pick this rifle up and was later able to give

it to Willard Diveley in our company headquarters command post.

Diveley couldn’t cope with front line duty. He was supposed to be in a machine

gun squad. During all our campaigns he would stay with our company command post,

serving as a runner, carrier or wherever else needed and did an excellent job. He was

braver performing some of the duties on Iwo than most of us would have been had we

been doing the same. Following the war, he was still experiencing serious problems with

his nerves. Once, by Government request, I wrote a letter enabling him to receive a

service-connected disability pension.

There were so many cases similar where someone was wounded mentally, so to

speak. Like one of my best friends in service, Russell Hanisch, from Chicago. He was

captain-elect of Austin High School football ball team, the largest school in the city at

that time. He joined the Marine Corps when a junior and we were in the same platoon in

boot camp in Jan. 1942. Russell more or less ‘cracked-up’ or had combat fatigue on

Guam after the regular campaign, during our 10-day sweep of the island. At the time, we

were receiving point-blank fire from concealed tanks where it happened and he never

completely recovered afterwards. These types of cases occurred so often and often had

an effect on an individual in later life.

On Mar. 1 we ran into more than our match. Another strong point loomed ahead.

We spent much time moving here and there trying to figure it out. There was one open

area I and others had to cross numerous times. Every time someone crossed it, he was

fired at. Several of our men had been hit. I once saw a corpsman, a Navy medic, go to

one wounded in this opening and he wasn’t hit himself. What nerve and luck.

In a small ravine, I was against the bank on one side using my field glasses trying

to locate where the firing was coming from. Shortly after, Sgt. Nanni, who joined our

company just before Iwo, came up and knelt close to me asking if I could see anything. I

told him to "“Move in closer to the bank” because “they were firing through here.” He

13

wasn’t a foot from me as I just finished my words when he was shot in the back of his

helmet, the bullet emerging out his right ear, tearing it up badly. He grasped hold of my

arm so hard with both hands I was sure it was a death grip. In a few seconds he opened

his eyes. A corpsman on the other side of the ravine asked if Nanni could get over there.

Surprisingly, he was able to scamper across on his hands and feet to the other side. I

never saw him again. He was killed on Iwo, whether from this terrible wound or from

something else during his evacuation.

After failing to spot any firing positions, I crossed the ravine and then the opening

to another area. Here there was a small stone structure like a shrine. It was round, about

6-7 feet in diameter, and about 7 foot tall with an opening for entering on one side. At

that time this seemed to be the safest place around. I went inside and saw Joe Paciga,

(We called him ‘the mad Russian’) sitting on a bench on one side cleaning his M1 rifle

using a toothbrush. There were two others sitting beside him. He was laughing and

joking like he always did. He was tall in stature and was lots of fun. One would never

have known he was in combat at that time. I left there to check another area.

A little later I saw my good buddy, LeBlanc. He said, “I owe my life to you.” I

asked why. He told me he had been inside the shrine and had just left it looking for me

when it blew ‘sky high’. Paciga was killed along with a few others. We never knew

whether it was artillery, mortar, landmine, booby trap or what. This is how it was – a

game of seconds, minutes, inches, feet, etc.

We somehow managed to establish our front line and we dug in. We had suffered

numerous casualties here, and it was surprising there weren’t more due to all the small

arms fire directed toward us. We could never determine where it was coming from

either.

When Mar. 2 rolled around, some of the ‘Top Brass’ somewhere way, way back

to the rear were evidently getting overly anxious and wanted us to move forward.

Despite a heavy, and I mean heavy, artillery barrage delivered by our batteries along our

14

front it was still impossible to move forward again following it. We were again hit by

what seemed like everything the Japs had. It would have been a complete suicide

movement for us. So we stayed put for this day.

Later in the day I saw a man accompanied by a radio operator jump into the

foxhole next to ours. It was our battalion commander, Lt. Col. Carey Randall. We all

thought so highly of his leadership. I could hear the conversation between him and the

voice on the walkie-talkie. The voice coming over the radio was disturbed because we

hadn’t moved forward in the attack. Randall’s reply was we’re too short on personnel,

had too many casualties, and that it would be suicide trying to advance at this time. The

reply came back over the radio, “Of course you’re going to have casualties. This is war.

Move out.” These are the exact words I heard and I’ll never forget them. I think the

voice came from our regimental commander, Col. Red Kenyon. We all loved Randall,

but hated Kenyon. He was far, far below our previous regimental commanders, Col.

Sheppard and Col. Craig. They were both great leaders. Col. Kenyon was one of those,

whatever you want to call them, men who were only interested in making another rank

with no regard for his men. Lt. Col. Randall was relieved of his command as a result of

not sending us on ahead on a suicide mission. He still ended up as a two-star Major

General in the Marine Corps.

