World War II Pacific: Battles and Campaigns from Guadalcanal to Okinawa 1942-1945 (WW2 Pacific Military History Series)

by Daniel Wrinn

  Great Mariana’s Turkey Shoot

  June 19-22, 1944

  The most significant event of the entire Saipan campaign took place at sea. The two carrier task forces clashed in a colossal air battle. And when it was over, the Japanese suffered a devastating loss of three-hundred and thirty planes out of the four hundred and thirty they’d launched. US Navy flyers called it “The Great Mariana’s Turkey Shoot” because of the extreme loss inflicted on the Japanese.

  With the help of American submarines and additional carrier plane attacks the next day, the Japanese attempt to relieve Saipan was smashed by a decisive US naval victory. The doom of the enemy garrison was now assured. The American supply ships returned offshore to unload their remaining cargo.

  During this time, the 105th Infantry moved slowly along the south coast. They joined the 165th Infantry, sealing off Japanese survivors at Nafutan Point. Once the Japanese were trapped, the 105th were assigned to destroy them. The rest of the 27th Division, including the 165th Infantry, were ordered north as a reserve.

  June 19–22 marked a shift in direction for American troops. By pivoting the 2nd Marines onto the far-left flank along the western shore, other Marine regiments swung around from their drive, which had reached the east coast at Magicienne Bay.

  On June 20, the 4th Division confronted a key objective. A young lieutenant later recalled: “We had a perfect chance to watch a battalion of the 25th attack. They were in action less than a quarter mile from us. The whole landscape was spread out before us. They assaulted Hill 500, the dominant terrain feature of the entire area. It was obvious they were running into a solid wall of Jap fire. Using artillery timed fire, smoke, and tanks—they stormed to the top and took it. The use of those supporting arms was an overwhelming spectacle. From our vantage point, we watched the timed fire raging in cave entrances and down the face of the hill as if it were going down a stepladder. On lower levels, flamethrower tanks sprouted their napalm Jets upward into other caves. It was quite a show.”

  In the 2nd Division’s area, the 8th Marines wheeled to attack north into the foothills of Mount Tapotchau. Both Marine divisions now faced serious problems. Their northern drive was stalled by Lieutenant General Yoshitsugu Saitō’s main line of defense, running east to west across the island. The terrain into where the attack had to go was a nightmare of caves, hills, valleys, ravines, and cliffs—fortified and defended to the death by Japanese troops.

  On June 21, the frontline troops got a reprieve. They rested at their positions, caught up on deeply needed sleep, got some water, and even had a hot meal. They got their first 10-in-1 rations in addition to their K rations.

  Intensive preparations were made for a coordinated attack by both Marine divisions the following day. Eighteen artillery battalions were massed for supporting fire. Combat efficiency was rated as satisfactory, despite the sobering total of over six thousand casualties.

  On June 22, the Marines attacked all along the line. The 6th Marines overran parts of Mount Tipo Pali, while the 8th Marines worked their way into the maze of gullies and ridges forming Mount Tapotchau’s foothills.

  On the right flank, the 24th Marines were forced into the messy business of blasting caves along Magicienne Bay. In one of the mortar platoons, a weird encounter took place as described by Lieutenant Joe Cushing: “I bent over one of my mortars and checking the lay of it when I felt a tap on my shoulder, and a guy asked me, ‘Hey Mac, are you Marine?’ I turned around, and a Jap officer stood less than a foot away from me. I dropped to the ground speechless, and one of my men riddled that Jap from head to toe.”

  On the left of the 4th Division’s area, the 25th Marines advanced 2,400 yards. The forward lines reached an area where the Kagman Peninsula jetted off to the east. This resulted in a substantially increased frontage that the two Marine divisions couldn’t cover. To deal with this General Holland Smith ordered his reserve, the Army’s 27th Infantry Division to the center of the line and left one battalion of the 105th Infantry in the rear to continue its attempt to eliminate Japanese pockets on the bypassed Nafutan Point.

