by Daniel Wrinn
General Schmidt made the 3rd Division attack in the center of his main effort. He gave the 3rd priority fire support from the corps artillery. He directed the other two divisions to allocate half of their regimental fire support to the center. The other commanders were not pleased. Neither the 4th Marine Division, who took heavy casualties in the Amphitheater, nor the 5th Division, who struggled to seize Nishi Ridge, wanted to dilute their organic fire support.
General Graves Erskine argued the main effort should receive the primary fire. Schmidt never solved this problem. His corps artillery was too late, and he needed twice as many battalions and bigger guns: the 8-inch howitzers, which the Marines had not yet fielded. Schmidt had plenty of naval gunfire support available and used it abundantly. But unless targets were in ravines facing the sea—he lost the advantage of observed direct fire.
General Schmidt’s fire support problems were eased on February 26. Two Marine observation planes flew in from the carrier Wake Island and were the first planes to land on Iwo’s recently recaptured, fire swept main airstrip. These were single-engine observation planes (Grasshoppers). They were followed the next day by similar planes from VMO-5. The pilots of these fragile planes had already had an exciting time in the waters off Iwo. Many were launched from the experimental catapult on LST-776: “like a peanut from a slingshot.”
All fourteen of these observation planes took heavy enemy fire airborne and while serviced on the airstrips. But these two squadrons flew 612 missions supporting all three divisions. Few units contributed as much to the eventual suppression of Kuribayashi’s murderous artillery fire. The mere presence of the small planes overhead caused Japanese gunners to cease fire and button-up against the inevitable counter-battery fire soon to follow. Grasshopper pilots would fly predawn or dust missions to extend a protective umbrella over the troops. This was risky flying because of Iwo’s unlit fields and snipers hidden in the hills.
When the 4th Marine Division finally secured Hill 382 at the highest point north of Suribachi, they still suffered heavy casualties moving through the Amphitheater against Turkey knob. The 5th Marine Division seized Nishi Ridge and bloodied themselves on Hill 362-A’s elaborate defenses. Colonel Tom Wornham, CO, 27th Marines: “they had interlocking fields of fire the likes of which I’d never seen before.”
General Cates redeployed the 28th Marines into the fight. On March 2, an enemy gunner fired a high-velocity shell that killed Colonel Chandler Johnson one week after his glorious seizure of the Suribachi Summit. The 28th Marines captured Hill 362-A—at the cost of 200 casualties.
The same day, Colonel Lowell English, CO 2/21 Marines, took a bullet in his knee. Colonel English was upset that his battalion was not rotating to the rear: “We took heavy casualties and were disorganized. I had less than 300 Marines left of the 1,200 I came ashore with.” Colonel English received orders to turn his Marines around and plug a gap in the front lines. “It was an impossible order. I couldn’t move that disorganized battalion a mile back to the north in thirty minutes.”
But General Erskine did not want excuses: “tell that God-damned English he’d better be there.”
Colonel English replied: “you tell that son of a bitch I will be there, and I was, but my men were still half a mile behind me, and I got a hole in my knee!”
The 26th Marines fought their bloodiest and most successful attack of the battle on the left flank—finally securing Hill 362-B. This all-day battle cost 500 Marine casualties and produced five Medals of Honor. For Captain Frank Caldwell of Company F, 1/26 Marines, it was the worst day of his life. His company took forty-nine casualties on that hill—as well as the first sergeant and all the original platoon commanders.
The first nine days of the V Amphibious Corps’ northern drive produced a net gain of only 4,000 yards at a horrific cost of 7,000 Marine casualties. Several of these pitched battles in The Meatgrinder would’ve been worthy of a separate book. The fighting was one of the most brutal and bloody in the Marine Corps’ history.
On D +13, March 4, came the turning point. After alarming and frightful losses, Marines had torn through a substantial chunk of General Kuribayashi’s primary defenses. Forcing the enemy commander to shift his command post to a northern cave. On this afternoon, the first crippled B-29 landed. In terms of Allied morale, it couldn’t have come at a better time. General Schmidt ordered a standdown on March 5 to enable the exhausted assault forces a brief rest and the opportunity to absorb replacements.