Randall attends all our company reunions in Canton, OH. I once asked him about

the above incident, telling him I was surprised that he was able to get to our front line

without being hit and how he managed to get out of there, the same being true. He told

me that after leaving our front, his canteen was hit and he had some bits of shrapnel from

it in his hip.

Mar. 3 had arrived, and here we were still in the same position. We received

orders that we were to pull back. I knew this would be difficult, for any movement

would draw accurate fire. Even though we’d never been able to detect where the firing

was coming from, I told Clifford Saladin and Dale Danielson I would try to cover them

as they dashed to the rear. Saladin moved out first and there were shots fired, but I saw

15

nothing to fire on. Danielson left next and I heard more shots. I had no opportunity to

return fire for I could not see any sign of enemy firing. Then I left and after running

about 25 yards I saw Saladin lying face down. I dropped down next to him and noticed a

bullet had hit him squarely in the back of his helmet. I checked him and it appeared he

had been killed instantly. I had to leave him. There was nothing else I could do at that

time. Clifford was about 19 or 20 and Danielson was about the same age. They called

me the ‘old man’ because I had just turned 22. Here in just a couple days were two men

from our company, shot in the back of their helmets. I’ve often wondered whether the

Japs were really that good as marksmen.

Just a few days earlier on Feb. 28 as we were changing positions, I caught a

glimpse of Sergeant Eldridge standing and shouting some words of encouragement to

some of his men in our company command post. I thought at that time how foolish.

Later I heard at that same time he was shot in his neck, dying instantly. You just didn’t

stand up on Iwo and live.

Starting on Mar. 4 until Mar. 8, we were here and there. I don’t exactly know just

where, but we were in numerous different positions. One day we were over by the

unfinished No. 3 airfield. While running along the side of its runway, the Japs were

firing their giant rockets or ‘the screamers’ as we called them. These were passing just

over our heads and the sparks from the launches were falling on us. All at once, I saw a

giant ball of fire and an explosion 50-75 yards to my right on the airstrip. The

concussion, as tremendous as it was, somehow didn’t blow me off my feet, but it stopped

me cold and completely stunned me. I actually felt like I was paralyzed and I couldn’t

move. I eventually just toppled over headfirst into a shell hole. I didn’t recover until I

heard Danielson, who was right behind me, calling, “Where’s Gadbury?” These words

brought me back to my senses, so I climbed out of the hole and took off ahead.

Danielson told me that one of the rockets fell short after its takeoff. They all saw it and

had already hit the deck before it exploded. I wished I had seen the short round, but was

focused on what was ahead at that particular time and missed seeing it as such.

16

Afterwards I kept thinking something was wrong with my legs. Two different

times I checked, but found nothing but a chunk of flesh stuck to my pant leg. Not

pleasant to think about, but that’s the way it was.

Irvin Albert, who was already in our company, had joined Dale Danielson and

me. That evening as we dug in for the night, several tanks pulled in behind us. We

usually avoided them like the plague, for they drew too much enemy fire. The Japs

feared our tanks not only because of their 75-mm guns but some were flame throwing

tanks. We needed the tanks badly but didn’t care about being very close to them because

of the artillery, mortar and anti-tank gunfire they attracted. Unless we were below

ground level, we would be dealt an unmerciful beating when they were fired upon.

That evening about dusk, as usual we began seeing the red streaks rising into the

sky. With the tanks right behind our lines we figured they were the Japs’ target. We

didn’t have long to wait and soon felt most of the blasts falling on us rather than the

tanks. Some exploded very close to our foxhole, which was about 2 feet deep. Believe

me, we were hugging its bottom.

During daylight hours, our forces used several types of planes. Along with

fighters and dive-bombers, both used for bombing and strafing, there were scout planes

from battleships. These were small seaplanes that were catapulted from their home ships.

We called these spotter planes ‘grass hoppers’ and once saw one of them shot down close

to us and the pilot parachuting. I never heard where he landed. Another time a

Grumman Avenger was flying very low and slow right in front of us when we heard an

almost simultaneous “Bang! Bang!” It was hit and flew only a short distance and

crashed. This type of plane usually carried a three-man crew.

All these planes would be gone from the air by evening, but we still had our

artillery support. I have no idea how many batteries there were on Iwo. Sometimes we’d

hear them firing so many rounds toward our front that it would sound like a machine gun,

only louder. This very evening, like so many others, it didn’t take our artillery batteries

17

long to locate the area where enemy mortar fire was coming from. As long as our

batteries had the range and we experienced no short rounds, these volleys from their guns

were wonderful music to our ears. We loved our 155-mm Howitzers. These really

packed a wallop. Our 105-mm and 75-mm Howitzers were also very effective. Once

they began their firing, the noise from so many shells passing overhead was hard to

believe. It sounded like the sky was being torn apart. The incoming mortar barrage came

to a sudden stop.

During Mar. 5, 6, and maybe 7, we found ourselves at a different location. As I

said, we were here and there and I don’t know exactly where. In a new location and after

establishing our line of defense, we again soon discovered when you left yourself open

for a second you would draw enemy fire. There were already a few dead Marines nearby.

