LtCol John Butler and 1st Battalion 27th Marines
The text of this article was taken from the google cache of a series of pages beginning at http://www.ww2gyrene.org/spotlight10_1.htm. (_4.htm is missing.) The site appears to be defunct, and no images are available. "This site is owned & maintained by Mark Flowers, copyright 2004, all rights reserved."
We will happily link to an updated site, or remove this article if so requested. In the meantime, it's a masterful and gripping story of the service, sacrifice, and unbelievable heroism of the men fighting at Iwo Jima.
PART I: PREPARING FOR WAR
CAMP PENDLETON
Camp Pendleton, Calif., was a busy post in 1944 when it housed the 5th Marine Division before deployment to the Pacific. Established in 1942, this sprawling base north of San Diego was a prime training site for Marine units heading for combat. With a long stretch of Pacific coastline, rugged canyons and mountains, Pendleton was perfectly suited to preparing for war.
On 10 January 1944, by administrative order, the 1st Battalion, 27th Marines was activated aboard the base. This outfit, one of the keystone infantry units in the 5th Marine Division, had an authorized strength of 945 Marines and Sailors. To fill the battalion, hundreds of brand-new Marines streamed northward to 1/27 from the Recruit Depot in San Diego. Veteran Marines from stations all over the United States, many of them former Paramarines and Raiders, joined them. Major Justin Duryea, a veteran of combat in the South Pacific with the Paramarines, was the battalion’s interim commander.
The same week that 1/27 was activated, LtCol John A. Butler reported to Camp Pendleton. A Naval Academy graduate in the class of 1934, he was a tall, rawboned Marine with a dark complexion and sparse good looks. His southern roots were revealed in his New Orleans accent. At the academy he was nicknamed at various times, "Long John," "Black John" and "Cajun." A fluent Spanish speaker, Butler had already spent a decade of service moving between duty afloat with the 5th Marines and in Naval Intelligence.
Not only an officer of Marines, John Butler was also a husband and father. His wife, Denise, was a petite woman with light brown hair. The pair first met in 1931 during Christmas leave in Louisiana. John fell in love at first sight, but Denise proceeded with caution. The following Christmas at a watermelon party, the erstwhile Midshipman tried unsuccessfully to toss Denise into a tub of ice water to get her attention.
During his first class year, John gave Denise a miniature class ring during June Week. They decided to get married, but were forced to wait by the Marine Corps. Regulations prohibited a new officer from getting married until he had served at least two years. For several years, the couple exchanged a stream of letters back and forth as John traveled between ports of call as a seagoing Marine. Finally, on a warm summer day in 1936, John and Denise were married in a military wedding at Loyola’s Holy Name Church in New Orleans.
Before the war, the Butlers were stationed in Panama, Quantico, and the Dominican Republic. Moving from place to place was a way of life in the Corps, yet the family grew on a regular basis. Daughter Mary Jo arrived first in 1937 and son John was born in 1939. He was soon christened, “Johnny Boy.” Soon Denise, whom her husband nicknamed "Honey Gal," knew how to pack and move like a salty gunnery sergeant.
In early 1940, then-Captain Butler was assigned to the Naval Attaché office at the U. S. Embassy in the Dominican Republic. There he spent over three years collecting intelligence on Nazi agents and sympathizers in the Caribbean. Although this was an important mission, Butler wanted a combat assignment. He felt a sense of duty to get into the war and applied for transfer to the Fleet Marine Force.
The Butlers’ third child, Morey, was born in mid-1943. Late that year, then-Major Butler received a promotion and the assignment he'd dreamed about. With orders to proceed through a staff and command course at Marine Corps Base, Quantico, LtCol Butler was bound for Camp Pendleton and the 5th Marine Division. He flew on ahead to Quantico while Honey Gal packed up their household and left the Dominican Republic with the children.
Traveling by plane and train, Honey Gal and the kids made their way to join John at Quantico. The family was billeted in temporary housing and the baby, Morey, slept in a dresser drawer. Johnny Boy, who only spoke Spanish, ran around the base trying to make friends, but none of the other kids understood what he was talking about. Dad completed his course in December 1943 and the Butlers loaded up their Studebaker sedan for a long cross-country trip to California. As Honey Gal would later remember, the kids left a trail of spilt milk across the United States.