The issue of replacement troops throughout this battle is controversial—even seventy-seven years later. General Schmidt had suffered losses approaching the equivalent of an entire division (6,561 Marines). Schmidt urged Holland Smith to release the 3rd Marines. While each division had been assigned several thousand Marine replacements, Schmidt wanted the cohesion and combat experience of Colonel Jim Stewart’s regimental combat team. Holland Smith argued the replacements would suffice and believed that each replacement Marine in these hybrid units had received sufficient infantry training to enable his immediate assignment to the frontline outfits.
The next challenge was distributing the replacements in small arbitrary numbers—not teamed units—to plug the gaping holes in the assault battalions. These new men were expected to replace the vital veterans of the Pacific War. These replacement Marines were not only new to combat but also to each other—an assortment of strangers that lacked the lifesaving bonds of unit integrity.
One frustrated Marine officer said: “they get killed the day they go into battle.” Losses among the replacement Marines within the first forty-eight hours of combat were shocking. Those who survived and learned the ropes established a bond with the veterans and contributed significantly to the battle’s victory. Division commanders criticized the wastefulness of this policy and urged for replacements from the veteran battalions of the 3rd Marines.
General Erskine later wrote: “I asked Kelly Turner and Holland Smith to give us the 3rd. They said, ‘you got enough Marines on the island now. There are too damn many here already.’ I said, ‘this is an easy solution. Some of these Marines are tired and too worn out, so take them out and bring in the goddamn 3rd Marines.’ They said, ‘keep your mouth shut. We made our decision.’ And that was that.”
Most surviving officers agreed that the decision not to use the veteran 3rd Marines at Iwo was wasteful and ill-advised. But Holland Smith never wavered: “sufficient troops were on Iwo Jima for the capture of the island. Two regiments were sufficient to cover the frontal assault assigned to General Erskine.”
On D +14, March 5, General Holland Smith ordered the 3rd Marines to sail back to Guam.
While Holland Smith may have known the overall statistics of the battle losses sustained by the landing force at that point—he did not fully appreciate the tremendous attrition of experienced junior officers and senior noncoms taking their place every day. For example, the day after the 3rd Marines sailed for Guam, the 2/23 Marines’ E Company suffered the loss of their seventh company commander since the start of the battle.
Colonel Cushman’s experiences with the 2/9 Marines were typical: “casualties were brutal. By the time Iwo was over, we’d gone through two complete sets of lieutenants and platoon leaders. After that, we had forward artillery observers commanding companies and sergeants leading half strength platoons. It was that bad.”
Colonel English wrote: “After twelve days, we’d lost every company commander. I had one company exec left. I’d lost all three of my rifle company commanders killed by the same damn shell.”
Many infantry units and platoons ceased to exist. Depleted companies were merged to form half-strength outfits.
Northern Allied Drive
The Allied drive continued north after the March 5 standdown. It did not get any easier. The Japanese had changed tactics: fewer big guns and rockets and less observed fire from the highlands. But now, the terrain had deteriorated into narrow twisted gorges, enveloped in sulfur mists—killing zones.
Allie
d casualties mounted. Gunshot wounds now outnumbered the high explosive shrapnel hits. A myth among Marine units was that the Japanese were nearsighted and poor marksmen. In close quarters fighting in northern Iwo, Japanese riflemen shot down hundreds of advancing Marines in the head or chest with well-aimed fire. Captain Caldwell of the 1/26 Marines said: “Poor marksmen? All the Japs we faced were expert shooters.”
Supporting arms coordination became more effective during the battle. Colonel “Buzz” Letcher established the first SACC (Supporting Arms Coordination Center), where senior artillery, naval gunfire, and air support representatives pooled their talents and resources. While Letcher lacked the manpower and communications equipment to run a full-time SACC, his efforts significantly advanced this challenging art.
