Shadow Warriors

by Dick Camp

  The battalion official report noted, “Fifteen of eighteen boats landed on the intended beach. Two boats landed about a mile to the northwest, but the occupants joined our main force during the fire fight. The other boat [Peatross and eleven men] landed over a mile to the southwest, which placed this group in the rear of the enemy when the battle started.” Peatross soon found the two boats with the medical supplies and weapons that had earlier broken away but, “the only sounds we heard were our own voices, the roar of the surf, and the squawking of the sea birds … it was becoming more and more apparent that we had landed in the wrong place.” Meanwhile the two companies landed right where they were supposed to but were badly intermingled. Private Brian Quirk summed it up. “The landing was all mixed up. Everything was in total disarray. It took us a while to get some sense of organization. Guys were running around in the dark making things even more confused. We decided to wait until dawn to get organized, so we just stayed where we were.”

  If the chaotic organization on the beach was not enough, an automatic weapon fired about 0530, just before dawn. Smith wrote, “Suddenly a burst of fire from a Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) split the air. Carlson ran toward the sound, trying to find out if the gunfire was coming from the Japanese. He was soon told that it had come from a Raider (Pfc. Vern Mitchell) who apparently had allowed the bolt to slam shut when he loaded a magazine.” Wukovits wrote that, “For the only time in his career, Carlson swore at one of his men.” Everyone was exasperated. “They might as well just blow a bugle that says we’re here, come find us,” Private Quirk exclaimed, “We haven’t even left the beach and we told them where we are.” There was nothing Carlson could do except get his command off the beach. He ordered Lieutenant Plumly’s Company “A” to move across the island, seize the road on the lagoon side and report his location with relation to the wharves, while he placed Captain Coyte’s Company “B” in reserve and directed it to provide security for the left flank. In frustration, Carlson radioed the Nautilus, “Everything lousy!”

  Lieutenant Plumly picked LeFrancois’s 1st Platoon to take the point. “He told me the colonel wanted to know where we were, and that he wished us to contact the enemy … ,” LeFrancois recalled. “Sergeant Clyde Thomason led the reconnoitering groups across the island, following the course of a shallow ditch for cover.” Dawn was breaking as the Raiders worked their way toward the road. Within minutes the platoon spotted the dilapidated government pier jutting out into the lagoon, the island’s flagpole and the Government House. LeFrancois and Thomason crept forward. “We were doing fine,” LeFrancois said, “when two blasts roared from the left and double-O buckshot sprayed the wooden shack near us. Thomason shouted the password ‘Gung’ to keep our men from shooting at us in a cross fire. Then to our amazement, the countersign ‘Ho’ was shouted to us … and out came Charley Lamb [Lt. Charles] with two men. He had taken our shadowy forms for those of Japs.” Small groups of Raiders were bent on carrying out their original instructions and were unaware that Carlson had changed them—Company “B” was originally assigned to be the lead element, not Company “A.”

  A boat team from Company “A” landed some distance from the main body and proceeded up the middle of the island. “We came to the road … headed north, with half the squad on each side,” Sgt. James Faulkner explained. “Just as it was breaking daylight we sighted a bicycle coming up the road. When he got even with us we stepped out into the road and stopped him.” Captain Holtom, who spoke and read Japanese fluently, happened to be with the squad and pointed out that a sign on the bike read, “Japanese Chief of Police.” As they continued toward the Government House, their attention was diverted by shots. The prisoner took this opportunity to run … but he didn’t get far before the Raiders opened fire and killed “the only prisoner taken in the operation.”

  As the platoon continued up the road, “A group of tall, well-built native men, women, and children was coming down it,” LeFrancois recalled. “Apparently they had taken our firing for Japanese practice maneuvers. When they saw us they were startled but quickly became friendly.” The natives told the Raiders that the Japanese were located near On Chong’s Wharf and that they had been on alert for the past couple of weeks expecting some kind of attack. Their estimates of Japanese strength varied from 80 to more than 150, which matched the intelligence report. The information was sent back to Carlson, who radioed the Nautilus to fire on the suspected enemy location. The Nautilus report stated, “At 0656 request was received from commanding officer Raider unit to open fire with deck guns on lake area off Ukiangoag Point … at 0703 starting [firing] at the extreme end of the point and working down it about a mile. A total twelve salvoes or twenty-four rounds were fired.”

