Prologue
Prelude to war — I suppose the story has its beginnings in 1938. Hitler was flexing his military muscles in Germany, and Generalissimo Francisco Franco had just about consolidated his hold on the Spanish countryside. In Italy, Il Duce, Benito Mussolini, was strutting around the balconies of Rome, bragging how his Caribinieri had trounced the palace guard of Ethiopia's Haile Selasssie. And on the Asian continent, the infamous "Rape of Nanking" was still taking place. To this day, Japanese historians try to deny the rape took place. But it is well documented in the newspapers of the day, even the newspapers of Tokyo and other Japanese cities.
From Manchuria (which the Japanese had renamed Manchukuo), through Korea (which still seeks an apology from Japan for the atrocities committed during the colonization of Chosen, which the Japanese also renamed), through China, Indo-China, Siam, Laos, Borneo, the Philippines, Guam, Wake, and on down through the Malaysian Peninsula and the Solomons until Japan's army was finally halted in 1942 at the New Guinea town of Port Moresby. If Port Moresby had fallen, the way would have been clear for an invasion of Australia. With its armed forces fighting alongside the British in North Africa, it is almost certain that Australia would have fallen to Japan.
During this rampage by Japan's "sons of heaven" bushido warriers, more than 30,000,000 people were killed to satisfy Japan's these kill-crazy hordes. Judge Dan Winn, in co-authorship with General Raymond Davis, USMC (Ret) and Medal of Honor recipient for his valor at the Chosen Reservoir in Korea, has written a definitive book in response Japan's cover-up of its wartime atrocities. Its title is Clear Conscience — The Atom Bomb Versus the Super Holocaust.
In the meantime, in Europe, Hitler had "annexed" Austria and renamed it "Ostmark." Czechoslovakia was next and then Poland, the Netherlands, and in 1940, France fell to the blitzkrieg, a new addition to the English language. In North Africa, the French colonies there were gobbled up by Germany and they turned Eastward to Algiers, Libya and Egypt. They were knocking on the door to Cairo when the British finally stopped them at El Alemein,
I call this account of mine a "factual-fiction" (I believe that is what is called an oxymoron), but in this case, I think it fits the narrative. It is fiction in that it has no official historical standing. It is factual because everything is provable in the newspaper accounts of the day. This was in the days of journalistic integrity, unlike the scandal sheets of today. Integrity went out the window in search of lurid stories that sell. Truth today has no place in the media. But I digress.
Here in the United States, we were in the grip of the worst depression in the history of our country. There were some stop-gap programs to allieviate it, (some, frankly, bordered on illegality). One program in effect was the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). The vast reforestation of the U.S. was done by these young men.
My next oldest brother was in the CCC camp at Dahlonega, GA. He came home one weekend and tossed me a pamphlet. He had no idea what an impact that pamphlet would have on his 13-year-old brother. The Marine recruiter had visited the camp the week before and the pamphlet was recruiting literature. I didn't think about it then, but years later, on a street in Raleigh, NC, a young black child summed it up.
I was on recruiting duty at the time and was walking down the street in my dress blues when I met this young black mother and her 5- or 6-year-old son. As they approached, the little guy pulled at his mother's coat and said, "Momma, dat's de kind of sojur I wants to be." I gave him my card and told him to bring it to the recruiting station when he was old enough. I wrote the date on the back and the words, "Please show this young man all considerations you can." This had crystalized what I had felt back in 1938. "Dat's de kind of sojur I wants to be."
A couple of years later (1940), my brother was drafted into the Army for a year. When their year was up, they were extended. Then on 7 December 1941, Pearl Harbor and a brand new ball game.
I have always been an avid reader and I followed the accounts of the war, both in the Pacific and in Europe and Africa and, again, my conviction of going into the Marines was strengthened because it seemed Marines would be doing their fighting in the Pacific and I wanted to be where Marines were.
We lost Wake Island, in spite of the heroic stand by Major James P.S. Deveroux and his battalion of Marines there. We lost the Philippines, Guam and the Solomons, the Marianas, and the Japanese were knocking on the door to Australia.
Then came Midway. A couple of squadrons of outnumbered Marines, flying obsolete planes along with the planes of the carriers Yorktown, Hornet and Enterprise, attacked the Japanese fleet of several capital ships, including two of their biggest battleships and four of their newest and biggest carriers. Although American casualties were high, all four of the Japanese carriers were lost along with all their aircraft. We lost the Yorktown to a series of torpedos. The Japanese were stopped and Midway was saved.