  June 22 marked the arrival of the 19th Fighter Squadron from the US Army Air Forces. P-47 Thunderbolts, launched from Navy escort carriers, landed at Aslito Airfield. The P-47s were fitted with launching racks for rockets by ground crews after they landed. Later that day, eight planes took off in the first support mission of the Saipan campaign. There were only two Marine observation squadrons, VMO-2 and VMO-4, involved in the battle for Saipan. They provided invaluable artillery spotting for the two Marine divisions.

  While these developments took place, down in the rock-bottom basic life of infantry platoons, days of relentless combat pressure were embodied by the impact of the regular duties in high-stress levels on the platoon commanders: “I’d made a final inspection of the platoon position and then sacked in—exhausted. When it was my turn to stand watch, it took every reserve of willpower and strength to get up and go on duty. For hours, I alternated between fighting off sleepiness and sweating out the noises and movements that encircled us. I spotted a dark shape, darker than the other shadows. It was the size of a man’s head. I watched for a long time, nerves on edge, finger on my M-1 carbine trigger. It moved. I fired a shot. Nothing happened. It would’ve been suicide to go over and investigate. In the darkness and jungle my men would have shot me in a second. So, when it came time for my relief, I pointed out the suspicious object to the next man and told him to watch closely. Then I collapsed into a dead-tired sleep.

  “At dawn, first thing I did was look over where I’d shot the night before. Lying on top of a rock was a gas mask from one of my men. The owner had been sleeping right beside it—a miracle he hadn’t been hit.”

  Marines Storm Garapan

  July 1-4, 1944

  General Holland Smith turned his attention to the operational plans for driving through the northern third of Saipan. He intended to bring the campaign to a successful, even if bloody, finish. His next objective ran eastward across the island to Tanapag and then up Garapan on the west coast. The 2nd Marine Division would be held in reserve near Flores Point.

  This left the 4th Marine Division and the 27th Infantry Division ready to attack General Saitō’s troops and defenses. The easiest assignment during this period fell on the shoulders of the 4th Marine Division on the east coast. They advanced over three thousand yards against light opposition, veering left and ending on July 4 with their left flank less than two-thousand yards north of Tanapag.

  What seemed like light opposition to General Schmidt in his divisional command post looked quite different to a tired lieutenant who described a typical rifle platoon on the morning of July 1: “I took the rest of my men, and we cautiously combed the area. It was a terrible place. Rocks and creepers were so interwoven that they formed an impenetrable barrier. Visibility was limited to only a few feet. After my sergeant was wounded, the atmosphere of the place became even more tense.

  “We found some rock crevices that the Japs might be hiding in. I tried calling to them in our Japanese combat phrases to come out and surrender. This proved fruitless. The Japs knew exactly where we were. I had no idea where they were. I tried to maneuver a flamethrower man into a position where he could give the crevice a blast without becoming a target. But because of the ground’s composition, this proved impossible.

  “It was then we heard a shot off to our left. We headed over to investigate and then all hell broke loose. An automatic Jap weapon opened to our left. We all hit the deck. No one was hit (for a change). But we couldn’t locate the weapon. I called to the man over on the left flank. No answer. What happened?

  “More enemy fire spattered our small group of Marines. The source was right on top of us. I told two of my men to throw grenades at the area they thought the fire was coming from—twenty feet away. Under that cover, we worked a rifleman forward a couple yards to get a bead on that Jap, but he couldn’t spot him, and the enemy fire grew heavier.

  “Here we were�
�isolated from the rest of the company with only six of us left—our flank man had disappeared. We took heavy fire from an uncertain number of Japs we couldn’t locate right in our middle. Some men were getting jittery, so I tried to be as calm and cool as I could, although I didn’t feel that way on the inside. I moved back to the other end of the hilltop and reported to our company commander on the phone. If I could get his okay, I would then [contact another one of our platoons] for reinforcements, and we could move back into this area and clear out the Jap pocket.