The family arrived at Camp Pendleton in mid-January 1944. In the hectic atmosphere of a division preparing for war, John was first billeted as the Executive Officer of the 27th Marines. Sadly, his father passed away in New Orleans and John returned home for nine days of emergency leave. Shortly after returning to Camp Pendleton, he was assigned to command 1/27, and Major Duryea was posted as the Regimental Operations Officer, 27th Marines.
Among the many combat veterans assigned to the battalion was one instantly recognizable to millions of Americans. He was GySgt John M. Basilone, legendary Medal of Honor recipient from the fight for Guadalcanal who became an American icon on war bond tours across America. The Gunny had gone through his own struggle to get back in the war.
Assigned to the Marine Barracks, Washington, DC after the war bond tours, Gunny Basilone longed to get back into a combat outfit. He told anyone who would listen, “I want to get back to my boys.” Like LtCol Butler and his family, the Gunny made the long trek from the east coast to Camp Pendleton in the winter of 1944. On arrival, he reported into the 27th Marines and was billeted as the platoon sergeant of Company C's machine gun platoon.
Although California was a beautiful place, the Butlers, Gunny Basilone and the rest of 1/27 weren't there for a pleasure tour. The Spearhead division was engaged in the deadly serious business of preparing for war. That meant field problems, live fire training for all hands, inspections, and endless rounds of paperwork. Sometimes LtCol Butler took his son, John, to the base. Johnny Boy liked riding in his dad's jeep, eating Marine chow, and hanging around with the Gyrenes of the battalion. It was all very impressive to a four-year-old boy.
The Butlers had a family pet; an Airedale named "Yaqui Boy" whom they had acquired in the Dominican Republic. LtCol Butler tried unsuccessfully to enlist Yaqui Boy as a war dog. The dog flunked K-9 boot camp, but still hung around Camp Pendleton with the Colonel and his Marines. A few days after the battalion shipped out in August 1944, Yaqui Boy ran away and the family never found him. Mrs. Butler told the children he probably got lost trying to get to Camp Pendleton to find his Marines.
CAMP TARAWA
On 12 August 1944, the 27th Marines sailed from the Broadway Street Pier in San Diego bound for its new home—Camp Tarawa on the big island of Hawaii. Honey Gal, pregnant with her fourth child, and the children were at pier side to watch the Marines sail off. As unit after unit marched by heading for the docks, LtCol Butler walked over to his family. He hugged his wife, and patted Johnny Boy on the head. Then, he turned around and walked back to his Marines. For the rest of his life, Johnny Boy would remember his dad’s goodbye.
Once settled at Camp Tarawa, the Gyrenes of the 5th Marine Division continued with intensive training. They hiked across the rugged lava fields of Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa. They drilled in small unit tactics, and ran field problems. They qualified with every weapon in individual and crew served weapons, and hiked some more. Time and again, every battalion rehearsed combat formations, and platoon, company and battalion attacks.
In October 1944, intelligence began to trickle down about the location for the next objective, identified as "Island X" for security reasons. Training continued at a heightened tempo and infantry Marines worked with tanks, engineers and artillery. Soon, target dates and operational graphics were solidified. The battalion’s mission began to take shape and combat orders gave the objective a secret code name—WORKMAN.
Although John didn't have much free time, he wrote to his family almost every day. Back home, his son, Clinton, was born in Coronado on 12 November 1944. In his letters, John told Honey Gal of the pride and confidence he felt in his Marines. He wrote Johnny Boy a letter with a story about a flying jeep. In the story, Johnny and his friend Eddie came across a jeep with a missing driver. The driver had gone to get some oil. They climbed in the jeep and it suddenly began to fly over the country side. Johnny and Eddie had a great time before returning the jeep to the puzzled driver. Johnny Boy loved the story and his mom read it to him over and over. Like millions of families all over the world, the Butlers did the best they could with what they had.
PART II: ON TO WESTWARD
LOADING OUT FOR WAR
In December 1944, the 5th Marine Division began breaking camp as the haze-gray ships arrived in Hilo harbor for the next stage in the long voyage to war. 1/27 loaded its cargo and equipment on the night of 28-29 December 1944. Soon thereafter, they departed for the first port of call; Pearl Harbor, where the huge convoys formed. Every spare berth in the port was crammed with ships and supplies, but all most Gyrenes wanted to know was, “When’s liberty call?”
