by Hugh Ambrose
After midnight, Burgin heard two men fighting two holes away. He could not see much and he could not move from his position. Were more infiltrators coming? Would a marine get jumpy and begin shooting at the shadows? Burgin gripped his rifle and felt the adrenaline rush through him. A man screamed "one of the bloodiest screams I have ever known or heard in my life." It came from a body falling over the cliff. "And he screamed all the way down 'til he hit the bottom." Everyone went on alert, waiting to find out what happened next. When dawn broke hours later Burgin asked the man what had happened. "I knew that I was gonna die," he replied, "because I couldn't break his hold." He had started to black out. The answer had come like a flash. "I reached behind the jap's head with one hand; and clawed his eyes out . . . with the other one." When the hold on him broke, the marine grabbed his assailant "by the nape of the neck and the seat of the pants, and threw him over the cliff." His story was one of many in the company that morning. Even with flares hanging in the sky, it had been a night of "continuous activity."377
Burgin's mortar squad had a busy day, delivering fire on the forward areas to provide cover for the patrols seeking avenues of advance. The terrain prevented the employment of armored vehicles. Riflemen from Item Company made some progress in their sector. They closed some caves, allowing King to move along Hill 140. A pack howitzer was brought up to blast away more obstructions.378 Before dark, they strung some concertina wire in front of them. When they heard sounds that night, the marines pitched grenades. Daylight revealed six dead infiltrators.379 The OP of the 3/5 reported that they could see the enemy going to the pond in the canyon at night. That sounded promising. The artillery had a new mission. It would bracket the pond with a barrage occasionally each night. The first night he tried it, Bucky Harris reported his artillery "netted 24 nips, and the second night a round dozen."380
King was not there to see the second night's tally. On October 15, guides brought up soldiers from the army's 81st Division, the Wildcats. Enemy machinegun and sniper fire did not interrupt the relief of the marines' positions, a mark of the progress the 3/5 had made.381 The 3rd Battalion, the next- to-last marine unit still in combat, walked out to the West Road, then north to the tip where they had once fought. While the rest of their regiment enjoyed the hot showers and screened mess halls near Purple Beach, the companies of the 3/5 took turns watching the northern ridge. More infiltrators were up there. Harris did send around a "generous beer ration" to them.
They had a day to relax. Once again, Sledge had a chance to speak with some soldiers. The army "seemed to regard us as rugged and doers of great things. It really amused me too, for we are no more rugged than they or any others. We are just American boys like they are." The 3/5 received word the following morning that they were going back into action. The army's assault team on Hill 140 had advanced too quickly and found itself under fire from positions on its flanks. The word was for the 3/5 to clean their weapons, top off their canteens, and wait. The trucks arrived. A few hours later, at eleven a.m., Colonel Harris told them to stand down. Since "he knew how grief stricken they would be at missing a last chance upon the hot coral ridges," Bucky issued another two cans of beer per man.382
In the days that followed, cots, hot food, showers, and movies became available. 383 The decompression required for some marines to enjoy these staples of civilian life could take time.384 King Company was reorganized into two platoons. The only officers the company had left were Stumpy Stanley and Duke Ellington. Gene estimated that it had suffered 64 percent casualties. As bad as it was, the men of the 3/5 knew that their regimental commander had stuck his neck out for them. Bucky Harris had demanded that a new route into the objective be tried, rather than continuing to batter itself northward against the Five Sisters. They were very grateful for it.385
Although the daily mail call resumed, three days passed before Eugene could write his parents. The letters he received from them became more frantic with each advancing postmark. Their growing alarm at the gap in letters had been stoked by news from Europe of their oldest son. Edward had been wounded in action for the second time. On October 18 Eugene sent a brief note special delivery to let them know he was all right. The Red Cross distributed some stationery and he composed a longer letter. He apologized for the delay, for he knew how concerned they were, "but we were always in action except for a little while here or there and there was no mail service." He assured them that his weekly letters would resume. Thoughts of his parents let his mind wander to the woods and fields around Georgia Cottage, where "fall is just breaking," and out of the tropics, where "it's always stifling and smelly." His father would soon be out in all those beautiful fall colors, with his new dogs, hunting. "Just realize how much I'd love to be with you," he wrote. He hoped Sid might get to join his father and asked that, if so, they take some photos. Gene also requested a picture of their new puppy. His parents had named their new dog Grunt.
