The New York Times Book of World War II, 1939-1945

by The New York Times

  By the morning of Nov. 25 a galaxy of famous Allied figures had appeared. Virtually every famous United Nations military leader was here.

  Dr. Tong revealed details of General Chiang’s daily routine, pointing out that it was unchanged by the African atmosphere and the press of new work.

  The Generalissimo rises at 5 A.M. and spends a half hour at his devotions. After breakfast he starts his work.

  Both Generalissimo and Mme. Chiang atended the plenary conferences with the heads of states, where Madame Chiang interpreted for her husband. But neither attended the strategic staff talks.

  General Shan Chen, director general of National Military Council, represented China as senior military officer, with Admiral Yang as chief of intelligence, since the only navy that he has is Yangtze River gunboats. Gen. Shih Ming, military attaché in Washington, acted as interpreter.

  On the evening of Nov. 24 there were new arrivals. Harold Macmillan, British member of the Italian Advisory Council, flew in. Then Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden arrived with Sir Alexander Cadogan.

  EISENHOWER AND MURPHY ATTEND

  On Nov. 25, Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower and Robert D. Murphy arrived. This indicated obvious preparations to include European aspects in what had hitherto been primarily Asiatic talks.

  Although Thursday was Thanksgiving, the conferences continued, with two American talks in the morning as well as one British staff talk. But during the afternoon the conferences were largely limited to lesser officers. A new world map was placed in the main meeting room.

  On Thanksgiving Day, General Eisenhower received the Legion of Merit from Mr. Roosevelt at his villa before General Marshall. The award was made for his “outstanding contributions to the Allied cause.” Mr. Roosevelt dined the previous night with Mr. Churchill, Mr. Eden, Mr. Hopkins, W. Averill Harriman, Mr. Winant, Col. Elliott Roosevelt, Maj. John Boettiger and others.

  All during Nov. 26, Mr. Eden worked steadily, conferring often with Mr. Winant and lunching with several Allied dignitaries. In the afternoon, in Conference Room 1, there was an important meeting of the staff chiefs and the Mediterranean commanders. After an hour the Mediterranean experts left but the conference continued.

  After some time the most secret talks, among staff chiefs only, commenced. All others left the room and the Marine Guards were ordered to permit no entries, regardless of rank.

  DECEMBER 2, 1943

  1,026 MARINES LOST IN TARAWA CAPTURE

  2,557 Wounded, Nimitz Reveals—65 Soldiers Died On Makin, 121 Injured In Assault

  ONE SLAIN ON ABEMAMA

  Our Total Casualties Of 3,772 Compare With Japanese Dead Numbering 5,700

  By GEORGE F. HORNE

  By Telephone to The New York Times.

  PEARL HARBOR, Dec. 1—Our total casualties among assault forces in the Gilberts occupation numbered 3,772 men.

  Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, commanding the United States Fleet and Pacific Ocean areas, in a communiqué issued before noon today, listed total casualties on the basis of preliminary reports that have come in from Vice Admiral Raymond A. Spruance, commander of the Central Pacific force; Maj. Gen. Ralph C. Smith, USA, commanding the Twenty-seventh Division, elements of which made the landing on Makin, and Maj. Gen. Julian Smith, United States Marine Corps, commanding the Second Marine Division, which took Tarawa.

  The figures reveal that at Tarawa 1,026 men were killed in action and 2,557 wounded; at Makin sixty-five were killed in action and 121 wounded, and at Abemama one was killed in action and two were wounded.

  The figures noted in the communiqué are approximate and cover events up to today. Final and conclusive reports, which will take some time in preparation, are not expected to vary greatly from these estimates, which have been released with unusual promptness following the termination of the engagement.

  WARNINGS RECALLED

  In the light of stern warnings issued in high quarters here and in Washington and equally in view of the tremendous value that will accrue to us in possession of the islands, the losses are not considered too extreme.