In mid-January, the ships slipped out of Pearl bound for the island of Maui. There, the Marines and Sailors of the Joint Expeditionary Force conducted a series of three rehearsals from 13-17 January 1945. They launched amphibian tractors, and practiced combat landings, maneuvers, naval gunfire, and aerial support. At the conclusion of the exercises, the Marines of 1/27 boarded the USS Hansford (APA 106) and returned to Pearl.
Honolulu was only eight miles from Pearl Harbor and all hands counted their money for a last, rushed liberty. Each day, 25 percent of the battalion was allowed ashore. Meanwhile, supplies and equipment were replenished and crews made preparations to get underway. On 27 January 1945, 1/27 departed from Hawaii aboard the Hansford with a course set westward across the broad expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
In the midst of the Joint Expeditionary Force convoy, Marines stood by the rails of their ships. They marveled at the sheer size of their convoys, which seemed to cover the ocean with ships of every size and shape. Life aboard ship quickly settled down to a routine of weapons cleaning, standing watch, classes and physical fitness training. Of course, Gyrenes also engaged in the time-honored ritual of doping off whenever they could.
Two days out of Hawaii, the Marines were briefed on their destination and mission. LtCol Butler passed the word via the ship’s intercom to his Marines. His voice carried across loudspeakers to every part of the Hansford. "Island X" was an eight-square-mile volcanic island about 700 miles south of the Japanese home islands. Its name was Iwo Jima. The Skipper told his Marines that Iwo was part of Japan and a critical part of the enemy’s defenses. The battalion would play a key role in the coming battle.
2ndLt Craig Leman, of Corvallis, Oregon, was attached to 1/27 aboard the Hansford during the passage to Iwo Jima. He recalled: "The Hansford was a fairly new ship which had been built as a cargo ship and later converted to a troop transport. It had a 5-inch gun and lots of 40mm antiaircraft guns. Several days out of Pearl, there was an extended antiaircraft exercise with live fire against drones simulating kamikazes. There was a tremendous volume of fire without much to show for it till, at last, one of the drones was hit and crashed, to the cheers of all of us lining the gunwales."
After the briefing, the companies formed for separate, detailed operational briefings. Each Marine viewed a topographical model of Iwo Jima and learned the part he and his unit would play. Leaders briefed their Marines on the mission: “On DOG-Day land, seize and occupy Iwo Jima in order to use that island for further operations against the enemy and to destroy or capture the enemy therein…At HOW plus 2, DOG-Day [Landing Team 1-27] lands on beach RED-2, advances rapidly and seizes… [the enemy held airfield] within its zone of action and continues to advance to “O-1” on order.”
Landing Team 1-27, built around the 1st Battalion, 27th Marines, had more than 1,000 Marines and Sailors within its ranks. For the D-Day landing, the battalion was reinforced by the following assets:
Most of the Marines in LT 1-27 would ride to the beach in amtracs of the 11th Armored Amphibian Battalion. In addition, shore party Marines and heavy assets such as the 37mm guns would go ashore in Higgins boats. Ahead of them all, eleven LVT(A)-4 amtanks from the 2nd Armored Amphibian Battalion were slated to land at H-Hour. The LVT(A)-4s, equipped with 75mm howitzers, would provide close-in fire support during the run-in to the beach.
On 5 February 1945, the giant convoy reached the next destination, Eniwetok. Some Marines were allowed ashore to play baseball and drink warm 3.2 beer. On the Hansford, the captain had a cargo net rigged over the side and sounded swim call. At Eniwetok, LtCol Butler Butler received a special gift from home—a picture of his children, including baby Clinton. This was the colonel's first and only photo of the newest addition to the Butler family.
The convoy shoved off on 7 February bound for Saipan Island in the Marianas. On arrival, the ships put into port at Tanapag harbor on 11 February 1945 and began to refit and refuel immediately. Most of the Marines in LT 1-27 packed their gear and boarded LSTs for the final stages of the voyage to war.