On October 20 a brief ceremony took place at the U.S. Armed Forces Cemetery Peleliu Number One; 1,058 men from all service branches had been laid to rest about fifty yards inland from Orange Beach Two.386 Captain Haldane was buried just about exactly where he had led King Company ashore on D-day. If he attended, Gene would have dwelt once again on "Prelude," the Kipling poem that had been festering inside of him for four weeks:
I have eaten your bread and salt.
I have drunk your water and wine.
The deaths ye died I have watched beside,
And the lives ye led were mine.
Was there aught that I did not share
In vigil or toil or ease,--
One joy or woe that I did not know,
Dear hearts across the seas?
I have written the tale of our life
For a sheltered people's mirth,
In jesting guise--but ye are wise,
And ye know what the jest is worth.387
The enemy dead numbered approximately 10,685. The corpses not sealed inside their caves were dumped into mass graves at convenient locations by working parties from service units.388
ON OCTOBER 20 GENERAL MACARTHUR WADED ASHORE ON THE ISLAND OF LEYTE in the Philippines. In what was hailed as a daring move, MacArthur had bypassed the most southern island of the chain, Mindanao. His return received worldwide news coverage. The world considered it a dramatic step toward the end of the war. To Shifty Shofner, the man he reviled had chosen to invade a smaller and less important island. Skipping Mindanao meant that the hour of liberation for his friends in the Davao Penal Colony had been postponed. Their suffering would continue.
ALL THE INK DEVOTED TO THE ACCOUNTS OF MACARTHUR IN THE PHILIPPINES seemed to drive the Battle of Peleliu from the front pages of the newspapers. The reason for taking Peleliu, to protect MacArthur's flank while he invaded Mindanao, had obviously been rendered moot. As the men of King Company rested and read their mail and listened to the news, these two facts were clear to all who paid attention. Gene Sledge paid attention and the thought of all that sacrifice having been in vain engendered within him a profound bitterness. "It was all for nothing."389
Gene and his friends would have also noted unhappily that the units around the airfield and the rest of the Fifth Marines at Purple Beach enjoyed a higher standard of living than the 3/5 up on the northern tip of Peleliu. Where they were, enemy stragglers came down out of the hills occasionally. It never occurred to the enlisted men to try to get the Japanese to surrender. The marines shot them immediately.390 Burgin watched his friend Jim Burke casually borrow a rifle from a bystander, shoot a Japanese wading in the sea, and say thank you as he handed the weapon back. Watching Jim shoot to kill, Burgin was struck by "how damn calm he was."391
Ten days of rest made barely a dent in their exhaustion. On October 27, trucks drove them out to Purple Beach. The 3/5 rejoined the rest of its regiment. A fleet of DUKWs began driving the regiment out to the troopship bit by bit.392 King Company assembled on the beach and Sledge watched as "some joker broke out an old box camera from
somewhere and took a posed picture of the survivors of K Co."393 More than a few managed to smile.
The Fifth Regiment had come to Peleliu in three troop transports and six LSTs. The "survivors," as Sledge called them, fit aboard one ship, USS Sea Runner.394 They struggled to climb the net from the DUKW up to the deck. The men of the 3/5 reported to compartment A2 of the ship, put their gear on their bunks and stood by until all men were loaded and the regulations were issued. The hours for chow were announced and each man would get in line with his mess kit and his new mess card. Marines from 3rd Battalion would stand guard duty on days five and six. All troops would stand inspection daily at ten thirty a.m. A security inspection would be held at ten p.m. At least servings of cold milk and fresh bread followed the regimentation. High seas slowed the loading of their gear and two days of regimented life aboard Sea Runner passed before she finally weighed anchor.395 Scuttlebutt had it that they were headed for Australia.