  The losses might well have been much higher, considering the surprising strength of the Japanese defenses at Tarawa, and they may be compared favorably with Japanese losses. In assault operations of this kind it is almost invariably the case that the attacking troops lose more than the defenders. Tarawa was taken by less than a division of marines, against about 4,500 Japanese defenders, of whom approximately 3,500 were fighting men and the rest laborers.

  At Makin there were fewer than 1,000 Japanese. The assault there took fifty-four hours. Landings on Abemama, which took place after the other battles were well under way, met virtually no resistance and the marine raider force cleaned up the island in a matter of a few hours. Abemama was defended by fewer than 200 men.

  The figures released today include a few Navy and Coast Guard casualties among the men of these elements who engaged in the landings as part of the medical forces and landing boat crews.

  Against our losses it is now possible to set fairly accurate figures of Japanese losses. We all but wiped out the garrisons of the enemy on these islands, for few prisoners were taken. Including the laborer-prisoners mentioned in the overall figures, the Japanese had approximately 5,700 men on the three atoll groups.

  In the absence of any indication of severe losses among our sea forces—and Secretary of Navy Frank Knox has been quoted in Washington to the effect that they were “light”—it is fair to compare our total killed in action—1,092—with the total Japanese strength of 5,700.

  No attempt is made in the comparison to gloss the rugged truth. Admiral Nimitz, in his stark communiqué says merely, “Preliminary reports of the Gilbert operations indicate that our landing forces suffered the following approximate casualties,” and then comes the table.

  A few remaining enemy stragglers in the north of Tarawa atoll were mentioned two days ago. There are no more now. The last sniper has been ferreted out and the last foxhole purged. No Japanese are left in the Gilberts.

  2 CARRIERS SUNK, FOE CLAIMS

  A Tokyo broadcast recorded by The Associated Press in New York quoted a Japanese Imperial Headquarters communiqué as saying that Japanese naval aircraft had sunk two Allied aircraft carriers and another unidentified warship east of the Gilbert Islands on the night of Nov. 29. A large cruiser also was set afire, said the communiqué, which was wholly unconfirmed by any Allied reports. The Japanese acknowledged the loss of six planes.

  The aftermath of the Battle of Tarawa.

  DECEMBER 3, 1943

  AMERICANS BATTLE THE MUD IN ITALY

  The Going Against Germans Is Also Tough—Foe’s Boots Held Superior to Ours

  By HERBERT L. MATTHEWS

  By Wireless to The New York Times.

  WITH ALLIED FIFTH ARMY IN ITALY, Dec. 1 (Delayed)—It is slow, hard going in the hills north of Venafro, where the American force is slogging its way from hill to hill, the writer learned today on a visit to the front.

  The Germans are contesting every mountain top and for two days they have been fighting vainly to get back one mountain west of Montaquilo. On Monday they attacked it four times and last night they went for it in earnest with a few companies of infantry, preceded by artillery and mortar fire.

  This afternoon we were still holding that hill and another one south of Castelnuovo, which the Germans hung on to grimly and have been trying to take back ever since it was lost. It was tough, close fighting on that mountain, with soldiers within less than a hundred yards of each other, throwing hand grenades. In repulsing last night’s attack west of Montaquilo grenades were also used along with everything else that the Americans had, from artillery down to rifles.

  With weather still bad and the Germans contesting every summit, the troops cannot advance quickly. All morning there was a cold, driving rain, with oceans of mud under foot—mud in which you flounder, slide and often fall, mud that splashes you from head to foot, mud in which even a four-wheel drive jeep skids as if on ice.
It is miserable for the soldiers, but with pup tents and sometimes caves, with overcoats, extra blankets and sometimes overshoes, it becomes bearable.

  The Germans, incidentally, are dressed as well as American soldiers and with even better boots. They are a good type of soldier along this whole sector and they are fighting well.

  Around Venafro itself the front has been static for both sides, which have had each other pinned down so that, as one officer put it to me, “If Jerry as much as raises his head during the daytime it comes off, and the same goes for our boys.”

  So all the fighting is done at night, and sometimes units go astray in the dark, which happened yesterday just before 10, near Mignano, when a German company, evidently moving into line, came under our observation and was heavily shelled.