On 13 February 1945, the Joint Expeditionary Force conducted the final dress rehearsal off the coast of Tinian. The rehearsal was conducted in high seas under combat conditions. Early in the morning, amtracs launched from the LSTs and formed into waves. Loaded with Marines and equipment, the heavily laden vehicles made the run-in toward the beach under simulated naval gunfire support. The waves turned back about 500 yards form the beach and returned to their LSTs for embarkation.
One of the landing team’s LSTs broke down during the rehearsal after it had launched its amtracs. Several amtracs were unable to locate the LST and almost ran out of gas searching for it. All were finally rescued and refueled by another ship. A few Marines in the battalion were also injured during the exercise while climbing down the nets on the heaving transports. Col Thomas Wornham, Commanding Officer of the 27th Marines, later wrote, “I recommend that in the next operation any rehearsal such as the one held at Tinian prior to the Iwo Jima landing be absolutely eliminated…It is my opinion that the rehearsal at Tinian was of no benefit whatsoever to the combat team.”
Once all amtracs and boats were recovered, the Joint Expeditionary Force regrouped and set a course northwest. Now they were heading into enemy-controlled waters closer and closer to their final rendezvous—the island of Iwo Jima. Stuffed into the berthing compartments and tank decks of their LSTs, Marines wrote home, read the same old books and batted the breeze. The young and not-so-young Marines heading for their first taste of combat wondered about their future. The combat veterans who knew the score considered how many chances they had left in the law of averages.
LtCol Butler wrote home to his family every day during the voyage. He often told Honey Gal of the great pride and confidence he had in his Marines. The skipper and his leaders had shaped a proud and ready outfit and they were up to the tough job ahead. Like every combat leader, the Skipper was faced with the two basic charges of command—take care of your Marines and accomplish the mission.
Pfc Chuck Tatum of Stockton, Calif., was an 18 year old machine gunner in B 1/27. On the night of D-2, he was assigned to fire watch on the tank deck of his LST and decided to make himself comfortable on a pile of seabags. He felt a lump beneath his back in one of the seabags. Checking the name on the seabag, he saw that it belonged to an officer. The lump Tatum felt was a whiskey bottle, so he used his K-Bar knife to carefully cut it out of the seabag. After his relief, Tatum took the bottle of whiskey back to his squad. Another Marine had some Coca Colas, so the squad hid out in a landing boat on the deck of the LST. They made mixed drinks in their canteen cups and spent the evening shooting the breeze.
Day by day, the convoy steamed northwest at 12 knots per hour and the weather grew cooler. Marines packed their gear and made their berthing compartments shipshape. On D-1 they cleaned weapons for the final time, broke out ammunition and rations and made last minute preparations. Many of them went to religious services to make their peace with God. They tried to sleep in their packed holds, but for many, sleep wouldn’t come.
Finally, well before dawn, reveille sounded. The fleet had arrived at Iwo Jima. There was just one more leg of the journey for Landing Team 1-27, and for all the Marines who would land on D-Day, 19 February 1945.
PART III: H-MINUS
RENDEZVOUS WITH DESTINY
Well before dawn on 19 February 1945, the convoys of the Joint Amphibious Force arrived off Iwo Jima. All around the island, ships of every type dropped anchor in the predawn darkness. Sailors went to battle stations and began preparing for the coming battle. Meanwhile, the Marines who would soon hit the beach finished packing their 782 gear. Most of them had slept little in the night, and a ripple of expectancy swept through the ranks.
Marines went to chow on the brightly lit mess decks. Eating the traditional pre-assault meal of steak and eggs, some quipped, "This is the only time we ever get decent chow." They chugged down canteen cups of steaming Navy coffee, swiped apples to eat later in the day, and then moved quietly to their debarkation stations. There wasn't much idle chatter, but some new men wondered out loud whether the battle might be a pushover since the Navy and Air Force had been pounding Iwo nonstop for months. No one who knew the score took this talk seriously.
In the LSTs, infantrymen, corpsmen, radio operators, and other Marines of 1/27 climbed down the steep ladders to the tank decks. Wearing workmanlike dungaree uniforms with camouflaged helmets, they moved clumsily, struggling to keep their balance in the rolling ships. Everyone found his assigned amphibian tractor and loaded gear and supplies. NCOs and officers called the final roll to account for all hands. Then, like always in the Marine Corps, it was hurry up and wait. Boat team leaders passed out white anti-flash cream to every Marine. Smeared onto the faces and hands, the cream was supposed to protect the skin from exploding gasoline drums that intelligence said were planted on the beaches. Pfc Chuck Tatum thought the cream gave him and his buddies a ghostly complexion, like men who were already dead.
