A Tomb Called Iwo Jima

by King, Dan

  The plane captain of Betty No. 2 in the element was navigator Ensign Masayoshi Nemoto, a graduate of the 13th Naval Reserve Class. As the plane captain, Ensign Nemoto was responsible for the ship and crew. Prior to coming to Iwo Jima, Nemoto had been on Luzon Island when, on January 9, 1945, General Douglas MacArthur fulfilled his famous promise to the people of the Philippines, "I shall return." Nemoto was one of the many Japanese naval aviators whose planes were demolished by American air raids. In order to evade capture, the aviators marched north to Tuguegarao Airfield where most were evacuated to Taiwan. Also on the long march were Zero pilots Kazuo Tsunoda, Isamu Iwakura, Toshimitsu Imaizumi, and Pearl Harbor veteran Haruo Yoshino.78

  PO1/c Iwao Yamada was one of two wireless operators assigned to Ensign Nemoto's plane. Iwao Yamada decided to enlist after the Pearl Harbor raid, but had to wait until he was old enough. He said he was shocked because there were Japanese on the islands making a living as farmers, businessmen, fishermen, etc. "The Hawaiian Islands were a place to build one's dreams. I didn't know why we attacked Pearl Harbor, but I felt it was my duty to join up," Yamada said. On April 1, 1943, one month shy of his seventeenth birthday, hoping to become a pilot, Yamada took and passed the Navy's Yokaren Youth Aviation Course exam.[53] However, after basic training he learned he hadn't made the final cut for the pilots course, so he became a flying radioman. After completing the abbreviated wartime Yokaren course in March 1944, Iwao Yamada went on to his final phase of practical training in Betty bombers with the K704th Attack Squadron.

  There was a different unit that normally conducted transportation runs to and from Iwo Jima; the 1023rd Naval Air Group that flew the Nakajima L2D Tabby, but due to crippling losses, the cargo planes were restricted to domestic transport duties. In February 1945, the K704th squadron received a special mission to deliver critical supplies to Iwo Jima. Yamada said, "We had the newer Model-22 version of the Betty." It was equipped with aerial radar, engines with increase horsepower, increased defensive firepower, self-sealing fuel tanks, and armor for the fuel tanks and crew. "We we had a better chance at getting through the blockade than the transport planes," Yamada said.

  The February 10th mission was carefully timed so the Bettys would be in and out of Iwo Jima before the daily arrival of American planes from the Mariana Islands. However, there was an unfortunate snafu in the loading process. In their haste, eager sailors incorrectly loaded one of the bombers, so they had to empty and re-load it. This cost valuable time that carved away at the already slim margin of safety. "That loading error would cost the lives of a lot of men," Yamada said.

  Yamada recalled being nervous enough about going to Iwo Jima without fighter escorts, but the foul up made him downright fidgety. His nerves were further frayed because his plane was loaded with one ton of ammunition. The Betty bomber was notorious for going up in flames, and with this much ammunition on board it would take only a single trigger pull from an enemy fighter to send them all to kingdom come.

  The five bombers made the trip to Iwo Jima without incident. However, during Yamada's final approach to Chidori Airfield, some of the ammunition shifted which disrupted the plane's center of gravity. Lacking enough air speed to come around for a second attempt, the pilot was forced to make a hard landing that damaged the tail wheel. The plane ground to a loud and abrupt stop. On initial inspection, Yamada was concerned they would be stranded because the broken tail wheel had gouged a long furrow in the runway.

  Ensign Ōmagari's eager ground crews set to work divesting the Bettys of their bounty. Ōmagari's men were motivated to work fast because it wouldn't be long before the punctual Americans showed up to wreck the airfield. Ōmagari recalled inspecting the contents of the first bomber that landed and noticed a nostalgic, sweet fragrance. He traced the grassy aroma to the deck of the bomber; stored under the crates of vegetables, bottles of water and wooden crates of ammunition, were bundles of six-foot long freshly cut bamboo stalks that could have passed for mono hoshizawa clothes drying poles. Ōmagari scratched his head wondering what he was supposed to do with the bamboo poles. Do we plant them around the bunkers to grow camouflage? Are we supposed to hang our uniforms on them?