  “Our relentless advance against the Jap defenses would often result in face-to-face encounters. After three days, I saw another remarkable act of bravery: Three of our tanks came down the road. They turned to the south, which took them off the high ground and into a cave with literally hundreds of Japs, swarming all over our tanks. We watched and heard the lieutenant who commanded them screaming for help on the radio—and I don’t blame him. They formed a triangle and covered each other as best as they could.”

  The commanding officer closest to the crisis was Lieutenant Colonel Hollis “Musty” Mustain, in charge of the 1/25 Marines. He recalled the incident later: “My executive officer was a regular major named Fenton Mee. We were together and when the radio operators told us what was happening. I turned to Mee and said, ‘Get some people in and get those damn tanks out.’ Major Mee turned to his battalion CP (all staff people) and said, ‘Let’s get going.’ Then he turned and took off. I can still see his face like it was yesterday—he must’ve figured he was going to get killed. But they got there, and the Japs pulled out. This saved our tanks. It was one of the bravest things I ever saw anyone do.”

  By July 4, only six officers remained out of twenty-eight, and three-hundred enlisted men out of the six hundred and ninety remained in those companies. Including the headquarters company, only 468 men remained in the battalion’s original strength of over 1,050. One rifle company had to be disbanded. Another battalion repeated this macabre toll with twenty-two officers killed out of twenty-nine and four hundred and ninety enlisted men killed or wounded in action.

  The 27th Infantry Division advanced in the center of the line of attack. They had a far easier time than in the grinding experience they had previously come through. Their advance also veered left and against “negligible resistance” with the enemy in full flight.

  The 2nd Marines stormed into Garapan and seized Flametree Hill. The regiment found the town in shambles.

  The town had been leveled by Marine artillery and naval gunfire. Twisted metal rooftops covered the area, shielding Japanese snipers. Several deftly hidden pillboxes were spread among the ruins. Engineers, covered by riflemen, slid behind obstacles, and set up explosives while flamethrowers seared the front. With the help of tanks and 75mm self-propelled guns, the 2nd Marines eliminated the scattered resistance before nightfall.

  On the beaches, suppressing fire from the LVT(A)s of the 2nd Armored Amphibian Battalion destroyed Japanese weapons near the water. The 2nd Marines moved past the town into Flores Point, halfway to Tanapag. Their uniforms were filthy. Stiff with sweat and dirt from two weeks of fierce fighting. Marines gleefully dipped their heads into the cool ocean water.

  The other two divisions had veered their attack to the left and already reached the northwest coast. The 2nd Marine Division went into reserve as planned on July 4. General Holland Smith anticipated the end in sight for Saipan. He wanted to rest the 2nd Division and use them for the next assault on neighboring Tinian Island.

  The Japanese withdrew to a defensive line north of Garapan. The American attack not only shattered their manpower, artillery, and tanks, but the enemy was desperate for food. Many starving Japanese troops turned to eating field grass and tree bark.

  Tenno Haika! Banzai

  July 5-8, 1944

  The Japanese retreat left many of their men behind in caves to fight to the death. This tactic posed to American troops the life-threatening question of whether the civilians hidden inside should be saved.

  First Lieutenant Fred Stott of the 1/24 Marines wrote of his experiences: “It was the twenty first day of the battle, and we trudged along a winding trail to relieve the 23rd Marines for an attack scheduled at 1300. A typical artillery barrage followed by morale-lifting rockets was unleashed against cave-dwelling Japs. But neither was effective. The Japs used civilian men, women, and children as decoys. The cost was heavy. Jap soldiers dressed as civilian prisoners succeeded in killing a dozen men from A Company.”

  This kind of treacherous warfare continued. The next day 1st Lieutenant Stott described how he dealt with the Japanese deception: “A few Japs played possum by smearing the blood of other dead Japs on themselves and lying still as the Marines walked up. I gave my Marines instructions to ‘stick it if it didn’t stink.’ Marines had the grim duty of bayoneting all the bodies.

  “We also picked up civilian prisoners, including women and children. Marines took some serious risks. They went into caves, not knowing whether there were soldiers hiding inside, in order to rescue civilians. The minute they got civilians out, they fed them with part of their rations and offered the men cigarettes.”

