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

by Daniel Wrinn

  The amount of shelling was shocking. Admiral Hill later wrote: “there were no proper targets for shore bombardment remaining on D-Day morning.” This was an overstatement. No one denied the fury of firepower delivered against the landing beaches and surrounding areas. General Kuribayashi admitted in an assessment report to Imperial headquarters: “we need to reconsider the power of bombardment from ships. The violence of enemy bombardments is far beyond description.”

  When the task force appeared over the horizon, troop ships crowded with combat-equipped Marines gazed at the stunning fireworks. The Guadalcanal veterans among them watched with grim satisfaction as battleships hammered the island. The world had come full circle from the dark days of October 1942: when the 1st Marines and the Cactus Air Force suffered a similar shelling from Japanese battleships.

  Sailors and Marines were eager to get their first glimpse of the objective. War correspondent John Marquand wrote of his first impressions on Iwo: “a silhouette like a sea monster, with a little dead volcano for a head and the beach area for the neck and a scrubby brown cliff for the body.”

  Navy Lieutenant David Susskind wrote his thoughts from the bridge of the troopship Mellette: “Iwo Jima was an ugly and rude sight. Only a geologist could look at it and not be disgusted.”

  A surgeon in the 25th Marines, Lieutenant Mike Keleher wrote: “the naval bombardment had already begun. I saw the orange-yellow flashes as the cruisers, battleships, and destroyers blasted away at the island with broadsides. We were close to Iwo, just like the pictures and models we’d been studying for weeks. A volcano was on our left and long flat beaches in a rough, rocky plateau was on our right.”

  General Clifton Cates studied the island through binoculars from his ship. Each division would land two reinforced regiments abreast. From left to right, the beaches were designated Green, Red, Yellow, and Blue. The 5th Division would land the 27th and 28th Marines on the left flank on Green and Red Beaches, While the 4th would land the 23rd and 25th Marines on the right flank at Blue Beach.

  General Schmidt reviewed the latest intelligence reports with growing anxiety and requested that General Holland Smith reassign the reserve forces. Schmidt wanted the 3/21 Marines to replace the 26th Marines as the core reserve and release them to the 5th Division. Schmidt envisioned the 28th Marines cutting the island in half before turning to capture Suribachi. The 25th would scale the rock quarry, serving as the hinge for the entire corps to swing north. The 23rd and 27th Marines would then capture the first airfield, before pivoting north into their assigned zones.

  General Cates was concerned about Blue Beach on the right flank. Blue Beach was directly under the observation and fire of suspected enemy positions in the rock quarry. Steep cliffs overshadowed their right flank, while Suribachi dominated the left. The 4th Division figured that the 25th Marines would have the most challenging objective to take on D-Day. General Cates said: “if I knew the name of the man on the extreme right of that squad, I’d recommend him for a medal before we even get there.”

  Iwo Jima was the pinnacle of a forced amphibious landing against a heavily fortified shore. A complex art mastered by the Fifth Fleet through many painstaking campaigns. B-24 bombers from the Seventh Air Force flew in to strike the smoking island. Rocket ships moved in to saturate shore targets. Fighter and attack squadrons from Mitscher’s Task Force 58 joined in. While Navy pilots showed their skills at bombing and strafing, the troops started cheering at the sight of F4U Corsairs flown in from Marine fighter squadron 213.

  Colonel Vernon McGee was the air officer for the Expeditionary Troops. He urged this special show for the men in the assault waves. “Drag your bellies on the beach,” McGee said to the Marine fighters. The F4U Corsairs made an aggressive approach parallel to the island. They streaked low over the beaches and savagely strafed enemy targets. The Pacific War geography since Bougainville kept ground Marines separated from their air support. According to McGee: “it was the first-time many troops had ever seen a Marine fighter plane, and they were not disappointed.”

  Not long after the planes left, naval gunfire resumed. Gunfire carpeted the beach with a crescendo of high explosive shells. Ship-to-shore movement was underway, an easy thirty-minute run for the LVTs. For Operation Detachment, there were enough LVTs to get the job done. Sixty-eight LVT (A)4 armored amtracs, with snub-nosed 75mm cannons, blasted the way forward with 385 troop laden LVTs following close behind. The assault waves crossed the line of departure on time and confidently chugged toward the smoking beaches.

