by Daniel Wrinn
The battle of Yae Take was the first real fight for the 6th Marine Division. Five days of difficult and deadly combat against a determined enemy. The 4th and the 29th Marines earned their spurs here. They developed teamwork and tactics, putting them in a good position for the long, bloody campaign ahead.
One aspect of General Shepherd’s success in this battle stemmed from his desire to place proven leaders in command of his troops. On the 15th, Shepherd relieved Colonel Victor Bleasdale (a decorated World War I Marine) and installed Guadalcanal veteran Colonel William Whaling as the commanding officer of the 29th Marines. After an enemy sniper killed Major Bernard Greene, commanding the 1/4 Marines, Colonel Alan Shapley assigned his own XO, Colonel Fred Beans (former Marine Raider), as his replacement.
The ferocious fighting continued with three Allied battalions attacking from the west and two from the east. They were protected against friendly fire by the steep pinnacle separating them. Logistics were essential in this fight. Every Marine (from private to general) who climbed that mountain to the front lines carried either a 5-gallon water can or a case of ammo. All hands coming down the mountain helped carry the stretchers of wounded Marines. On April 15, a company of the 2/4 Marines took sixty-five casualties—including three consecutive company commanders.
The next day Marines secured the ridge with the help of the battleship Tennessee’s 14-inch guns and Marine Corsairs low-level pocket bombing.
Colonel Udo and his troops from the Kunigami Detachment died to the last man. On April 20, General Shepherd announced the Motobu Peninsula was secured. His Marines had earned a precious victory, but the cost did not come cheap. The 6th Marine Division suffered 757 wounded and 207 killed in the battle.
In his journal, an impressed General Oliver Smith wrote: “This northern campaign should dispel the belief held by some that Marines are beach-bound and not capable of rapid movement. Our Marines raced over rugged terrain and repaired roads and blown bridges while successfully opening new unloading points. They reached the island’s northern tip—over fifty miles away from the landing beaches—in fourteen days. Followed by a seven-day campaign to secure the Motobu Peninsula.”
The 77th Infantry Division landed on the island Ie Shima and seized its airfields during the battle for Motobu Peninsula. On April 16, Major Jones’ recon Marines paved the way by taking a small islet 6,200 yards offshore called Minna Shima. Here, soldiers positioned a 105mm battery to support onshore operations. The 77th needed plenty of fire support to fight the 5,000 enemy defending the island. The Army soldiers overwhelmed them in six days of hard fighting at the cost of 1,100 casualties.
A popular war correspondent named Ernie Pyle, who’d landed with the Marines on L-Day, was shot in the head by a Japanese sniper. Marines and soldiers alike grieved over Pyle’s death just as they’d done six days earlier with the news of FDR’s passing.
Typhoon of Steel
The 1st Marine Division fought a different campaign in April than their sister division to the north. They spent their days processing refugees and their nights on ambushes and patrols. Snipers and guerrillas exacted a steady but small toll.
The “Old Breed” Marines welcomed this style of low intensity. After many months in the tropics, they found Okinawa refreshing and rustic. Marines were concerned about the welfare of the thousands of Okinawan refugees streaming in from the heavy fighting.
According to Private First Class Eugene Sledge: “The most pitiful things about the Okinawan civilians were that they were totally bewildered by the shock of our invasion, and they were scared to death of us. Countless times they passed us on the way to the rear with sadness, fear, and confusion on their faces.”
Sledge and his companions in the 5th Marines could tell by the sound of the intense artillery fire to the south that the XXIV Corps had smashed into General Ushijima’s ring of outer defenses. Inside that first week, soldiers from the 7th and 96th Divisions figured out the riddle: Where the hell are the Japs? By the second week, General Buckner and General Hodge were aware of Ushijima’s intentions and the depth and range of his defensive positions.
Along with minefields, caves, and reverse slope emplacements, the Shuri defensive complex contained the most large-caliber weapons the Allies had ever faced in the Pacific. These positions had mutually supporting fires from the adjacent hills and ridgelines—honeycombed with fighting holes and caves. Keeping a strict adherence to these intricate networks of mutually supporting positions required an iron discipline from enemy troops. The enemy’s discipline prevailed. Allied forces found themselves entering into savage killing zones.