They could have been from our company or battalion, but it had been and still was

impossible to retrieve their bodies.

While at this position, one evening we received word that hot chow was available,

believe it or not, if we came to get it at our company command post. Our head cook Clint

McCaslin, was really a pro when it came to rounding up food and he had two very able

assistants in Al Miccli and George Ismiel. It was going to be almost like a suicide trip

going to the rear and then returning with the meal.

We would often draw straws to determine who would do so and so. I don’t recall

whether we did or not. If we did, I lost for I went after chow and brought back food for

three all in my steel helmet. Everything, from whatever kind of meat, vegetables,

peaches, etc, was all in the same helmet and we shared and relished it. This was the only

time we received such a meal.

It seemed we had almost continuous artillery fire from our batteries passing over

us. The sky above was noisy with so many rounds going by. I saw one shell that looked

like a 105-mm, hit and go swishing past us end over end on the ground. It ended up in a

horizontal position spinning like a top about 25 yards from us. It was a dud.

18

The next day we again received word that the Red Cross had donuts available at

the rear if we came after them. Who had ever heard of such a thing, but it was true this

time. One of us took the chance and luckily was able to return safely and we had donuts

right in the middle of combat. Again, how unusual, and it was the only time. There were

so many thousands of men back at the rear, so we heard, I don’t know how anything ever

reached us. We were so few and far between and it was becoming worse each day.

It may have been on this same day that I received a slight injury. I heard a piece

of shrapnel coming through the air and “Lo and Behold” if it didn’t hit the toe of my

right foot almost cutting through the leather. This piece was about an inch square and it

possibly broke one of my toes. I was able to maneuver with some pain for a few days but

soon forgot about it.

After being here for a couple days about Mar. 7th we were finally able to move

forward into the general area where we had been previously. As I stated I never knew

exactly where we’d been the last three days, but once again we were facing an

impenetrable enemy defense. Just like in past, following an artillery barrage delivered by

our guns any attempt to move forward was met by murderous fire. This was one tough

spot. Again we could not determine where firing was coming from. We had to stay put

or die.

On the morning of Mar. 8th our top brass decided we would make a night attack

just before daylight. Some of these ‘top dogs’ were always looking for a way to put

another feather in their caps and show what shrewd leaders they were and maybe even be

advanced one rank by such strategy.

From my own personal opinion, there was very poor planning put into the

scheme. We were so thin in experienced personnel. Our company had received a few

‘green’ replacements. What a time for them to be thrown into the ‘meat grinder’. Oh,

how we could have used our “Crack” 3rd Regiment at this time, a highly trained

19

experienced unit. I heard that our 3rd Division commander General Erskine wanted to

throw them into the battle but General ‘Howling Mad’ Smith wanted to save this

regiment for the Japan invasion at a later date. The word was, even though the two had

been good friends before, they were not after this disagreement.

During the so-called night attack, we moved forward unchallenged in the dark.

The enemy must have been sleeping in. After daylight it was discovered some units had

advanced farther than others. There had really been a mix up. B and F Companies were

nearly wiped out after being cut off. In the History of the Ninth Marines it was

mentioned that C Company, our company, had 44 casualties out of 54 men during this

operation and had to pull back.

Some of us didn’t get the word, and were left alone in three foxholes for two days.

No one on our left or right. We held our ground. Early that morning following the night

attack, we saw four Marines off to our right carrying one wounded on a poncho. This

was probably the remnant of their original group. I thought it might have been guys from

B Company. We didn’t talk to them.

I missed the machine gun that was turned in over a week before for we were

vulnerable in such a spot as we now occupied. Fortunately it was not needed. We had

our rifles and plenty of ammunition plus hand grenades. Here we remained for the rest of

that day and night and the next day. We were in and out of our foxholes from time to

time but very carefully.

Then on that evening of Mar. 9th we heard and saw two of our tanks moving

forward on our left flank. There were 20-30 Marines following the tanks. I thought at

that time it was G Company, probably with new replacements, but I wasn’t sure. We

heard a few bullets striking some of the men and heard the call for ‘Corpsman’. Shortly

after it sounded like 20-mm guns firing at the two tanks. There could have been some

large caliber anti-tank guns too, like 57-mm. Both tanks were knocked out of action

immediately. They never had a chance to fire one shot. One was on fire and all its

20

occupants bailed out the top hatch seemingly unhurt. The other tank didn’t burn and I

didn’t see anyone use the top hatch. They weren’t more than 50 yards from us. Both

tanks remained right there where they were knocked out of action. The men

accompanying the tanks turned and ran for their lives to the rear. We were left all alone

again. Nine of us in three foxholes were holding our position.

On Mar 10th I don’t recall how but we received word or a signal to pull back. I

actually don’t believe there were very many more than us left of the original front liners

in our company. There were several others in our company command post, like the

mortar men, cooks, clerks, etc. But we were lucky to get out of the predicament.