  Shortly after the first request for fire, Nautilus received another. “Colonel Carlson requested [us] to take two merchant ships under fire. This presented a difficult gunnery problem, as no point of aim in deflection was presented due to lack of distinguishable landmarks, and the Nautilus’ own position was only apparently known. … [A]t this time communication with the shore failed. … [F]ire was opened at 0716 and a total of twenty-three salvoes or forty-six rounds were fired …” Admiral Nimitz reported, “Both ships were hit and set on fire, and later sunk. One was a 3,500-ton ship, which the natives stated quartered sixty Marines. The other was a 1,500-ton patrol vessel.” Immediately after ceasing fire, both submarines submerged because of an air threat and, “remained submerged for the remainder of the [day] as continued presence of enemy aircraft was anticipated to within two hours of darkness.”

  LeFrancois was uneasy after talking with the natives. “I wanted to be on our way,” he said, “alert for a possible Jap ambush.” The platoon continued to comb the area for Japanese. “We had just passed a group of fifteen shacks near a long house … when suddenly the point hit the ground and the rest of us followed suit.” A truckload of Japanese appeared some distance away and stopped in the middle of the road. “The Japs jumped out of it and were joined by others, a total of more than thirty in all. They planted a large rising sun flag and ducked into the bushes beside the road.” LeFrancois immediately deployed his platoon to take advantage of the terrain. “I could see the Japs creeping toward us in bunches along the narrow hundred-yard strip of trees and light brush between the road and the lagoon. They were perfect targets and were walking into a trap.” He moved his left flank closer to the point so that his lines formed “sort of a pocket with frontal and a flanking fire to welcome the Nips. It was a perfect setup!”

  Sergeant Thomason was in position to spring the ambush. “Let ’em have it!” he shouted. LeFrancois exclaimed, “There was about four minutes of inferno in which everybody in the area was blasting away at somebody or something. Anything out in the open was riddled. Then we realized we were the only ones making any noise, and let up. Later, I found our fire had been so deadly that this Jap combat group in its entirely had seen its last battle.” That didn’t end the threat however.

  “A shot rang out … and all hell broke loose,” Cpl. Howard Young recalled. “We had Japs in front of us, above us, alongside of us to our left and behind us also to our left. Two machine guns were sweeping the area above our heads; slugs were chunking into the bases of the palm trees. Snipers were coming very close …”

  LeFrancois recalled, “… [E]nemy snipers were taking a grim toll. One slug kicked up dirt in my mouth. Then came a ‘thunk,’ [and] they got Thomason. I inched my way over to him and felt his pulse. There was no heartbeat.”

  SERGEANT CLYDE A. THOMASON

  For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while a member of the Second Marine Raider Battalion in action against the Japanese-held island of Makin on August 17–18, 1942. Landing the advance element of the assault echelon, Sergeant Thomason disposed his men with keen judgment and discrimination and by his exemplary leadership and great personal valor, exhorted them to like fearless efforts. On one occasion, he dauntlessly walke
d up to a house which concealed an enemy Japanese sniper, forced in the door and shot the man before he could resist. Later in the action, while leading an assault on enemy position, he gallantly gave up his life in the service of his country. His courage and loyal devotion to duty in the face of grave peril were in keeping with the finest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

  Snipers posed a major threat, particularly to radiomen, officers, and noncommissioned officers like Thomason, who was killed while leading his men. Many of the snipers were hidden in the tops of palm trees, concealed by the heavy foliage, their mustard-green uniforms blended right in with the tree growth. “I can say that the Japanese were near perfect at concealment and camouflage,” Platoon Sgt. Melvin Spotts said. “I only got one shot at a visible target; the rest of my firing was at things that could have been Japs but probably weren’t.” A sniper targeted Sgt. Victor Maghakian. “One picked me out and his shot caught me in the right arm. My arm went dead almost immediately but I still had the full use of my left as I dropped to the ‘deck’ and played dead for fifteen minutes until another shot by him revealed his position. When he showed himself I silenced him with my automatic rifle.” The battalion intelligence officer was the victim of a sniper. LeFrancois recalled hearing a shout. “[Captain] Holtom has been shot and is dying! He needs medical attention!” Then came slowly the words, “Never mind!” Carlson noted, “[T]he bullet passed through his left chest and emerged behind the right shoulder. He lived only ten seconds.”