A lieutenant colonel in the Army Air Corps (he would be a brigadier general before his plane landed), Jimmy Doolittle, flying with his squadron of B-25 mediuim bombers, did an unheard of thing: taking off at sea from a carrier, they bombed Tokyo. The damage done was minimal, but the effect on the morale of the people of Japan as well as the United States was tremendous.
An old "China Marine," a controversial major named Evans Carlson, was given command of a new kind of Marine Corps unit — the 2nd Raider Battalion — and was told he could train and arm them just about any way he wanted. His XO was a balding, bespectacled captain of Reserves named James Roosevelt, whose father had an interesting job — president of the United States. In a few months, they sailed into history.
But other events would take place before they would reach their destination. The 1st Marine Division landed in Wellington, New Zealand, and immediately went into intense training for a landing in the Solomons Islands.
On 7 August 1942, the Marines went ashore on Guadalcanal, Gavutu, and Tulagi against fierce Japanese resistance. This was the first time the Japanese had been attacked and eventually defeated in their 2800-year-old history. About midnight on D-Day, General A.A.Vandegrift, the commanding general of the 1st Marine Division, was called aboard the command ship of Admiral Fletcher, where he was informed that he had received permission from ComSoPac (CommanderSouthPacific) to withdraw the next day to Rendova.
General Vandegrift was known to respond to this, but his most caustic words are lost to history. It is known that he protested strongly, saying that his engineer equipment, his prime movers for the artillery, as well as all his heavy artillery, most of his rations, and most of his replacement draft of men were still aboard. His protests fell on deaf ears, and at 1700 hours the next day, the fleet started pulling out.
By 2000, the Marines were alone on the beaches of Guadalcanal, Gavutu and Tulagi with thousands of Japanese soldiers. The fleet was in such a hurry to get out of harm's way, they left a good portion of their LCVPs, (landing craft, vehicle and personnel) stranded on the beach. General Vandegrift made good use of them. He formed the "Lunga Boat Patrol" and used the landing craft to shuttle men and supplies back and forth to Gavutu and Tulagi. This bug-out wasn't by the sailors. To a man, they would have stayed and slugged it out. This was the Navy brass that had a yellow streak.
In spite of these handicaps, the Marines, using captured Japanese engineer equipment, finished the air strip the Japanese had started , named it after a Midway hero, Major Lofton R. Henderson. During the next few months, the Marines kept these islands, in spite of heavy shelling and bombing by Japanese ships and planes. Helping was the "Cactus Air Force," a motley collection of Marine fighter, torpedo and dive bombers using mostly Wildcats, (F4F3s), TBFs (torpedo bombers) and SBDs (Dauntless dive bombers). Plus an Army Air Corps squadron of P39 and P400 Aircobras. These last were nearly useless as fighters, but they were ideal for close air support for the infantry with their 20-mm cannon, firing through the propellor hub. Many Marines today owe their lives to these close strike planes.
They were, however, no match for the Mitsubishii Zero the Japanese were flying. Major Joe Foss, a five-time Marine ace, was asked how you fought a Zero with a Wildcat. His reply: "If it's one Zero and one Wildcat, you run. You're outnumbered."
The Makin Island raid by the 2nd Raider Battalion, was a mixed bag. Carlson's Raiders accomplished their mission, but when they tried to paddle back out to the submarine in their rubber boats, they found the tide and cross-currents made it a trying experience. Seven (some say as many as eleven) men were left behind. They were captured and executed by the Japanese.
All this time, I was back in the U.S., biting my nails, anxious to get into it before all the Japs were killed. I turned 17 in December 1942, but my parents refused to sign consent papers for me. I was bitter about this for a while, but finally, my Dad said if I would stay and help him make the next year's crop, he would sign the papers. It wasn't what I had hoped for, but I agreed. My two younger brothers would be old enough by then to help my dad on the farm. He was hoping the war would be over before I went in and I was hoping it wouldn't. Many times after that I was to wish he had been right. But fate, being sometimes fickle, sometimes kind, prevailed and the following October I told Dad, "The crop is in. Now will you sign the papers?" Reluctantly, he signed. I never knew my Dad to go back on his given word.
So on 9 November 1943, I along with 12 others, held up my right hand and was sworn in by a captain of Marines, dress blues, Sam Browne belt and on his chest were two rows of ribbons. The topmost one was blue, white, red, white, blue — the Silver Star. The next one was purple with narrow white stripes on the ends. This one had two small bronze stars in it. The purple heart, showing that he had been wounded twice in service of his country. I had met my first bona fide Marine hero.
SEMPER FIDELIS!
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