After pulling back to the rear we were in reserve and I took the opportunity to

clean my rifle. I left a little extra oil on it purposely intending to wipe it off later. We

had been around this particular area for the last 8-10 days and had been attacking in an

easterly direction. We received word that we were going to circle this particular strong

pocket that had held us up for so long. Our leaders had given up trying to take it head on

from its Western side. Remember this was where Lt. Col. Randall was relieved of

command of our 1st Battalion. The plan was to launch one attack from the opposite or

back side of the pocket.

We were in the process of making the circle. My group was in reserve. A few

members of our company were engaged in considerable action just ahead of us. While

moving to the front, I remember seeing Leslie Farmer being carried out on a stretcher to

the rear. He had been wounded several days earlier but refused to be evacuated. This

time he had no choice for he was down and almost out, having been shot through his

upper body. I always respected his toughness for not turning in as a casualty after his

first wound. Leslie survived but I wouldn’t have given him much of a chance after

seeing him for the last time.

During our movement I could see about a half dozen Japs in some type of open

gun pit on a hill. Below them I could see three of our Marines who then threw White

21

phosphorous grenades up and into the pit. When the grenades exploded, throwing

burning phosphorous in all directions, the Japs left like scared rabbits. I’m sure they

received many bad burns or worse injuries.

Our James Allhouse was one of these Marines and he received the Silver Star for

this deed. I don’t know about the other two. They probably received nothing, which was

the usual procedure.

Later that evening we were ‘digging in’ on our line of defense. Danielson, Albert

and I kept hitting wood about a foot deep in our foxhole and couldn’t figure it out. After

looking around we could see a few square posts about three feet tall with some Japanese

writing and we decided we must be digging in a cemetery and were hitting a casket. Not

wanting any part of this, we moved back onto higher ground and began anew. By this

time it was getting dark. I was digging when Albert remarked, “Who is that out there?” I

immediately said, “Give me my rifle.” Three Marines in the foxhole next to ours were

fixing something to eat or were already eating their supper. They had no idea that they

had company at their front door. I challenged the three strangers and they sort of

stooped, saying nothing. Once again, I said, “Who’s there?” and they broke to run.

Following my first rifle shot, oil flew into my eyes from the operating mechanism. I

hadn’t had a chance to wipe off the excess yet. I was only temporarily slightly blinded

and emptied the clip (seven more rapid shots) dropping two of the three. I don’t know

about the third.

Meanwhile in the next foxhole one of them raised up and fired once and then they

continued eating their supper as if nothing ever happened. I don’t believe our guys would

have been willing to share their food with their enemy. After analyzing what had

occurred, I think the three Japs were planning to toss hand grenades into that foxhole.

We finished our digging, too small as usual, and settled for the night with one on watch

and two sleeping. For pillows we wore our helmets and always used two clods of dirt or

two rocks to keep it from rolling around. It was comfortable.

22

On Mar. 11 we had moved well on the back side of the pocket that we had battled

for so long. Now we were facing the west, the exact opposite of a couple of days earlier.

It was during this time that I saw Sandy Stiverson, also from Monticello, IL. We went

through boot camp in the same platoon and afterwards he was sent to B Company and I

to C Company, 9th Marines.

Sandy was supply sergeant in his company. At this meeting he had five M1 rifles

slung on his shoulders. This was our only meeting on Iwo even though our companies

were most always close to each other. I asked him, “What’s up?” He was swearing

plenty and told me that some new replacements in his company had retreated from a ‘hot

situation’ and had left their rifles behind taking the trigger mechanisms out of each with

them. This is almost unimaginable. A true Marine would never leave his rifle behind.

These were green replacements that should never have been thrown into such a battle. It

was like leading the lambs to slaughter. What a mess and a terrible mistake trying to use

those new men, when again, the seasoned, experienced ‘Crack’ Third Marine Regiment

was lying offshore and was never used on Iwo.

Once on the same day while moving towards the pocket I heard what I thought to

be a replacement Sergeant tell one of his replacements to go over to a certain place. He

told the Sergeant, “You do it, you’re getting paid more than I am.” This is exactly what I

heard, as we were passing by that group. This may have been how it was towards the

end, but I never observed anything like this in our company. B Company was mostly all

replacements. I doubt whether there was more than a dozen left from its original

members and maybe even fewer at this time.

Mar. 12. This particular area had been a tough one. I had taken a bullet in the top

of my pack while establishing our line of defense. I still often wonder how it was

possible to dig so many foxholes without being hit more often. We dug our hole on a

little ridge. In front of us, less than 100 yards, was the beginning of the strong pocket of

resistance.

23

The terrain was very rough and nearly impossible for tanks to maneuver.

Bulldozer tanks were brought up to try and clear the way for the regular ones. Our

regular tanks had a 75-mm gun plus machine guns, but we also had a few flame throwing

tanks. These presented the most serious problem for the Japs.