  Raising Cain

  Lieutenant Peatross and his boat team had unknowingly landed behind the Japanese and were approaching the enemy barracks when LeFrancois’s group started shooting. “… [A] very startled Japanese soldier burst from the barracks, his rifle firmly gripped at the ready, prepared to fire at anything coming his way. Without command and almost as one, three of our thirteen-man group fired, and the luckless Japanese fell to the ground dead … the first shots that any of us had fired in the war.” The group continued scouting the road after searching the barracks. “We suddenly noticed some movement about four hundred yards down the road. … [A] Japanese with his rifle slung across his back came out of the bushes, picked up a bicycle, mounted it, and swiftly pedaled down the road in our direction.” A Raider fired and missed. “… [T]he man [Japanese] ever so carefully laid down his bicycle, as if fearful of damaging the Emperor’s property, unslung his rifle, calmly and almost deliberately walked to the side of the road, as if to select a position before he could get off a shot, however, four Raiders on the right fired at him, and in the dust raised by their fire, we saw him crumple.” Two other cyclists were also killed, each oblivious to their dead comrades lying in the road.

  The squad crossed the road and entered what had been described as the headquarters of the island commander. “We advanced upon it very cautiously,” Peatross explained, “prepared to charge if necessary. But not a shot was fired, so we entered and conducted a thorough search.” They discovered a radio set, which one of the Raiders got working, and a steel safe. “We spent several precious minutes listening on several channels, hoping to pick up some of our own radio traffic, but all we heard was Japanese. … [We] turned our attention to the safe, broke it open and found a bundle of Japanese bank notes and a quart-size bag of coins. Sam Brown [Cpl.], the safe-cracker and, hence, custodian of the cash, passed out the bank notes and a few coins, as if it were payday.…” As they approached another house just a few yards away, “a man dressed in a white shirt, khaki shorts, and a sun helmet … walked out of the house onto the porch and waved toward the area from which the bicyclists had come, as if signaling. Sam Brown immediately fired on the man killing him.” Years later Peatross found out Brown had killed the island commander, WO Kanemitsu. Sometime earlier, a message was intercepted from Kanemitsu to the 6th Base Force stating prophetically, “All men are dying serenely in battle.”

  No sooner had Brown killed the Japanese commander than the squad received a “heavy volume of machine gun fire,” which cost the lives of three Raiders and several wounded before the gun was knocked out. “With the rest of us providing such supporting fire as we could, Castle [Cpl. Vernon] crawled and dragged himself on toward the enemy position, firing his Thompson submachine gun as he advanced,” Peatross said. “With complete disregard for his own personal safety, ignoring wounds that proved to be mortal, and by almost superhuman effort, he struggled close enough to the enemy position to throw a hand grenade, killing the gunner and two of the crewmen. The rest of us shot two riflemen positioned near the gun.” About an hour later, Peatross was amazed to see a small Japanese car tearing down the road. “As it roared past us at full throttle, we all fired … it ran off the road and turned over … riddled with bullet holes, both the driver and his passenger were dead.” About 1500, the squad discovered an abandoned Chevrolet truck bearing USMC markings. Peatross thought it may have been one captured on Wake Island.

  After trying unsuccessfully to link up with the main body, Peatross’s group made their way back to the beach and prepared their rubber boat for the withdrawal in accordance with the battalion order. “We watched the surf for about fifteen minutes to get a feel for the timing of the waves,” Peatross said, “looking for the fifth wave which is usually smaller than the rest … [and] dragged the boat across the beach and into the water. Wading and pushing until we reached the surf, we piled in one at a time, grabbed our paddles, and dug in for all we were worth. We motored through the last breaker and into the open sea without mishap.” Shortly thereafter, they spotted the Nautilus’ green signal light and pulled alongside to unload. “I enquired about the rest of our force and felt a pang of vague uneasiness when the commodore told me that my boat was the only one to have made it back so far.”