Japanese tactics along the front were to isolate and contain Allied penetration by grazing fire from supporting positions. Then, they’d overwhelm exposed troops with a storm of preregistered heavy mortar shells while enemy troops swarmed out of their tunnels and counterattacked. Japanese troops often shot down more Allied troops during their extraction from a fire swept hilltop than they did in the initial advance.
General Buckner committed the 27th Infantry Division to the southern front. He had General Geiger loan him his corps artillery and 11th Marines to help beef up fire support. The XXIV Corps now had an additional four 155mm battalions, three 105mm battalions, and one 75mm pack howitzer battalion to add to the underway bombardment of Ushijima’s outer defenses. Colonel Fred Henderson took command of a field artillery group composed of a 155mm gun battalion and an eight-inch howitzer battalion (the Henderson Group), which provided massive fire support for the Tenth Army.
It took time to build the adequate units of fire for field artillery battalions to support the mammoth, three-divisional offensive that General Buckner wanted. After a week of inactivity passed along the front, the Japanese made their own adjustments and prepared for the coming offensive.
On L +7 (April 18) General Buckner moved the command post of the Tenth Army onshore, and the new offensive began the following day. It was preceded by a wicked preliminary bombardment (typhoon of steel) of twenty-seven artillery batteries, six hundred aircraft, and eighteen ships. But the enemy just burrowed deeper into their subterranean fortress and waited. They waited for the hellish pounding to stop. They waited for the Allied infantry to advance into their well-designed killing traps.
On April 19, XXIV Corps executed the assault. They made some gains before getting thrown back with heavy casualties. The enemy extracted a heavy toll from Allied tanks—particularly those supporting the 27th Infantry Division. The fighting around Kakazu Ridge had separated tanks from supporting infantry by fire, and the Japanese knocked off twenty-two of them with everything from hand-delivered satchel charges to 47mm guns.
This disastrous battle on April 19 gave the Tenth Army a dose of reality. The walk in the sun was over. Overcoming enemy defenses around Shuri would require several divisions, massive firepower, and much more time. General Buckner requested General Geiger give him the 1st Tank Battalion to help the 27th Division along the Machinato-Kakazu lines.
General del Valle was livid and complained to Geiger: “They can have my division, but not piecemeal.” Marine tank crews and infantry trained together as a team. The 1st Marine Division had perfected tank-infantry offensive attacks in the crucible on Peleliu. Committing tanks to the Army without trained infantry squads would be catastrophic.
Fortunately, Generals Oliver Smith and Roy Geiger made del Valle’s points crystal clear to General Buckner. The Tenth Army commander agreed to refrain from any piecemeal commitments of the Marines. On April 24, he ordered Geiger to designate one division as a Tenth Army reserve and make one regiment in that division ready to move south in less than twelve hours. Geiger gave the mission to the 1st Marine Division, and General del Valle advanced the 1st Marines south.
General Buckner and his senior advisers seriously debated opening a second front with an amphibious landing on the Minatoga Beaches. The bloody fighting on the Shuri front helped him decide. As casualties piled up at a shocking rate, Buckner concentrated all of his resourc
es on one front. On April 27, he assigned the 1st Marine Division to the XXIV Corps. Over the next three days, the division advanced south and relieved the shot-up 27th Infantry Division on the right flank. The 6th Division was ordered to prepare for a similar displacement to the south.
The long battle for the southern highlands of Okinawa was now shifting into gear.
Throughout April and with unparalleled ferociousness, Japanese kamikazes punished Fifth Fleet ships supporting the operation. The aerial battles became so intense that the western beaches received a deadly, steady rain of shell fragments from thousands of antiaircraft guns in the fleet. There were no safe havens in this battle.
Situation at Sea
The Japanese strategy to defend Okinawa was to make the most of the nation’s shrinking resources and zealous patriotism.
General Ushijima planned to bloody the Allied forces in a lengthy battle of attrition, while the Japanese air forces would savage the Fifth Fleet—tethered to the island to support ground forces. Ushijima’s strategy would combine passive ground defense with a violent air offensive. Suicidal kamikaze tactics were planned on an unprecedented scale.