  It seemed odd, so he interrupted the nearest airman's conversation, "Say there, what's with the laundry poles?" to which the airman replied, "They say you're supposed to make spears with them."79

  Ōmagari repeated the words in disbelief as his face grew flush with anger, "Is this some kind of a joke? Bamboo spears? You can't be serious." The rest of the aircrew averted his gaze. With a wave of his arm and a sharp cluck of his tongue, Ōmagari ordered his men to discard the poles by the side of the airfield.

  Decades later, Ōmagari spoke about the incident, "Even a child would understand that the cargo space should have been used to transport something more important. The men were dying of thirst, with barely enough ammunition for a brief firefight and they sent us ‘panda food'. Someone had to harvest, tie, and transport those bamboo poles to Kisarazu Airfield. Someone had to unload, count, inventory, and handle the poles before they were put on the bombers. At no point did anyone stop to think if we needed bamboo poles? Did no one think that more rifles and ammunition would have been a better idea? (Only one-third of his aircraft maintenance men had rifles.) If weight was a problem, how about loading more dehydrated foods, powdered soup stock, or hardtack biscuits? The airmen risked their lives for bamboo spears. Our men were starving and they sent us panda food?"

  Almost 70 years later, Ōmagari is still upset about the bamboo incident. He said it was if the Japanese Imperial General Staff was still fighting the last war, where bayonet attacks were the norm. Ōmagari said, "I accepted the fact we were expendable, but why not give us proper tools with which to fight? Did they expect our soldiers to hide in caves with poles sticking out like sea urchins? I get a knot in my stomach whenever I pass the bamboo grove near my home. It reminds me of the day we unloaded the spears."

  As radioman Yamada's plane was being unloaded, the flight engineer asked the ground crew to change the spark plugs in the starboard engine; it was running rough. What the engine needed was a thorough once-over but there was no time for that. Other maintenance men set to work repairing the tail wheel, which would take some time. Lieutenant Hanazawa decided to have all of his planes take off together rather then leave one plane behind. It would prove to be a decision that nearly fifty airmen would not live to regret.

  Knowing they had an hour or more to kill, Yamada's crew sat down with their box lunches in the shade of some large bushes and a copse of trees at the edge of the airfield. The airmen were happy to dig in to their special three-tiered bentō lunches. The food was prepared for them back at Kisarazu Air Base to commemorate "National Foundation Day." Their crew chief wasn't confident the Bettys would make it back for the actual celebration the following day, so he ordered the special lunches for them to enjoy a day early.

  No sooner had Yamada cracked the lid on his lunch box than it was covered with aggressive blowflies. The Betty crewmen all swatted away the disgusting pests but soon noticed it wasn't just the flies that took an interest in their meals. A small knot of gaunt soldiers emerged from behind an aircraft revetment, with questions of home and glancing looks at forgotten delicacies. One of the aviators polished off his lunch, and without thinking, tossed the square tray aside. A skinny soldier leapt on it, scraping out the last bits of rice that was stuck in the corners. Yamada said, "I suddenly felt ashamed. We handed them what was left of our lunches." He also gave away a pack of cigarettes; a bottle of lemon-flavored soda, a box of caramels and a small bag of rock candy from his emergency flight ration kit.

  On the airfield, the planes were being loaded with a group of wounded men. Yamada watched a parade of sick and wounded men limp and hobble towards the planes for the trip home. Ensign Nemoto was disturbed by what he witnessed during the loading process of Lieutenant Shigeru Hanazawa's lead plane. On the heels of the last wo
unded man to climb aboard, an army officer arrived claiming to have urgent reports requiring hand delivery. One of the wounded men was pulled off the plane to make room for the officer. Ensign Nemoto and Yamada both wrote that they were angry about this event.

  Fifteen sickly men lined up at Ensign Nemoto's plane patiently waiting to board. However, after consulting with the maintenance chief regarding the status of the starboard engine, Ensign Nemoto had to make a painful decision, he couldn't risk taking them all. He counted off the first five wounded and then lowered his arm. The others looked at him with pleading eyes, but all Nemoto could do was apologize and explain they could only take five men because of an unreliable engine. He told the remaining wounded not to worry because another flight would arrive soon. After the five wounded men were carefully helped into Nemoto's plane, a military postal clerk dropped off a sack of outgoing mail. The mailman was one of the civilian postal workers drafted into the military for their clerical work experience.