Mar. 13. During this day we had been exchanging some rifle fire with the Japs.

We only fired if we had a target and never wasted our ammunition. I had the front sight

shot off my rifle. I only had to go behind our foxhole and pick up an abandoned M1 rifle

and took off its gas chamber, which was also part of the front sight. I had some difficulty

getting it to fit my rifle and had to force it because of some damage to mine. It worked

fine afterwards.

Some of our new canned C Rations were very good, and we were always on the

lookout for certain kinds if we happened to find any. In the canned dry C Ration there

were three biscuits, three cubes of sugar and a can of instant coffee. We didn’t like this

kind of coffee but preferred the coffee found in K Rations. This soluble coffee was in

cellophane packages and I had accumulated several, keeping them in the top of my pack.

We had no problems on the night of the 13th, other than our cramped quarters.

We had received no orders about moving toward the pocket to our front. We were

completely on the reverse side of the pocket that had held us up for so long.

Next morning, since we were holding our position, we decided to brew some

coffee and maybe eat a bite of breakfast from whatever we had. It was then I discovered

that the bullet hitting my pack had destroyed all my soluble coffee but one package.

We’d heat a package of instant coffee plus water in a little C Ration can, with a heat tab,

adding 3 cubes of sugar. The result was a very strong, sweet coffee.

I was heating a can in the front of our foxhole while Danielson and Albert both

reached up for something in their packs. I said these very words; “You guys had better

get down. Its too late in the game to be taking any chances.” As I uttered these very

24

words, the most distressful thing that could happen occurred. Dale Danielson (we

always called him Junior, even though he was 6’2” and 200 lb., because he looked so

young) fell backwards on top of me. The only words he said were, “I’m dying,

Gadbury.” It was over that quick. The bullet had hit him in the middle of his upper back.

What a brave, courageous Marine.

I immediately got hold of a corpsman. We dug out the back of our foxhole so we

could slide him out into a depression behind us, out of view from Jap snipers. The

corpsman tried his best but it was already over. The last of my squad. How sad, then and

now, 55 years later. At one time I corresponded with his mother in LaFayette, Indiana

and Randall Hackenberg’s mother in Lawton Mich.

Dale Danielson and Clifford Saladin, like all the others who gave their lives, laid

it all-out on the line everyday and asked no favors. These, like all the others, could have

been killed dozens of times if something had happened at just the exact time or place.

There are so many ‘ifs’ it is too bewildering thinking what could have been or not have

been. A second here or an inch there meant whether it did or didn't happen.

As depressed as I might have been, I still had enough sense of self-preservation

not to do anything foolish. A colonel’s barber had joined us from a rear echelon. All

Marines are riflemen first and foremost and then maybe a clerk, cook, barber, etc. Many

of these had joined our front lines volunteering to do so.

The barber and I moved over to our right out of our foxholes to a higher elevation.

From here we could see some of the action over the ridge in front of us. The Japs were

peering over this ridge using periscopes, which were about two feet tall. We had many

good targets including the scopes and we didn’t miss often, firing at 100 yards or a little

more. He and I spent most of the rest of that day and part of the next sniping. We also

received return fire.

25

On Mar. 15 we saw a flame thrower tank move into that enemy pocket right in

front of us and was shooting a stream of flame 50, 75 or more yards out of its barrel. The

Japs were rightfully afraid of flame throwers, man-carried or tank, and would do almost

anything to stop them. If they couldn’t retreat far into their caves and tunnels they didn’t

stand a chance of surviving. Our group never moved into that pocket but we moved to

another area on this day.

There were many Japanese tanks on Iwo, but they were all dug in, camouflaged

and well concealed. This night as we set our lines up we had a ‘dug-in’ enemy tank right

behind our foxhole. We could only hope it was completely disabled and that it would

stay that way. At times the Japs would fire over our position hitting the tank. These

machine gun bullets striking the tank would sound exactly like the tank was firing. We

weren’t too sure at times whether it was or not, and our complete attention was focused

there.

While at this location I was once running and returning to our foxhole. Just

before reaching it I tripped over some Japs communication lines and tumbled into our

hole. At this very time machine gunfire was hitting the dug-in tank. One of my buddies

asked where I was hit. I wasn’t. I felt bad, for I had bumped one of his arms during my

fall. It hurt him, but after a few minutes the pain ceased.

Around Mar. 16, ‘scuttlebutt’ reached us that the Island was secured. We were

very frustrated upon hearing this. Maybe secured to someone, but the farthest thing from

being secured as to our way of thinking. I later learned that ‘secured’ meant it was fairly

certain we wouldn’t be thrown off the island and defeated. Upon hearing this the folks

back home assumed everyone was now safe and sound. Nothing could have been further

from the truth for we had all kinds of casualties after this announcement was made

public.