  Today the communiqué mentions reconnaissance in force that took place northeast of Mignano. Our unit went out night before last and stayed all day yesterday, returning safely, its mission accomplished.

  DECEMBER 4, 1943

  AMERICAN FORCES HELPING TO WRITE THE EPIC OF MAKIN AND TARAWA

  Grim Tarawa Defense a Surprise, Eyewitness of Battle Reveals Marines Went in Chuckling, To Find Swift Death Instead of Easy Conquest—Writer Senses ‘Something Wrong’

  This eyewitness account of the conquest of Tarawa was written by the first Marine Corps combat correspondent to land on Tarawa Atoll, in the Gilbert Islands:

  By SGT. JAMES LUCAS

  TARAWA, Nov. 23 (Delayed) (AP)—Five minutes ago we wrested this strategic Gilbert Island outpost and its all-important air strip from the Japanese who seized it from a few missionaries and natives weeks after they had attacked Pearl Harbor.

  It has been the bitterest, costliest, most sustained fighting on any front. It has cost us the lives of hundreds of United States Marines. But we have wiped out a force of 4,000 Imperial Japanese Marines—we expected to find only 2,000—mostly dead.

  Before we started it was great fun. We grinned and chortled. We said, “There won’t be a Jap alive when we get ashore.”

  That was the plan. Naval and air bombardment was to all but destroy the island.

  But something suddenly appeared to have gone wrong. We learned H hour had been delayed thirty-one, then forty-five minutes. The pounding continued. There was little doubt there were still living—and fighting—Japs on the island.

  Fifteen minutes later, we climbed into our tank lighter, sharing it with many other marines, and a truck and a trailer.

  “We have landed against heavy opposition,” came the first word from shore. “Casualties severe.”

  It came over our radio as we moved in. We looked grimly at each other.

  A control boat roared by, a naval officer screaming at us to “stay back” until we received word it was safe to go in. That was 10:30 A.M.

  TURNED BACK TWICE MORE

  At 1 P.M. we started in again, moving toward the pier which appeared undamaged. We were stopped by machine gun fire.

  At 3 P.M. we tried again. Shells tore the water on all sides. Two more boats went down, and more marines died. We backed out again, unable to pick up the survivors. Many of them swam to us, and were later moved back to their transports. Many of the wounded drowned.

  The sun was punishing. There was no shade. We broke out our rations and nibbled at them.

  At midnight the control boat appeared out of the darkness. We were to try again.

  We inched toward the dock, partly wrecked by our own shelling. The hulk of a Japanese merchantman loomed to the right. Two direct hits from our destroyers had put it out of action. On the lookout for snipers, we covered it with our machine guns.

  When we reached the dock snipers in the wrecked ship opened up, but they were firing over our heads. We climbed on the dock and more snipers fired. We hit the deck. We moved down the docks ten feet. Japs on the beach began throwing mortars our way. We hit the deck again.

  Minutes later a second mortar hit directly beneath us. I felt the blast and was sprayed with salt water.

  Someone yelled:

  “Get to the other side! The next one will be right on!”

  We were uncertain where to go. The Japs’ lines were only fifty yards past the end of the pier, and there was no command post.

  The last seventy-five yards of the pier was white coral grit. There was a brilliant moon—at home I would have called it beautiful. We swore at it viciously. We were perfect targets.

  Crouched, we sprinted down the pier, silhouetted against the coral. Snipers opened up, and six men fell, screaming in agony. We lay like logs.

  “We can’t stay here,” someone said up the line. “They’ll shell hell out of us and we’ll all be gone.”

  “Advance slowly. Five feet between each man. They won’t get us all that way.”

  FIRST FOXHOLE ON ISLAND

  We started. Three more marines fell, and we hit the ground. Inch by inch we moved up. Each ten yards cost us the lives of more marines.

  On the beach, the fire was still hot. We ducked behind the wreckage of a Japanese steam roller which appeared to be between us and the enemy. I found a shovel and began frantically to dig. Within five minutes we had our first foxhole on Tarawa.