  On Iwo, there was no coral reef or killer neap tides to worry about. Navy frogmen cleared the approaches of tetrahedrons and mines. There was no premature secession of fire. The modified rolling barrage was in effect, and no vehicles were lost from enemy fire. Assault waves hit the beaches within two minutes of H-hour. Enemy observers watching the drama unfold from a cave on the slopes of Suribachi reported: “At 9 am, several hundred landing craft with amphibious tanks rushed toward shore like an enormous tidal wave.”

  Colonel Robert Williams, XO of the 28th Marines, later wrote: “The landing was a magnificent sight to see—two divisions landing abreast—you could see the whole show from the deck of a ship. At this point, so far so good.”

  The first obstacle didn’t come from the Japanese, but from the beach and its parallel terraces. Iwo was a volcano with steep beaches that sharply dropped off into a narrow and violent surf zone. Soft black sand immobilized all wheeled vehicles and caused many tracked amphibious vehicles to belly down and get stuck.

  The following boat waves had even more trouble. When ramps dropped and a Jeep or truck would drive out, they got stuck too. Then, plunging waves would smash into the stalled craft before they could unload, filling their sterns with water and sand and broaching them broadside. The beach quickly became a salvage yard.

  Getting the Guns Ashore

  The heavily laden infantry was bogged down. According to Corporal Ed Hartman, a rifleman in the 4th Marine Division: “the sand was so soft, it was like trying to run in loose coffee grounds.” The 28th Marines’ first report after getting ashore: “resistance moderate, terrain awful.”

  The rolling barrage and carefully executed landing produced the desired effect: suppressing enemy fire while providing enough shock and awe to allow the first assault waves to clear the beach and advance inward. In less than fifteen minutes, 6,000 Marines were ashore. Many were hampered by increasing fire over the terraces and down from the highlands, but hundreds leaped forward and maintained their assault momentum.

  The 28th Marines on the left flank had rehearsed this landing on the volcanic terrain of Hawaii’s Big Island. Now, despite increasing casualties among company commanders and the usual landing disorganization, elements of the regiment used their initiative to advance across the narrow neck of the peninsula. This became much bloodier as enemy strong points along Suribachi’s base sprung to life.

  Ninety minutes after landing, elements of the 1/28 Marines reached the western shore—700 yards from Green Beach—Iwo had been severed. According to one Marine: “it was like we cut off the snake’s head.” This was the deepest penetration of what would become a costly and bloody day.

  The regiments had difficulty getting across the black-sand terraces toward the airfield. The terrain was like an open bowl in a shooting gallery. In full view of Suribachi on the left and a rising table to the right. Any thoughts of this operation being a cakewalk quickly vanished as registered machine gun fire whistled across the open ground and mortar rounds dropped along the terraces. Through this hardship, the 27th Marines made good initial gains and reached the southern and western edges of the first airfield by noon.

  The 23rd Marines on Yellow Beach took the brunt of the first round of enemy combined arms fire. Troops crossing the terrace were confronted by two massive concrete pillboxes—still lethal after the bombardment. Overcoming these positions proved costly in men and time and. More fortified positions rose from the broken ground beyond. Requests fo
r tank support could not be fulfilled because of the congestion problems on the beach. Still, the regiment clawed its way several hundred yards toward the eastern edge of the airstrip.

  The 25th Marines immediately ran into a “Buzz-Saw” trying to move across Blue Beach. General Cates was correct in his appraisal: “The right flank was a bitch, if there ever was one.” The 1/25 Marines scratched, scrambled, and clawed their way 300 yards forward under heavy enemy fire in the first half-hour. The 3/25 Marines took the heaviest beating of the day on the extreme right flank while trying to scale the cliffs leading to the rock quarry.

  According to Lieutenant Colonel Justice Chambers leading the 3/25 Marines: “Crossing that second terrace, there was fire from automatic weapons coming from all over. I could’ve held up a cigarette and lit it on the stuff going by. I knew immediately we were in for one hell of a fight.”