The crew of Sea Runner kept the ship's clocks accurate as they crossed time zones, which meant waking the marines up an hour earlier on some mornings, a requirement sure to make the troops unhappy. The ship steamed into Pavuvu's Macquitti Bay on November 7. The 3/5 unloaded before noon to find large quantities of mail, beer, Coke, and rotation lists waiting for them.396 Most of the men who had joined up after the attack on Pearl Harbor and who had fought on Guadalcanal found their names on the rotation lists. With a few exceptions, they were going home. The first shipment of replacements had already arrived.397
As Gene disembarked, he saw a Red Cross woman serving the men a cold drink. The sight shocked him. He had seen American women on Pavuvu and at the big base on Guadalcanal. His world of anguish, however, could not admit the beauty and civilization she represented. "She's got no more business here than some damn politician," he thought. A lieutenant saw Sledge hesitate and said, "OK, sonny, move out." Sledge turned to see the untanned skin and crisp uniform of "a brand- spanking new boot-lieutenant."398 The new officer looked into the veteran's eyes and saw nothingness. The sight made the lieutenant uncomfortable and he quickly found something else to do. The moment represented part of what Eugene Sledge had wanted to gain by being a marine: the self-confidence of the combat veteran. As it turned out, though, the blank stare came not from the easy calmness of one who had been tested and knew his own courage. Scenes of naked atrocity clouded his vision, producing an inability to care.
LIEUTENANT MICHEEL ARRIVED BACK IN ALAMEDA, CALIFORNIA, ON NOVEMBER 1, 1944, much as he had in December of 1942. This time, however, he was prepared for the quick sorting job the navy was going to give the veterans of Bombing Two. He made some phone calls: to his girlfriend, Jean Miller, in Philadelphia and to his old skipper, Ray Davis, still flying a desk at a base near Norfolk. On November 2, Lieutenant Micheel was ordered to report to NAS Jacksonville, Florida. Mike was going to be an instructor after he enjoyed a one-month furlough. He asked for and received permission to travel by personal transportation, but he took a train home to Davenport. He saw his parents and he paid another visit to John Lough's parents.
Trading in the '36 Dodge coupe he had stored in a shed for a newer Dodge sedan required only a little cash. Getting gasoline was the trick, since it was still rationed, much to everyone's disgust. The navy had given him some coupons, but not enough to drive to Jacksonville, Florida, by way of Pennsylvania. Waiting for him when he arrived in Davenport, though, was an envelope of gas cards supplied by Jean's father. Jean's enclosed note had a funny story about how her dad had finagled the extra coupons. The cards gave Micheel enough gas to get to Philadelphia, where he spent a long weekend with Jean and her family. He drove to Norfolk to spend a night catching up with Ray, who gave him enough cards for the drive to Jacksonville.
ON NOVEMBER 2, 1944, MAJOR GENERAL WILLIAM RUPERTUS REPORTED ON THE fitness of Lieutenant Colonel Austin Shofner, who was on the division staff. In many ways, Shofner had improved. Most of the categories were now marked "Excellent," including training of troops, handling of men and handling of officers, and he earned a mark of "Outstanding" in loyalty. The provost marshal fell down to "Very Good" in cooperation, in intelligence, judgment, presence of mind, and leadership. For all that he liked about Shofner, Rupertus believed that "as previously reported, his experience as a POW has made this individual highly excitable." While Shofner's incarceration had "not affected his courage or devotion to duty," the general recommended more recuperation for Shofner before he again saw combat. General Rupertus wrote the fitness report on the day he himself was relieved of his command and summarily shipped stateside for his own failure on Peleliu.
Soon after his return to Pavuvu, Shofner also received a letter from the office of the Commandant of the Marine Corps regarding his claim for reimbursement of the personal property he had been forced to abandon in Olongapo on Christmas Day 1941. While his personal clothing, including a number of exotic items, such as a white sharkskin suit, fell within the corps' guidelines, a lot of items did not appear on the "approved schedule of allowances," including the selection of women's lace negligees, the collection of women's handbags, and the elegant household items like the carved ivory elephants. The director of personnel had decided not to factor in the "depreciation" that Shofner had included in his claim, however, and awarded him every last cent of the claim, $2,621.90.