  Once all of the planes were loaded, Lieutenant Hanazawa gave the order to take off. Five pairs of 1,800 horsepower aircraft engines banged and growled back to life. Lieutenant Hanzawa taxied into the lead position, and prepared to take off. Behind him should have been Ensign Nemoto's plane, but the tail repairs had caused a delay that put Ensign Nemoto and his radioman Iwao Yamada in the tail end slot.

  Lieutenant Hanazawa's Betty took off followed by the second plane, but as the third plane lifted off the runway, it dipped its wing and fell out of sight as P-38 fighters flashed overhead. The American raiders had snuck in under the radar catching the Bettys flatfooted.

  The crews of the remaining two Bettys that were still on the ground cut their engines ran for shelter leaving the wounded men behind on the planes. The P-38s made one pass then vanished like phantoms. Lieutenant Hanazawa's plane managed to make it back to Japan, but the second and third Bettys that took off behind him went down into the sea taking their wounded men with them. By some miracle, the P-38s caused only minor damage to the two Bettys that were still on the ground. Yamada attributes it to divine intervention. It all happened in less time than it took to read this paragraph.

  The six P-38 pilots were from the US Army VII Air Force's 19th and 333rd Fighter Squadrons. They were conducting a fighter sweep as part of a photo-reconnaissance escort mission when they happened upon the Bettys: From the 19th Squadron were Lt Harry M. Stampme and 2nd Lt John R. Donahue; From the 333rd squadron were 1st Lt Wayne A. Duerschmidt, 2nd Lt Harry W. James, 1st Lt Everett Balkum, and Captain Judge Wolfe.80 The six pilots claimed a total of seven kills that day with each claiming a bomber or a fighter, with the last man claiming two victories.

  Yamada and Nemoto both stated that only two Bettys were shot down that day, so there is some confusion regarding the number of kills claimed by the P-38s. There might have been other aircraft in the air that Yamada was unaware of. Or perhaps the Americans claimed the other Bettys on the field as "kills." Confusion seems to be the very nature of war.

  On the flight back to Japan, Yamada stared at the white canvas mail sack stuffed with cards and letters. "After the war, I felt guilty. I should have made a list of some of the names on those cards. I could have contacted their families after the war and told them where their loved ones had died. But at the time I didn't know we'd be the very last plane off Iwo Jima," said Yamada.[54]

  According to K704th Squadron gunner Hikōji Nozaki, the following day there was talk of staging another mercy mission to Iwo Jima. "I was worried that it would be my crew's turn to go on the next trip, but we were determined to be too ‘green' for the supply mission," said Nozaki. In the end, Nozaki said that due to the threat of a sizable enemy fleet so close to Iwo Jima, further mercy supply missions were judged to be too risky.

  Prelude to Invasion

  On a transport ship headed for Iwo Jima, Private First Class Eric "Sonny" Ojerholm Jr. (D/2/27) penned a letter to his parents back in Newtown, Massachusetts.81 Out of respect, the missive is presented exactly as it was written by this man who quit college to enlist in the Marines:

  February 9, 1945 "En Route"

  Dear Folks,

  Hope my letters have been coming through halfway regularly so you wouldn't worry. Mother, daddy, Barbara, Joan, Michael, David and last but not least Ruthie, I hope you're all well and happy!

  Myself, at present, I'm aboard ship bound for combat & as fine as I could be under the circumstances!

  Needless to say, I miss you all very much & hope the day that I will see you all again isn't far distant.

  I have have tried to write a letter like this before & I don't know quite how to begin.

  Soon, in the very near future we will attack Japanese occupied & strongly fortified territory - that is obvious.

  That some of us won't be coming back is also quite obvious! It is going to be hot and heavy! I hope & pray – God willing. I'll be spared.

  I'm in the state of grace, & that fact alone gives me great consolation. I'm not going to try to tell you all that I'll not be scared. I'll be scared-stiff! I just hope I can give a good account of myself. In spite of my resignation to God's will, being in a state of grace, and a sort of fatalism, I don't want to die. I suppose that's just natural.

  But if the worst should occur, I really hope you'll not take it too hard - just pray for me. The only difficult thing for me will be missing you all because I love you all very much. Tonight, as I write this, you are all many thousands of miles away, but there are bonds & ties that time and space cannot diminish.