Colonel McGee’s Landing Force Air Support Control Unit worked in harmony with the fledgling SACC. Still, friendly fire incidents happened. Perhaps friendly fire was inevitable on that crowded island, but positive control at the highest level did much to reduce the frequency of these accidents.
The lack of preliminary naval bombardment on Iwo angered Marines. While all hands valued the responsive support received from D-Day onward, the lack of initial fire was blamed for the horrific Marine casualties. The gunfire ships stood in close—less than a mile offshore—and hammered the flanks and front lines. Many ships took hits from the hidden enemy coastal defense batteries. There were no safe zones in or around Iwo Jima.
Two characteristics of naval gunfire on Iwo were notable: The extent ships provided illuminating rounds over the battlefield, especially during the early days before the landing force artillery could assume the bulk of these missions. Second was the degree of assistance provided by the smaller gunships, frequently modified with 4.2-inch mortars, 20mm guns, or rockets. These “small boys” were vital along the northwestern coast as they worked in lockstep with the 5th Marine Division advancing toward The Gorge.
While the Marines comprised most of the landing force on Iwo, they still received support from the army. Two of the four amphibious truck companies on D-Day were army units. The 138th Antiaircraft Artillery Group placed their 90mm batteries around the newly captured airfields. General Jim Chaney (later to become Iwo’s island commander) landed on D +8 with elements of the Army’s 145th Infantry.
Army units flew into Iwo on March 6 (D +15). The 15th Fighter Group arrived to escort B-29s over Tokyo. This group was a seasoned outfit that included the famous 47th Fighter Squadron and their P-51 Mustangs. While the army pilots had little to no experience in direct air support of ground troops, Colonel McGee was impressed with their “eager beaver attitude” and willingness to learn.
McGee appreciated the fact the Mustangs could deliver thousand-pound bombs. He had the Army pilots trained on how to strike designated targets on nearby islands. In three days, they were ready for duty on Iwo. McGee instructed the Mustang pilots to arm their bombs with twelve-second delay fuses and attack parallel to the front lines approaching from a 45° angle.
These tactics often produced stunning results—especially along the west coast—where the thousand-pound bombs blew sides of entire cliffs off into the ocean. This exposed enemy caves and tunnels to direct naval gunfire from the sea. According to McGee: “those Air Force boys did a lot of good.”
The field medical support given to the assaulting Marines was a major contributor to victory on Iwo. Integrating chaplains, surgeons, and corpsmen within the FMF (Fleet Marine Force) paid valuable dividends. Most times, corpsmen were as tough and combat savvy as the Marines in that company. Wounded Marines knew their corpsman would move heaven and earth to reach them, bind their wounds, and start the long evacuation process.
Marines on Iwo Jima echoed the views of Staff Sergeant Al Thomas: “we had outstanding corpsmen. They were our family.” The luxury of having first-rate medical help so close to the front took a terrible toll. Eight hundred twenty-seven corpsmen and twenty-three doctors were wounded or killed on Iwo Jima—a casualty rate twice as high as Saipan.
Combat medical support was thoughtfully prepared and provided on Iwo. Past the crude aid stations and toward the rear, the Army and Navy field hospitals arose. Wounded Marines would receive treatment in a field hospital, then recuperate in a bunker before returning to the lines to often receive their second or third wound. The more seriously wounded were evacuated by air to Guam or to one of the several fully-staffed hospital ships operating around the clock. Within the first month of fighting on Iwo, 13,747 Marines and corpsmen casualties were evacuated by hospital ship and another 2,489 by airlift.
When a Marine was wounded, the first few minutes were the most dangerous after going down. Enemy snipers had no hesitations about picking off corpsmen, litter crews, or even the wounded man himself as his buddies tried to slide him out of the fire.
Corporal Ed Canter was a rocket truck crew chief in the 4th Marine Division. Rocket trucks always drew an angry barrage of counter-battery fire from the enemy. A Japanese sniper shot Canter through the stomach. Corporal Canter’s comrades knew they had to get him away from that launch site fast. As a nearby motion picture crew recorded the drama, four Marines carried Canter down a mud-covered hillside. They heard the scream of an incoming shell and dumped Canter while they took cover.