  But this was only the beginning. When the landing forces tried to overcome the enemy’s infantry weapons, they were blind to an imperceptible stirring taking place among the rocks and crevices in the interior highlands. General Kuribayashi’s gunners unmasked their big guns—giant mortars, heavy artillery, rockets, and antitank weapons held under the tightest discipline for just this precise moment. Kuribayashi had waited patiently until the beaches were clogged with troops and material. Gun crews knew the range and deflection at each landing beach by heart: all weapons had been pre-registered on these targets long ago. At Kuribayashi’s signal, hundreds of weapons opened fire. It was shortly after 1030.

  This bombardment was as horrifying and deadly as any the Marines had ever experienced. There was no cover. Enemy mortar and artillery rounds blanketed every corner of the 3,000-yard-wide beach. Large caliber coastal defense guns and dual-purpose antiaircraft guns fired horizontally. This created a deadly scissor of direct fire from the high ground on both flanks. Marines stumbled over the terraces to escape the rain of lethal projectiles only to encounter machine-gun fire and minefields. Landing force casualties mounted at a shocking rate.

  Major Karch of the 14th Marines expressed a begrudging admiration for the Japanese gunners: “it was one of the worst blood-lettings of the war. They rolled artillery barrages up and down the beach—I don’t see how anybody could’ve lived through such a heavy fire barrage. The Japanese were superb artillerymen—someone was going to get hit every time they fired.”

  At sea, naval gunfire support desperately tried to deliver fire against enemy gun positions shooting down from the rock quarry. It took longer to coordinate this fire: the first enemy barrages wiped out the entire 3/25 Marines Shore Fire Control Party.

  When the Japanese fire reached a crescendo, assault regiments issued grim reports to the flagship. Within fifteen minutes, these messages buzzed over the command net:

  From 25th Marines 1036: Catching hell from the quarry. Heavy mortar and machine-gun fire.

  From the 23rd Marines 1039: Taking heavy casualties and cannot move forward. Mortars are killing us.

  From the 27th Marines 1042: All units pinned down by mortars and artillery. Heavy casualties. Need tank support fast to move.

  From the 28th Marines 1046: Taking heavy fire and forward movement stopped. Artillery and machine-gun fire heaviest yet seen.

  The landing force was getting bled but did not panic. The abundance of combat veterans throughout the rank-and-file beach regiments helped the rookies focus on the objective. Communications were still effective. Aerial observers spotted some of the now exposed gun positions and directed effective naval gunfire. Carrier planes screeched in low and dropped napalm from their belly tanks. But heavy enemy fire continued to take an awful toll throughout the first day and night—but would never again be as murderous as that first hour.

  Sherman tanks played hell getting into the action on D-Day. Later in the battle, these combat vehicles were the most valuable weapons on the battlefield. This day was a nightmare. The assault divisions had embarked many tanks on board LSMs (Landing Ship Medium), sturdy craft that could deliver five Shermans at a time. But it was a challenge to disembark them on Iwo’s steep beaches. The LSMs’ stern anchors couldn’t hold in the loose sand and the bow cables parted under the strain.

  One lead tank stalled on top of the ramp and blocked the others, leaving the LSM at the mercy of the violent surf. Other tanks threw tracks or got bogged down in loose sand. Several tanks that made it over the terraces were destroyed by huge horn mines or were disabled by accurate 47mm antitank fire from Suribachi. Still, the tanks kept coming. Their mobility, armor protection, and 75mm guns were a welcome addition to the scattered infantry along Iwo’s lunar-looking, shell-pocked landscape.

  The division commanders committed their reserves. The 26th Marines were ordered in just after noon, General Cates ordered two battalions of the 24th Marines to land at 1400. The 3/24 Marines followed several hours later. The reserve suffered heavier casualties than the initial assault units crossing the beach, because of the punishing enemy bombardment from all island points.

  Aware of a probable Japanese counterattack in the night to come, and despite the fire and confusion along the beaches, both divisions ordered their artillery regiments ashore. This frustrating and costly process took most of the afternoon. The surf and wind picked up as the day wore on and caused more than one low-riding amphibious truck to swamp with its precious 105mm howitzer cargo. Getting the guns ashore was one thing; getting them up off the sand was another.