Lieutenant Colonel Shofner had a visit from one of his former sergeants, Hank Boyes of K/3/5. Hank had recovered from his wounds and had come to ask for help. Sergeant Boyes told Shifty a story about D-day, when he had used a tank to clear out some key enemy emplacements. "I got up on the tank," Boyes reported, "and told him [the tank commander] we were K-3rd but I didn't say 5th [regiment] and he was still with us till 2pm and out of ammo before he found out we were not the 7th Marines."399 Put another way, Hank had used a little trickery to keep the tank around to help King in combat. When the tank commander, a Sergeant Meyers, found out the truth, he had raced back toward his assigned regiment, but not before Meyers's superior officer had noticed his absence. Meyers now faced a court-martial. Shifty enjoyed Hank's story and was happy to tell Meyers's CO that his tanker had not been derelict in his duty. The charges against Meyers were thrown out.
PAVUVU DID NOT LOOK SO BAD TO EUGENE SLEDGE NOW. NO INFILTRATORS INTERRUPTED his sleep. In a rather amazing display of devotion, his parents had sent him eighteen packages while he was in combat. He did not reply immediately, however. He slept, munched on snacks, took two to three showers per day, and began reading some of the new magazines and letters. The Mobile Press had Peleliu as a front-page story.400 It stressed "the most crushing aerial bombardment" that had preceded the invasion. Gene would have noticed a critical fact that probably escaped most readers: the nine-day preinvasion bombardment had been focused not on Peleliu, but "on Babelthuap, largest of the Palaus." The newspaper assured its readers that the Marine Corps had "coordinated" its offensive against the enemy stronghold "with General MacArthur."
The Mobile newspapers carried a lot of stories about the U.S. Army's march across France, where his older brother Edward served. Among the many letters Eugene opened from his parents, one informed him that Edward had been promoted to captain. A letter from Sidney Phillips described how he had almost been killed by a hurricane at his base in Boca Chica. All of the personnel of the naval air station and all of their airplanes had been evacuated in advance of the powerful storm--all except for the marines, who had been left there to guard whatever survived. Sid wrote his story as if it was a hilarious joke.
Eugene did not feel much like writing. The Marine Corps' birthday on November 10, an anniversary that had merited an effusive letter a year ago, passed without mention. He went to see Sid's friends in H/2/1. He had to find out how Sid's friends had fared. Among the men he said hello to would have been Deacon, who had survived Peleliu and was waiting for a trip home. The 1st Division had never suffered casualties like it had on Peleliu and a lot of marines felt a similar need. All over the island, men were showing up at other companies
to check on a buddy. Bill Leyden, one of King Company's riflemen, went around asking after friends. Some were in the hospital on the island of Banika nearby. Others had been wounded so bad they were on a ship bound for the States. Often, though, he asked about a good friend and "his buddies would--in the tent--would tell you how it happened to him and then you'd stare . . . and they'd say, sit down and they'd offer you a beer if they had a beer . . . because they knew just how you felt. And then you'd leave and go back to your outfit." Gene already had heard a fair amount about the fate of the First Marines. Deacon's 2/1 had suffered higher casualties in five days on Peleliu than the 3/5 had in thirty. As a veteran, Deacon had been shocked by the enemy's fortifications that had withstood the relentless pounding. Peleliu, he concluded, had been "Japan's Corregidor."
The first time Sledge put pen to paper would have been to capture some of the specifics of the battles of Peleliu and Ngesebus. 401 The memories he could not forget, but the details would be lost if not recorded, and E. B. Sledge understood the importance of the details. After a few weeks, he began to write his parents regularly again. The belated birthday wishes from his parents began to arrive in late November and their love moved him. He responded in kind. The seashells he had collected on Peleliu had survived and he had them strung into a necklace for his mother. "I carried them through that operation & Ngesebus," he told her. "I hope because those dainty little seashells came from such a dreadful place that you won't fail to see their beauty and know . . . you were in my mind continually." As he was writing a letter to his parents, the mail call came. As usual, he was handed a package. It contained a Colt .45 automatic pistol--just the thing for nights in combat. While he shared the goodies with his tent mates, the .45 became "the apple of my eye. I care for it like a baby." The pistol represented the deep connection between them and their shared love of hunting. "Pop, I know I'm closer to you than many boys dream of being with their fathers."