The explosion killed the film crew and wounded each of the Marines, including Canter again. The film footage survived and appeared in US newsreels—before becoming a part of the movie Sands of Iwo Jima. Corporal Canter survived and was evacuated to a hospital ship and then to different hospitals in Guam and Hawaii before returning to the US. His war was over.
The shore party personnel and beachmasters performed remarkable feats of logistics to keep the advancing divisions equipped and armed. The logistical management and sheer backbreaking work needed to maintain such a high volume of supplies and equipment moving over these dangerous beaches was hard to imagine. A single beach on the west coast became functional on D +11, but by that time, most of the landing force supplies were already ashore.
The next day after the general unloading was completed, the vulnerable amphibious ships were released from their tether to the beachhead. Shortly after, well-aimed enemy fire detonated the 5th Marine Division’s entire ammo dump. Ammunition resupply became vital. Then, the ammunition ship Columbia Victory came under direct enemy fire as she approached the western beaches to unload. Waiting Marines held their breath as the Columbia Victory was nearly destroyed. She narrowly escaped, but the potential for disaster still loomed.
An entire brigade of the 62nd Naval Construction Battalion (Seabees) extended and repaired the captured runways. Marines returning to the beaches from the northern highlands could scarcely recognize the place they’d first seen on D-Day. There were now over 80,000 Allied troops on the small island, and the Seabees had bulldozed a two-lane road to the top of Mount Suribachi.
Communications had improved dramatically on Iwo compared to previous amphibious campaigns. Handsets and radios were now waterproof and had more frequencies. Forward observer teams used the backpack SCR-610, while companies and platoons preferred the walkie-talkie style SCR-300 or even lighter portables, the “Spam Can” SCR-536.
Colonel Jim Berkeley, XO of the 27th Marines said: “On Iwo, we had near-perfect communications. It was all any commander could ask for.” Marines strung telephone lines between support units and four command posts as the battle raged, elevating the wire along upright posts to avoid damage by tracked vehicles.
Enemy counterintelligence expected to have an easy day splicing into allied phone lines, but Marines baffled them with Navajo code talkers. Each division employed twenty-four trained Navajos. The 5th Marine Division’s command post had six established Navajo networks on the island. No one throughout the war could ever crack the Navajo code.
Black American troops played a major role in the capture of Iwo. Black troops drove army amphibious trucks and were active throughout the landing. Black Marines of the 8th Ammunition Company and the 36th Depot Comp
any landed on D-Day and served as longshoremen on those chaotic, bloody beaches. The on-island Black Marines worked with the Shore Party and helped to sustain the momentum of the Allied northern drive. When the Japanese counterattacked penetrated these beach areas, Black Marines dropped their cargo, unslung their carbines, and engaged the enemy with well-disciplined fire.
Colonel Leland Swindler commanded the V Amphibious Corps Shore Party: “the entire body of Black Marines under my command conducted themselves with marked coolness and courage and inflicted more casualties on the enemy than they sustained.”
News coverage of the Iwo Jima battle was extensive. Dozens of combat correspondents were embedded with the landing force throughout the battle. Marine Sergeant “Dick” Dashiell was a writer for the Associated Press and assigned to the 3rd Marine Division. Although sometimes terrified and filled with horror, Dashiell endured and wrote eighty-one frontline stories and pounded out news releases on his portable typewriter at the edge of his foxhole. Dashiell’s eye for detail always caught the attention of the reader: “All is bitter. Frontal assault always uphill. A ceaseless wind filled the air with a fine volcanic grit.” He described how Marines had to stop and clean the grit from their weapons—and how naked that made most Marines feel.
Occasionally, hot food was delivered to the exhausted Marines on the front lines. The deliveries of milk and fruit from nearby ships boosted morale. So did watching the crippled B-29s zoom in for an emergency landing. Sergeant “Doc” Lindsey was a squad leader in Company G, 2/25 Marines. He stated: “It was good to see them land. You knew they’d just come from hitting Tokyo.”