Morning dawned bright and cool over Iwo Jima, but for the enemy troops couldn't see the sun. It was blotted out by heavy smoke and dust. Before dawn, the support ships had begun the final stage of the prelanding bombardment. A continuous barrage of shells, bombs and rockets pounded every known Japanese position as the invasion fleet prepared to land the landing force. For many days, an endless stream of explosions had been hammering the island's defenders.
With many months to prepare, Japanese troops dug down into Iwo's volcanic soil, constructing a labyrinth of caves and tunnels. These defenders of Iwo had each vowed to kill ten Americans before laying down his life, and every Marine was about to face his moment of destiny.
Landing Team 1/27 was assigned to land on a nondescript 500 yard strip of beach dubbed "Red-2." The far-right-hand beach in the 5th Marine Division sector on Iwo's eastern shore, Red-2 lay about 1,500 yards from the dominating heights of Mount Suribachi. LT 1/27 was to land and attack across the southern runways of Motoyama airfield #1, then push to the O-1 line. The team's other assignment was to tie in with 4th Marine Division units on the right flank. H-Hour was set for 0900.
With no fringing reef, Iwo Jima's beaches were exposed to the ocean's full power. Heavy wave action rocked against the shoreline and swift undercurrents made boat handling difficult under the best circumstances. Close up on the beach, steep terraces from eight to twenty feet in height angled up toward the central plateau. Iwo's black sand was pulverized volcanic ash, almost like quick sand. It would play hell with men and machines in the coming battle.
HEADING IN
At 0730 bow doors on the LSTs opened. On signal, each amtrac driver gunned his engine and launched his sixteen-ton vehicle out into the ocean. In a precise choreography, the amtracs formed into waves and began circling at staging points. Meanwhile, Marines in follow-on waves climbed down the nets of their transports into pitching boats to make the run-in to the beach. In their turn, the landing boats grouped into waves and began to circle, waiting for their signal to form into assault lines.
Unlike many of the previous assaults in the Pacific, at first there was no Japanese fire directed against the fleet. Some Marines commented on this, but most watched in quiet awe as the support ships fired salvo after salvo at the enemy defenses. The morning wore on. Soon, control boats moved into position to shepherd the waves to the line of departure 4,000 yards from the beach.
The first wave crossed the LD at 0830. These were the LVT(A)-4 amtanks of the 2nd Armored Amphibian Battalion. Armed with 75mm howitzers, 11 of these vehicles were slated to land on Red-2 at H-Hour. Once ashore, the amtanks would provide close-in fire support during the final minutes before H-Hour. Two minutes behind the amtanks the second wave moved into assault formation and began heading shoreward. These were the amtracs loaded with the Marines of LT 1/27.
Every two minutes another wave lined up and left the staging area, forming into a line 500 yards wide. Once they passed the LD, it was thirty minutes to the beach. Inside the rocking machines most Marines were left to their own thoughts, trying to balance on the slippery decks. Some made their peace with God in that interval but others just waited. Boat team leaders passed the word to lock and load weapons.
Minutes before the amtanks touched down, rocket-equipped landing craft steamed ahead and loosed a salvo of over 9,000 4.5 inch rockets into the landing beaches. Sounding like ten thousand banshees, the explosions spewed geysers of smoke and dust into the sky. Still, the Japanese defenders did not answer. Pfc Chuck Tatum manned a .50 caliber machine gun on his amtrac. As it approached the shore line, he and the other gunner fired off several bursts to vent their frustration and let off steam.
On schedule at 0900, the dripping amtanks in the first wave emerged from the ocean up onto Red-2. Three hundred yards behind them, still churning toward the shore, came the second wave of amtracs full of Marines. Boat team leaders yelled for their Marines to get ready. Soon, treads began to bite against the hard beach sand and the first wave of infantry clattered ashore. It was exactly 0902, and for every Marine of LT 1-27, the battle for Iwo Jima was about to begin.