  After the 2nd Division was put into reserve, it was clear to General Holland Smith that a banzai attack would come. He warned all units to be alert and paid a personal visit on July 6 to General Griner, now in command of the 27th Infantry Division. He stressed the likelihood of an attack coming down the coastline onto the flat ground of Tanapag Plain.

  General Holland Smith hade been furious with General Ralph Smith, and after discussing the matter with AdmiralTurner, he relieved Ralph Smith of command of the 27th Infantry Division on June 24 and sent him to Hawaii. By the Morning of the 25th he was temporarily replaced by Major General Jaraman, who was then replaced by Major General Griner on the June 28th. This conflict created a grudge between the Marines and the Army “that lasted well after the war.”

  While General Holland Smith had the authority to do this, many said it was a rash decision and that he hadn’t considered the challenging terrain the 27th Division faced on Saipan. A report on an interview with General Holland Smith paraphrased him explaining that his decision was for the best because, under Ralph Smith, men were being wasted and more were dying than necessary, and they hadn’t even accomplished their objective while the two Marine divisions had moved forward.

  While General Holland Smith was preparing his men for a banzai attack, General Saitō and his Japanese troops were cornered in his sixth and last command post. It was a miserable cave north of Tanapag in the Paradise Valley. This valley was pounded by naval gunfire and artillery. Saitō only had fragments of his troops left. He was sick, hungry, and wounded. Saitō gave orders for one final and fanatical banzai charge while he committed hara-kiri in his cave.

  On July 6 at 1000, he faced east and shouted: “Tenno Haika! Banzai” (Long live the Empire for ten-thousand ages). He drew his blood first with his sword and then his assistant shot him and Admiral Chūichi Nagumo in the back of the head with a pistol. But not before he ordered the commencement of the final attack at 0300 on July 7 and said [translated], “Whether we attack or whether we stay where we are, there is only death.”

  Another all-out enemy charge was nothing new to the Marines and soldiers on Saipan. One rifleman recounted his experiences: “Whenever we cornered the Japs, and there was no way out, we faced that damn banzai attack. The 23rd Marines had fought off a few of these on our Saipan adventures. I dreaded these attacks but also welcomed them. While they created a great deal of fear, when it was finally over, that sector was Jap-free.

  “For hours, we heard them preparing for a banzai attack. It was their end, and they knew it. They wouldn’t surrender. It was against their training and heritage. All that was left was one last charge of pouring all their troops into one concentrated place—trying to kill as many of us as they could.”

  The rifleman’s account continued with dramatic descriptions of the stressful waiting he endured while listening to
enemy shouts and screams going on for hours. The noise increased as Marine mortars and artillery hammered toward the shouting—adding to the deafening din. Marines waited in foxholes with clips of ammo placed close so they could reload fast. They fixed bayonets to their rifles—ensured knives were loose in their scabbards. They waited in jittery anticipation of the imminent attacks.

  Listening to the screams, their senses were alert and finely tuned. But there was a silence. A silence that signaled the enemy’s advance. Then: “What sounded like a thousand people screaming all at once. A horde of madmen broke out of the darkness. Screams of ‘banzai’ choked the air—Japanese officers led these ‘devils from hell’ with their swords drawn and swishing in circles over their heads. Japanese soldiers followed their officers, firing their weapons and screaming ‘banzai’ as they charged.

  “Our weapons opened up. Mortars and machine guns fired like gangbusters. They didn’t fire in bursts of three or five, but belt after belt of ammo went through the gun. The gunner swiveled the barrel to the left and right. Jap bodies mounted up in front of us, but they still charged, running over their comrades’ fallen bodies. Mortar tubes and machine gun barrels got so hot from the rapid-fire—they could no longer be used.

  “While each attack had taken its toll, they still came in droves. To this day, I can even now visualize the enemy only a few feet away—bayonets aimed at us as we emptied clip after clip into them. Their momentum carried them into our foxholes, right on top of us. Then, after pushing the dead Jap body off me, I’d reload and do it all over again.