We also heard there were 50,000 American troops on Iwo at this time. It takes

many people to run an operation in the rear echelons like the hospitals and air stations,

26

working battalions, artillery crews, communication men, intelligence groups, P51 pilots

and their crews, every type of headquarter and the list could go on and on. On the front

lines our troops were few and far between.

On Mar 16 or 17th after we had set up our perimeter defense, we were told we

could go for a shower at the south end of the island, a few at a time. All this time we had

worn the same clothes, never brushed our teeth, washed our hands or combed our hair.

We never had any extra water other than for drinking for we were always on the front

lines.

For showers the Seabees had dug a deep hole down to the water level. This was

done in the volcanic area and the water was hot. They pumped the water up into large

barrels and had rigged showers. It was water even if part salt and part sulphur water, but

it felt good. After showering we returned to our combat area and couldn’t stay awake for

we were so relaxed.

The navy Seabees, or navy Construction Battalions, had in their possession any

type of equipment needed, whether for building roads, airfields, unloading ships, etc.

They were skilled in doing their jobs and had the best equipment available. They were

under fire much of the time while performing their tasks. My ‘hat’s off’ to them.

George Ismiel, from Chicago, one of our company cooks, told me that after

observing us once as we passed by the Company command post, that the only way he

could recognize any of us was by our walk. I guess we all looked alike, dirty and

scroungy, but we blended in well with our surroundings.

On Mar. 17 we still had 21 days to spend on Iwo. For the next week or so we

were constantly called here and there to assist in skirmishes, even over in the 4th and 5th

Division areas. We were still having casualties even though the island was supposed to

be secured.

27

One good example involved our Quartermaster Sergeant, John Devine. John was

a corporal, but too often one performed a duty above his rank and never received the

promotion. This day he assisted with one of the skirmishes and caught a fatal bullet.

What a tough break. I really hated to hear this. John once received the Navy-Marine

Corps Medal for bravery while we were on Guadalcanal.

We were now beginning to get a better picture of how the Japs were defending the

island. While we were advancing towards the north end of the island we bypassed caves,

tunnels and fortifications that didn’t hold up during our attack. We never entered any of

these and sometimes had Japs behind us as well as in front. They could travel in their

tunnels and reappear most anywhere they chose. We tried to take ground and hold it,

leaving these to demolition crews. We seldom saw any of the enemy and it was very

difficult, if not impossible, to detect where he was firing from. Their General

Kuribayashi had used a most clever strategy in defending Iwo.

During the campaign we observed three unusual incidents back around the south

end of Iwo from our viewpoint on the northern end of the island. The first was a crippled

B29 bomber that had made one of the first emergency landings on the No. 1 airfield and

had overshot the north end of the landing strip. Since we were on higher ground we

could see the disabled bomber for several days. It looked so large sitting there. The No.

2 airfield would not have been safe at the time and wasn’t ready for planes anyway.

The second incident, also during early March, occurred when one of our

ammunition dumps blew up. The explosions lasted for several minutes. It seemed as if

the south end of the island was being destroyed. I saw this same thing happen once on

Guadalcanal when we were about ½ mile offshore unloading a ship. It sounded so

devastating one would have thought part of the island would be blown away. In each

case I was very relieved at being at a safe distance.

The third occurrence happened in late March or early April. One night the sky

was suddenly filled with tracers and exploding shells. We just assumed it to be a large air

28

attack by the Japanese. We later heard the whole story. A radio operator, not knowing

he was on the air live, was goofing around announcing that the war in Europe was over.

The excitement and revelry began as the false report was passed on. It took some time to

get all the firing stopped.

Dick Mills, a Marine, was in communications and had landed the 1st day on Iwo.

When all the excitement began, he said he was sitting outside when a bullet hit close to

his head. He said he jumped into his foxhole and stayed there. There were some

casualties as a result of all this merriment.

One day while over in the 5th Division area my patrol came upon a huge

blockhouse with walls of reinforced concrete at least four feet or more thick. By the

number of holes and chunks of concrete blown out, you could tell it had been hit many

times by shells, but it still appeared mainly whole. We did not try to enter it.

It is almost impossible to comprehend how much concrete had been used in

fortifying this island. Most of the gun emplacements had rounded reinforced roofs as

well as the sides. These were often covered with dirt to make them invisible from the air.

I saw some of these with large bomb or shell craters on each side that were still in

operation. Most if not all the pillboxes were made from concrete with slots for firing out

of and covered with dirt. Not only were the Japs masters at digging tunnels but also in

the use of concrete. Since fresh water was certainly at a premium on this island, I saw

numerous concrete cisterns with rather large concrete aprons to catch and drain water into

them. The ones I saw contained no water.

We didn’t know at the time when we encountered the large blockhouse that this

was part of the Japanese General Kuribayashi’s command post and communication

headquarters. A book recently stated the General also had a HQ’s room 75 feet below

ground in this very area. He was still there at that time, and well concealed.