By spring of 1945, the Allies understood the enemy’s decision to sacrifice planes and pilots in reckless kamikaze attacks from their time in the Philippines. Individual suicide attacks by anti-shipping swimmers near Iwo Jima and the “human bullet” anti-tank demolitions on Peleliu were common. Japanese headquarters had escalated these tactics to an overwhelming level at Okinawa. They unleashed their newest weapon: Operation Kikusui (floating chrysanthemums) devastating mass suicide airstrikes against the fleet.
While small groups of kamikazes struck the fleet nightly and achieved some damage, the worst destruction came from concentrated Kikusui raids. The Japanese launched ten separate Kikusui attacks during the battle on Okinawa—each with over 350 aircraft. Japanese headquarters coordinated these raids and other tactical surprises, like the sacrificial sortie of the Yamato and other formidable counter-attacks. These tactics resulted in a shocking loss of life on both sides.
Kamikaze swarms harassed the Fifth Fleet from the time they entered Ryukyuan waters and throughout the battle. Some senior Navy commanders dismissed the threat—inexperienced pilots and rundown planes launched with insufficient fuel to reach Okinawa. While it was true that many of the 2,377 kamikaze pilots did not fulfill their mission, Special Attack Unit pilots who got through the air and surface screens inflicted a wicked toll on the Fifth Fleet.
At the end of the campaign, the Fifth Fleet had endured thirty-four ships sunk, 360 damaged, and over 9,000 casualties: the worst losses ever sustained in a single battle in the history of the US Navy.
The situation at sea became so devastating that smoke from burning ships and offshore escorts blinded Kadena Airfield and caused four returning combat air patrol planes to crash. As the onslaught continued, Admiral Spruance said: “The suicide plane is an effective weapon which we must not underestimate.” Spruance spoke from first-hand experience. Kamikaze attacks knocked out his first flagship, the heavy cruiser Indianapolis, early in the campaign. Then they damaged his replacement flagship—the battleship New Mexico two weeks later.
Enemy pilots attacking the fleet off Okinawa had a new weapon: the Ohka (Cherry Blossom) bomb. The Allies called this bomb “Baka” (the Japanese word for foolish). A manned rocket packed with 4,400 pounds of explosives launched at ships from the belly of a twin-engine bomber.
The Ohka bombs were the first antiship guided missiles. They shrieked toward their target at an unheard of speed of 500 knots. This new weapon blew the destroyer Manert L. Abele out of the water. But luckily for the Allies, most Ohka’s missed their targets—the missiles were too fast for the inexperienced pilots to control in their last seconds of glory.
The ultimate suicide attack was the final sortie of the super battleship Yamato. One of the world’s last great dreadnoughts. She had 18.1-inch guns that could outrange any US battleship. Imperial headquarters dispatched the Yamato on her last mission. A bizarre maneuver with no air cover and only a handful of surface escorts—with enough fuel for a one-way trip.
Her mission was to distract American carriers while the Japanese launched a massive Kikusui attack against the rest of the fleet. Afterward, the Yamato would beach on the west coast of Okinawa and use her massive guns to shoot up the onshore landing force and the thin-skinned amphibious shipping. This daring plan proved to be a complete failure.
This colossal warship would’ve terrified the fleet protecting an amphibious beachhead in the early years of the war. But not now. US submarines gave Admiral Spruance early warning of the Yamato’s departure from Japanese waters. Admiral Mark Mitscher asked Spruance: “Shall I take them or will you?” Mitscher commanded the fast carriers of Task Force 58. While Spruance knew his battleship force was eager to avenge their losses at Pearl Harbor—this was no time for nostalgia.
Spruance signaled: “You take them.” And with that, Mitscher’s Avengers and Hellcats roared into action. They intercepted the Yamato a hundred miles from the beach. They sunk her quickly with torpedoes and bombs. It cost the Allied forces eight planes and twelve pilots.