  There we spent the night. It was 4 A.M. when we got to lie down.

  At dawn we found our position precarious. Our own men were on the left of us, the Japs not more than fifty yards on the right. We were in No Man’s Land.

  At 6 A.M. a fight began over our foxhole. Scores of bullets nicked off the big steam roller, while we burrowed deeper.

  Shortly before noon the Japs were driven back, and we came out of hiding.

  Our cruisers and destroyers resumed their shelling of the Jap half of the island, knocking out the last remaining big guns. The concussion was terrific, for the shells were landing not more than 100 yards away. Our planes came in strafing.

  I waded and swam through a small bay to reach the opposite shore but was unable to find anyone. Virtually everyone I knew was reported dead or missing.

  REPORTED KILLED IN ACTION

  Far down the beach (not more than fifty yards but it took me two hours to cover it), I saw a marine with a camera. Painfully I crawled to him, for my body was one mass of bruises.

  He was a stranger.

  “Where’d you get it?” I asked.

  “From Lucas,” he replied.

  “Where is Lucas?” I asked.

  “Over there,” he replied. “Dead.”

  “I’m Lucas,” I told him.

  I left my foxhole at noon, went 100 yards and returned at 6 P.M. It was that tough.

  The night was hellish. More men came in, and more were killed on the pier.

  At dawn the enemy sent its first bombers. There were only two of them, and five men were killed.

  We awoke to one of the strangest sights in history. We badly needed replacements. Men were being landed 500 yards from shore in the surf at low tide and were wading in past enemy machine gun emplacements. Many men fell before they reached shore. In the afternoon marines were still staggering ashore, carrying the limp forms of buddies between them.

  By now, however, the Japs were being forced steadily back. We were able to move about. Snipers continued, but we ignored them. One was killed in a coconut tree fifty feet away.

  Still our naval and air poundings continued. On the third day the heaviest fighting took part in a cleared space around the air strip.

  Suddenly there was firing at our rear. Seven Japs had been found in the ruins of a dugout less than ten feet from the command post from which our officers were directing the operations. They were wiped out.

  PRISONERS KILLED BY SNIPERS

  I returned to the beach to find snipers again sweeping the pier where ammunition was being unloaded. They fired from the wreckage of one of our boats fifty yards away. I ducked into the water on the opposite side, and found five husky military policemen herding a convoy of Japanese prisoners toward the beach in water up to their waists and up to the Japs, shoulders. Thr
ee dead marines were in the water. The MP’s herded the Japs out to a waiting landing barge. As the frightened prisoners climbed aboard, they were subjected to murderous fire from their own snipers. Three were killed.

  I got back in time to be in on the battle that broke Japanese resistance on Tarawa. Several hundred Japs were holed up for two days in a bomb-proof shelter at the end of the airstrip, holding up our advance.

  Pfc. Robert Harper, 22, of Houston, Texas, and Sgt. John Rybin, 25, of Laurel, Mont., dashed forward with their flame-throwers while automatic riflemen covered them. At the entrance of the bomb shelter Harper threw his flame on a Jap machine-gun nest, charring three enemy marines beyond recognition. He poured on more fire. There were screams inside the shelter, and the marines rushed forward to capture their objective. Harper returned to our post.

  “They were all huddled in there scared to death,” he said. “I turned on the heat and that was all.”

  From this point on our advance was rapid. Following our advancing troops, I came upon one position we had held less than five minutes and counted twenty-seven Japanese who had committed suicide by strapping their feet to the triggers of their rifles, placing the muzzle to their chests and pulling the trigger with a kick.

  Under heavy guard, some of the few prisoners captured on Tarawa are marched along a beach. They are ordered to walk in a stooped position to safeguard against their making a surprise attack or an escape.

  DECEMBER 6, 1943

  BARI IS ATTACKED BY GERMAN PLANES

  Use of Glider Bombs Seen as First Air Assault on City Takes It by Surprise

  By WALTER LOGAN

  United Press Correspondent