  By the time you get this letter you probably would have read of the strike of our outfit, so this will be old news but, this is the last chance I'll have to write for a long time.

  I can't think of much else to say except that the weather is fine and the chow exceptionally good.

  Guess that's about all for now. Write soon.

  Love to all,

  Sonny

  At 8:00 a.m., on February 13, 1945, As PFC Ojerholm and tens of thousands of Americans were steaming towards Iwo Jima, Admiral Ichimaru ordered a pair of Tenzan torpedo bombers out on a reconnaissance mission to the Mariana Islands. He was searching for the American Task Force that he suspected was coming to kick in his front door. Were the Americans actually going to Okinawa as predicted by Imperial General Headquarters, or coming to Iwo Jima? One of the planes was commanded by Lieutenant (jg) Bun Hayase, a young naval reserve officer, who at 11:30 a.m., tapped a coded message reporting on a massive enemy fleet that he discovered north of Saipan. It would turn out to be Admiral William "Spike" Blandy's Amphibious Support Force 52.2, which was scheduled for the invasion of Iwo Jima. Lieutenant Hayase returned to Iwo Jima and made a detailed report on his observations.

  The following day, Vice-Admiral Ichimaru ordered a high-speed Myrt recon plane, from the 102nd Hikōtai (752nd Naval Air Group at Kisarazu Air Base), to come to Iwo Jima to assist with tracking the enemy task force. At 11:15 a.m., the plane captain of the Myrt, Lieutenant (jg) Seijrō Narita, reported that he was trailing 170 ships moving northwest, eighty miles north of Saipan. He then vanished.

  Despite this information that Lieutenant Seijrō Narita and his pilot paid for with their lives, Imperial General Headquarters was still convinced that the Americans were heading to Okinawa. IGHQ was further convinced of the Okinawa aspect after they received a message that a US task force was spotted near Amami Ōshima Island, located over 100 miles north of Okinawa. The report, which was sent to Iwo Jima as proof of the Okinawa first theory, later proved to be inaccurate.

  Following the disappearance of Lieutenant Narita's Myrt, General Kuribayashi placed the entire island on full alert. Admiral Ichimaru once again called on Lieutenant (jg) Bun Hayase's pair of Jill torpedo bombers to find and track the US task force. The pair of planes reported seeing a large enemy formation of ships 150 miles south east of Iwo Jima, and then both aircraft disappeared without a t
race.

  Admiral Ichimaru ordered another Myrt from Kisarazu Air Base to assist in tracking the enemy fleet. Ensign Hiroki Otsubo spotted the Americans south east of Iwo Jima then joined the others on the growing list of those who went missing in action. Despite what Imperial General Headquarters claimed, there was no longer any doubt that the Americans were coming to Iwo Jima first.

  At noon on February 14th, Lieutenant Commander Sosonosuke Tachikawa ordered Ensign Satoru Ōmagari to plant makeshift landmines on Chidori Airfield that night. Ōmagari thought it was suicide so suggested, "If we do that, our aircraft won't able to use the airfield." Ōmagari reminded Tachikawa that all of their efforts had been to keep the airfield in operation. Tachikawa was unmoved, and repeated his order.

  At 5:00 p.m., Ōmagari loaded twenty men, with shovels and picks, into a pair of trucks and then headed to the bomb storage bunker to requisition thirty 60-kg aerial bombs, and an equal number of anti-vehicle yardstick mines.[55] He had his men dig holes in which they placed bombs topped with yardstick mines, and then covered them with soil. The yardstick mines alone were filled with enough picric acid explosives to disable a tank track, and it was hoped that the 60 kg aerial bombs beneath them would take care of the tanks' supporting troops. As his men worked, Ōmagari kept one eye on his men, and the other on the skies, anxiously scanning and listening for enemy night fighters. It was nearly 10:00 p.m., when Ōmagari called it quits. They were only able to plant twenty-four landmines. Ōmagari entered the Nanpō HQ bunker and presented the landmine map to LtCdr Tachikawa who scolded him for not planting all thirty of the mines. Ōmagari returned to his own bunker and sulked, the efforts and bravery of his men went unrecognized.