29

After numerous days of skirmishes and patrols we moved into a bivouac area

about Mar. 26, establishing a perimeter defense. We were to spend the remaining time

using daily patrols and night ambushes.

I would take out a group of about twelve men every other night and set up for an

ambush. Machine gunners always caught this duty even though we hadn’t had a machine

gun for three weeks or more until now. For the ambush we’d go just before dark, as

quietly as possible, and I would try to pick a spot close to a cave I was familiar with.

Often at night we would hear the Japs digging and chiseling right under us. We always

had the feeling of being blown sky-high by some explosive device. I often think of how

vulnerable we might have been against a large attack group.

On one ambush, Brother Diveley was on watch. He woke me saying there were

“Japs out there”. I think he froze and would have done nothing. There in front of us at

20 to 25 yards distance, were 6-8 of them. They hadn’t discovered us yet. This night we

had a war dog and his handler with us in the hole next to ours. The old dog was still

sleeping and didn’t even let out a whimper.

Before setting up on this evening I told the machine gunners I’d stay in their hole

with them. One of them was Diveley. We’d been together for a long time off and on.

As I walked past the rear of their foxhole checking out our positions, Diveley was

readying and loading the machine gun. I stopped and asked him if he was sure the bolt

‘flew all the way home’. He said it did. He was trying to do so as quietly as possible.

With the Japs right in front of us I took over the machine gun and as I raised the

trigger to fire, nothing happened. My first thought was a ‘short round’ in the belt. I’d

seen this happen only once before. If this were true I’d have to go through all the

reloading procedure and that would alert the enemy. My next thought was my M1 rifle,

but I had all tracers in my eight round clip and was afraid of giving our position away.

So I threw a fragmentation grenade which exploded among them. Later, nothing was

30

happening, so after awhile I threw an illumination grenade, and to my dismay it set some

type of debris on fire and the area was lit up like daytime.

Very soon after this I heard a mortar shell coming down. It sounded as if it were

coming directly into our foxhole. About 100 feet or so above ground, it burst open and

out came a flare on a parachute. Back at our company, George Roseman, Carl

McFarland, Howard Jackson, Harold Brown to name a few from our 60-mm platoon

were on the job as usual and kept the flares coming. We experienced no attack, but if

there had been one, the flares would have helped. The rest of the night was calm. The

machine gun was now loaded and ready.

Next morning, after checking the area, it appeared as though one of the Japanese

had jumped on the grenade killing himself and saving his companions. After returning to

our company and conferring with a Colonel from Intelligence, I told him which cave I

thought the Japs had come from. Later that day an interpreter with a patrol encouraged

about a dozen or more to surrender from their cave and some of them had new wounds.

The days were spent patrolling and checking known caves. Most cave entrances

were in ravines and protected from all fire. We did not go into caves. The cave entrances

I saw were tall enough to walk into upright and usually went back 25-30 or more feet and

then branched off. Flame throwers couldn’t penetrate around corners with their burning

fuel mixture. If the Japs would not surrender to an interpreter the cave was blasted

closed.

One day on patrol we had an interpreter and a prisoner with us. By the way, the

Marines treated prisoners kindly; a ‘far cry’ from how one of us would have been treated

by the Japs. They wouldn’t have taken any. On this particular day the interpreter and the

prisoner were at the mouth of a cave and finally encouraged one of its occupants to

emerge. This Jap sat and talked to the others, smoking an American cigarette. Then the

Jap and our prisoner both entered the cave, supposedly to get others to surrender. We

heard one shot and the prisoner never came back out. Did one of his own shoot him or

31

did he commit what we called ‘honorable hara-kiri’? We then blasted this cave shut.

They would usually dig out by the next day.

By this time there were many P51 Mustang long-range fighter planes on the

Island. They could make the 600 plus mile flight to Japan and back escorting the B29s

flying from Guam, Saipan, and Tenian. I’m sure, to this day, I can still recognize the

sound of a P51 in flight. There were also numerous large planes carrying in supplies and

handling wounded. These airmen were on the prowl for souvenirs and had things to

trade. I recall one trade up on the north end of the Island. A jeep pulled up with two

airmen wanting souvenirs. One of our guys walked over to a ditch close by and picked

up a heavy Jap machine gun. The airman said, “Do you have a clip?” One of the guys

handed him one of his BAR clips, satisfying him and the deal was closed. We received a

quart of whiskey to share - a couple of drinks each – something different.

My next trade happened while some of us were over by the No. 2 airstrip

watching P51s landing. It was sort of nerve-wracking watching them for one never knew

how they’d end up. This was about the most excitement we could find at the time. These

pilots seemed to be young and reckless, but I guess they were the best at what they were

doing. While there, an airman approached us wanting a souvenir. He said he’d give a

leather sheep-lined jacket for one. I went down off to the side of the runway and picked

up an old beat-up Jap rifle and gave it to him. Lots of serviceman collected souvenirs and

often this is how they obtained them. We could never carry any with us and usually

didn’t pick up any.