  The 75mm howitzers did better than the heavier 105s. Marines could quickly move them up over the terraces—at significant risk. But the 105s had a mind of their own in the black sand. The effort to get each weapon off the beach was a saga. Despite unforgiving terrain and enemy fire, Marines managed to get the batteries in place and registered them to render close-fire support before dark.

  Plunging surf and enemy fire turned the battlefield into utter chaos. Later that afternoon, Lieutenant Mike Keleher, the battalion surgeon, went ashore to take over the aid station. (A sniper had killed the previous surgeon.) Lieutenant Keleher was a veteran of three assault landings. He was shocked by the carnage on Blue Beach: “such a sight on the beach. Wrecked boats, bogged down jeeps and tractors and tanks. Burning vehicles and casualties. Limbs of dead Marines were scattered all over the beach.”

  Prowling Wolves

  An enemy mortar shell took the life of the legendary John Basilone. He’d led his machine gun platoon in a brave attack against the southern portion of the airfield. All Marines on the island felt this loss. Farther east, Colonel Rob Galer (one of the Pacific War’s first fighter aces) survived the afternoon’s battle along the beaches and reassembled his scattered radar unit in a deep shell-hole near the base of Suribachi.

  Later that afternoon, Colonel Donn Robertson led his Marines onshore to Blue Beach. He was shocked at the intensity of fire still directed at the troops so late on D-Day: “they were ready for us. I watched with pride and wonderment as young Marines landed under fire, took casualties, and stumbled forward to clear the beach. I asked myself, what impels a young man landing on the beach in the face of fire?”

  Then it was Robertson’s turn. His boat slammed into the beach too hard. The ramp wouldn’t drop. His Marines had to roll over the gunwales into the churning surf and crawl ashore.

  The savage battle to capture the rock quarry cliffs on the right flank raged. The beachhead was exposed to direct enemy fire all day. Marines had to storm them before any more supplies or troops could be landed. In the end, it was the fighting spirit of Captain James Headley and Colonel “Jumping Joe” Chambers who led the survivors of the Marines to the top of the cliffs.

  The battalion paid a high price for this feat. They’d lost twenty-two officers and five hundred troops by nightfall. Assistant division commanders Generals Hart and Hermle of the 4th and 5th Marine Division spent most of D-Day on board the control vessels marking both ends of the line a departure—4,000 yards offshore. This was another lesson in amphibious techniques learned from Tarawa. Having senior
officers close to the ship-to-shore movement provided landing force decision-making from the forward most vantage point. By dust, General Hermle chose to come ashore. On Tarawa, he’d spent the night of D-Day out of contact on a fire-swept pierhead. This time he would be in the fight.

  Hermle had the bigger operational picture in mind. He understood that the corps’ commanders insistence on forcing the reserves and artillery units onshore despite the carnage to build combat power. Hermle knew that whatever the night brought, the Allies had more troops on the island than the Japanese could muster. His presence would help his division forget about the earlier days’ disaster and focus on preparing for the inevitable enemy counterattacks.

  Enemy mortar and artillery fire raked the beachhead. An enormous spigot of mortar shells (Marines called them “flying ashcans”) and rocket-boosted aerial bombs were loud, whistling projectiles that tumbled end over end. Many of them sailed over the island, but those that landed along the beaches of the southern runways caused dozens of casualties. Few Marines could dig a proper foxhole in the sand. It was like trying to dig a hole in a barrel of wheat. With urgent calls to the control ship for plasma and stretchers and mortar shells came repeated sandbag requests.

  War combat correspondent Lieutenant Cyril Zurlinden (soon to become a casualty himself) described his first night ashore: “On Tarawa, Saipan, and Tinian, I saw Marines killed and wounded in a shocking manner. But I never saw anything like the ghastliness that hung over the Iwo Jima beachhead. It was utter frustration, anguish, and a constant inner battle to maintain at least some semblance of sanity.

  Accounting for personnel was a nightmare under those conditions. But assault divisions eventually reported a combined loss of 2,375 men to General Schmidt—503 killed and 1,755 wounded, 18 missing, and 99 combat fatigues. While these statistics were sobering, Schmidt had gotten 30,000 Marines ashore. A casualty rate of eight percent left the landing force in better condition than Saipan or Tarawa’s first day. It was a miracle the casualties hadn’t been twice as high. Did Kuribayashi wait too long to use his big guns?