Another bizarre Japanese suicide mission was more effective. On the evening of May 25, seven enemy transport planes loaded with Giretsu (Japanese commandos) approached the Yontan Airfield. Vigilant antiaircraft guns flamed five planes, but the surviving plane made a wheels-up belly landing on the airstrip—discharging troops as she slid in sparks and flames along the long surface. Giretsu commandos destroyed eight planes and damaged twice as many more. They ignited 70,000 gallons of aviation fuel, creating chaos and confusion through the night. Jumpy security troops fired into the shadows and injured more of their own men than the Japanese. It took twelve hours to hunt down and destroy the enemy commandos.
Admiral Spruance desperately tried to reduce the effectiveness of the kamikaze strikes. His fast-attack carriers hit enemy airfields in Formosa and Kyushu repeatedly, but the Japanese were experts at camouflage. Marine landing parties were sent to seize the outlying islands to establish fire direction and early warning outposts. Fighter aircraft from all three services took to the skies to intercept the massed waves of suicidal enemy planes.
Not all of these enemy airstrikes were kamikazes. Equal numbers of fighters and bombers attacked Allied targets while guiding in the suicide planes. The Japanese used several of their later model fighters like the Nakajima in death-defying air-to-air duels over hundreds of miles of blue ocean.
The far-reaching fast carriers usually made the first interceptions. While many pilots were from the Navy, the task force included two Marine fighter squadrons on the carriers Bennington and Bunker Hill. Marine pilot Lieutenant Ken Huntington flew the only Marine Corsair in the attack on the Yamato. Huntington swept through heavy antiaircraft fire to deliver a bomb on the battle ship’s forward turret. Described by war correspondent Robert Sherrod: “one Marine, one bomb, and one Navy Cross.”
Marine pilots from MAGs 31 and 33 flying out of Yontan Airfield provided most combat air patrol missions over the fleet. Under General Mulcahy’s command, the combat air patrol missions surged from an initial twelve planes to as many as thirty-two, with another dozen on alert. These missions involved countless hours of patrolling in rough weather spiked by sudden violent encounters from enemy raiders. Marine planes ran a double risk. Battling with Japanese fighters often brought both planes within range of jittery shipboard antiaircraft gunners—who sometimes shot down both planes.
On April 16, Marine Corsairs raced to help the picket ship Laffey under attack from five kamikaze planes. Allied aircraft shot down seventeen enemy planes. Only one Corsair was lost in the fight while chasing an enemy kamikaze so low that they both clipped the ship’s superstructure and crashed.
Major George Axtell and his “Death Rattlers” (VMF-323) intercepted a large flight of enemy raiders approaching the fleet at dusk. Three Marine pilots shot down sixteen enemy planes in twenty minutes. M
ajor Axtell, the squadron commander, shot down five and became an instant ace. He later described these dog fights: “You’d be flying in and out of clouds and heavy rain. Friendly and enemy aircraft would wind up in a big melee. You’d just keep turning into any enemy aircraft that appeared. It was fast and furious, and the engagement would be over within thirty minutes.”
Despite the brave efforts of pilots and ground crews, a few kamikazes always got through. Kerama Retto’s protected anchorage resembled a floating graveyard of severely damaged ships. The small groups of suicide pilots who appeared every night in the fleet were especially vulnerable during the full moon. A naval officer described the nighttime raids as “witches on broomsticks.” The main victims of these nocturnal attacks were the “small boys,” amphibs and picket ships.
Nick Floros was a 19-year-old signalman who manned a 20mm gun on the tiny LSM-120. One moonless night a kamikaze appeared out of nowhere. She glided in, cut her engine off, looking like a giant bat. The Japanese plane smashed into the LCM with a horrific explosion before anyone could fire a shot. While the small LSM loaded with landing force supplies somehow survived the fiery blast, she was immediately towed to Kerama Retto’s “demolition yard.”
Japanese headquarters believed the exaggerated claims that the Kikusui attacks had crippled the US fleet. Wishful thinking. While the Fifth Fleet may have been battered and bruised by the kamikaze onslaught, they were too massive of a force to deter. The fleet endured the worst of these endless air attacks. They never wavered from their primary mission of supporting Okinawa’s amphibious assault.