  Trouble in River City

  Starting around 1030 and lasting off and on until 1700, three groups of Japanese aircraft bombed and strafed the island. The first group, two Type 94 Nakajima three-seat reconnaissance floatplanes, dropped two bombs and after about fifteen minutes flew away. A second flight of twelve aircraft—two Type 2 Kawanishi four-motor flying boats, four zero fighters, four Type 94 Nakajima biplanes, and two Navy Type 95 Nakajima reconnaissance seaplanes—bombed and strafed for over an hour, without causing any Raider casualties. “I was really glad when that plane got past me without hitting anything with his bullets when all of a sudden the lead was flying again,” Carson said. “There was a machine gunner in the rear of the plane and he was getting his jollies blasting the hell out of the road as the plane pulled up.” LeFrancois recalled, “They strafed and bombed us, dropping sticks of antipersonnel bombs, but they missed us entirely.”

  Suddenly, to the amazement of the Raiders, two of the aircraft landed in the lagoon off Stone Pier. “It was a sight for sore eyes,” LeFrancois exclaimed. “A four-motored transport had started to land on the water, and some of our machine guns and anti-tank guns, as well as a few rifles, opened up on it. The tracers streamed across the water and hit squarely on the plane. It nosed up, caught fire, tipped to the left, and sank swiftly out of sight.” One of the aircraft tried to take off. Sergeant Buck Stidham fired at it with his .55-caliber Boyes anti-tank gun. “I kept firing … and got off thirty to forty aimed shots before the plane approached takeoff speed.” Several men reported seeing it crash. “I am quite sure I hit it several times and like to think I had a small part in crashing it,” he said. Nimitz reported that the large seaplane was bringing reinforcements. The final air attack occurred about 1630 and lasted for thirty minutes.

  Spiritual Low Point

  Shortly after the last air raid, Carlson began shifting the Raiders back to the beach and was ready to embark in the boats at 1930. Carlson thought it was the best time because “darkness had set in and the tide was high, enabling the boats to get over the reef. However, the speed of the waves and the rapid succession in which they followed each other had not been taken into account.” Platoon Sergeant Spotts recalled, “Huge waves broke about a hundred yards from t
he beach and kept coming in rapidly with a very short interval between them. We would paddle until we struck the point where the surf broke. From there it was just a matter of time before we ended up back at the beach again. In my boat, we tried to get off for about five hours … finally around midnight we gave up and decided to wait until morning when the tide changed.”

  Carlson noted his boat’s experience, which seemed to reflect the average struggle. “We walked the boat out to deep water and commenced paddling. The motor refused to work. The first three or four rollers were easy to pass. Then came the battle. Paddling rhythmically and furiously for all we were worth we would get over one roller only to get hit and thrown back by the next before we could gain momentum. The boat filled to the gunwales. We bailed. We got out and swam while pulling the boat—to no avail. We jettisoned the motor. Subsequently the boat turned over. We righted it, less equipment, and continued the battle. All this time I thought ours was the only boat having this difficulty, for all the others had left ahead of us. However, after nearly an hour of struggle men swam up to our stern and reported that their boat had gone back because the men were exhausted … I directed our boat be turned around and returned to the beach for our men were equally exhausted.”

  Only four boats made it to the Nautilus and three to the Argonaut. Peatross met them on deck. “I could see the worn faces and exhausted bodies of the men with whom the trials of the day had played havoc … [L]ater arrivals looked like zombies. … [T]hey had lost everything: weapons, equipment, shoes, and clothing, and above all their sense of unity.” About 120 men remained on the beach, disorganized and dispirited. Carlson noted, “Rain and the fact that most of the men had stripped themselves of their clothes in the surf added to the general misery. This was the spiritual low point of the expedition.” More importantly, many of the men had lost their weapons and were now helpless if the Japanese attacked. Late that night, “One man [Pvt. Jess Hawkins] who was posted as security above the beach line was challenged by a Japanese patrol of eight men,” Carlson reported. “He was seriously wounded but managed to kill three of [the] enemy.” Spotts recalled, “We must have scored several hits for they squealed like stuck hogs and didn’t bother us in this position again.” The action caused Carlson to write, “This incident showed that enemy resistance was by no means ended.” Carlson was convinced that a large number of the enemy was left and the surviving Raiders would be at the “tender” mercies of them come daylight.