A few days before we were to be relieved we were going to have the opportunity

to visit the 3rd Marine Division Cemetery. There were several thousand white crosses for

members of the 3rd, 4th, and 5th Marine Divisions. What a shame. It should never have

been like this, but once it got started there was no backing off. As for visiting the

cemetery, I just didn’t feel up to it at the time. I still feel very sad about how things

turned out.

32

According to Elmer Engel's daily reports written on Iwo, our C Company landed

with 206 men and 56 were killed in action. Murphy Estes, wounded in his shoulder on

Iwo, once sent me a list of the names of those KIA on Iwo and the date. He had 57

names listed. We lost 18 or more the first two days on Feb. 25 and 26. Out of our six

machine gun squads, both the No. 1 and No. 2 gunners were killed in five of these squads

during the battle. Several of these machine gunners were killed the first day, including

Randall Hackenberg who was my No. 1 gunner during the Guam campaign. He was hit

in his shoulder there on Guam as we were setting up our machine gun one time. Randall

(Hack as we called him) is carrying the machine gun behind me in the picture shown in

the book, History of the Ninth Marines.

Murphy Estes also sent me a partial listing of those in C Company who were

wounded and evacuated on Iwo. There were 83 names on the list, but I know of many

others who were wounded there and their names were not on the list. So I cannot state

how many casualties as a total figure. There were not many that came off the island

without a Purple Heart.

Many of the wounds were of a very serious type. The following is a list of some

of the guys who have attended our C Company reunions and the injuries they received on

Iwo Jima (incomplete listing):

Bill Kiser lost a leg

Austin Mosco lost a leg

Dwayne Shoneiman arm shot off plus shrapnel

Max Collins shot in hip and spending over 6 months in hospital

Lew Leming shot in neck

Jim DesJarlis shot in arm

Chuck Nicholson shot in hip

Bob Simmons shot in left arm

Chris Hansen shot in arm

Ed Bateman shrapnel in right leg

Charles Long shot in right shoulder

33

Milan Brickhouse shot in left leg

Bob Poole shot in the upper arm

Casmier Orlowski shot in hand

Robert Blaquiere shrapnel in back

Labon Burwell shot in stomach

Homer Cross shot in neck

Murphy Estes shot in right shoulder and arm

John Jackson 2 Purple Hearts

Keith Erps shot in neck

Gene Cochran shot in right shoulder

Some of the others receiving Purple Hearts on Iwo were: Geza “Hunky” Borath,

Bill Swanson, Tim Moynihan, Fred (Vinny) Vanaria, Charles Cherry, Al Miceli, Dale

Alderson, Hugh Cummings, and this list could go on and on.

Again, the above are names of some of those who have attended our C Company

reunions in Canton, Ohio.

Our company like other rifle companies on Iwo Jima received many medals –

Purple Hearts. Our company members received very few other medals. First of all, a

commissioned officer had to write the recommendation for an award and there were no

officers around where I was. As I mentioned earlier, I did see Lt. Colonel Randall once

briefly. He didn’t know I was even around at that time.

I’ve read about certain Army outfits receiving bronze stars for being in a combat

zone. Nothing ever happened like this in the Marine Corps. Such an award had to be

earned and was a great prize. They were not given out freely. If an officer did

recommend you for Silver Star, Bronze Star, etc., these were sometimes refused by

higher ups. Officers would recommend each other for medals and get them. I’ve heard

them say, “These medals are for our men.” What a joke. They had a chest full of medals

while the chests of “our (so called) men” were bare.

34

An officer once told me he had written me up for a Silver Star award. Something

happened along the way to the recommendation. The very same thing happened with

Bob Poole. The few who did receive a medal deserved the award.

On April 6 we returned to the South end of Iwo and bivouacked on the opposite

side of the Island from where we originally landed. Next day we boarded the U.S.S.

Randall which was to return us to Guam.

I would like to copy a few lines from the book, History of the Ninth Marines.

Once aboard, the grimy Marines, stained black and yellow by the volcanic ash

and sulphur of the island, took hot showers at the first opportunity. Standing on

deck, the Marines took their last look at Iwo. They understood why some

commentators had termed it ‘Marine Island’ and ‘Unadulterated Acres of Hell’.

They understood why the island had to be taken. Overhead were huge B29s,

carrying war to the Japanese homeland, and the sky was full of sleek, fast

Mustangs, protection for the Superforts.

At that particular time I did have a feeling of satisfaction. It was sort of a strange,

quiet feeling. Was it really a win or a loss when all our losses were taken into

consideration? I’ll never forget it. I feel the same today, 55 years later.

Upon arrival back at Guam, we learned we’d be in a new area where tents were

already up and there was an enclosed mess hall with tables and seating. Other than while

aboard some transport ship, we hadn’t sat at a table for the past two years. After two

weeks there, all the old timers, two years plus overseas, ‘set sail for the U. S.’