PART IV
(PART IV is missing; can't find it in google cache)
PART V: GOING NORTH
Dawn on 20 February 1945 presented the Marines around Motoyama #1 with a dismal sight. Under gray, scudding clouds, wrecked planes littered the airfield runways. Hidden among the wreckage were numerous Japanese snipers, who began their work at first light. The frontline Marines had a clear view of the D-Day landing beaches, a wasteland of smashed vehicles, broached landing craft, and the dead and dying.
On D+1, the Vth Amphibious Corps’ objective was to secure the O-1 line. The 4th and 5th Marine Divisions began to grind forward into the teeth of bitter resistance. Oriented north, with Motoyama Airfield #1 on the right flank, the 27th Marines kicked off the attack at 0855 under heavy Japanese shellfire. To provide depth to the assault, LT 1/27 followed behind LT 3/27 at a distance of 400 yards. The battalion 81mm mortar platoon remained in position by the airfield and supported LT 3/27.
THE FIGHT FOR THE O-1 LINE
As the attack drove slowly forward, Japanese heavy machine gun and antitank fire ranged across the Marines from the approaches to the Motoyama plateau. Shooting at any Marines who presented an easy target, snipers and troops hidden in bypassed bunkers also took their toll. The Marines of 1/27 now began to mop-up these enemy stay-behinds.
In a process that would repeat itself a thousand times, rifle squads and platoons responded to desperate calls for help. Often, they would arrive at the scene and find a dead Marine, shot through the head by a enemy sniper. Working carefully, the infantry Marines isolated the sniper, then approached within grenade range to kill the enemy. This was nerve-wracking and frustrating work.
The attacking Marines secured over 800 yards. Although still short of the O-1 line, the Vth Amphibious Corps now stood on the north side of Motoyama #1. At 1600, under a threatening sky, the Marines began digging in for another sleepless night. LT 1/27’s positions were emplaced to provide defense in depth behind the Marines of LT 3/27.
On every mouth were the words, “Do you think the Japs are gonna banzai tonight?” Late in the afternoon, Japanese snipers became more active, exacting a fearsome toll. In response, the Marines patrolled throughout the area. The night passed fitfully, with extensive Japanese infiltration and artillery that ranged all across the frontline and beachhead.
On D+2 (21 February) the 5th Marine Division again launched the attack north toward the O-1 line. The Japanese had built their main defensive fortifications along the southern approaches to the Motoyama plateau. Looking out from a series of ridges that stood over 100 feet high, they could observe and fire on anything that moved. After the battle, survey teams would count over 1,000 improved caves in this east-west belt, in addition to numerous pillboxes and bunkers.
LT 1/27 was again assigned as combat team reserve for the attack. After securing about 900 yards of hard-won ground, the Marines smashed up against the main enemy positions. At about 1500, enemy resistance became so fierce that the assault ground to a complete halt. During the afternoon, a dangerous gap had opened up on the seam between the 4th and 5th Marines Divisions’ zones of action. LtCol Butler dispatched Able, Baker and Charlie companies to fill in this gap. As the Marines moved forward into the frontlines, accurate and heavy artillery fire pounded them.
In an exposed position, the line companies spent the night in shell scrapes that caved in with each nearby explosion. Just before midnight, a Japanese attack formed in front of Baker Company’s position. The battalion 81mm mortar platoon and on-call artillery fire from the 13th Marines broke up the attack. As the night wore on, rain began falling, soaking the exhausted Marines. They huddled in their holes, wrapped in soggy ponchos, staring into the dark.
Daybreak on D+3 found the Marines of LT 1/27 dug in across a piece of terribly open ground. The rain continued, turning Iwo’s volcanic ash into a soupy mess. Elements of the 26th Marines moved up in the morning to execute a relief in place. Under continuous artillery bombardment, the switch took all morning and LT 1/27 Marines could not get off the positions until 1300.
DIVISIONAL RESERVE
During the afternoon, the 27th Marines passed into divisional reserve and 1/27 moved into an assembly area a few hundred yards northwest of Motoyama #1. At 1600, the landing team was alerted to reinforce LT 1/26 against a developing Japanese counterattack. The weary Marines packed their gear and humped down to a strip of ground near the western beaches. At 1800, 1/27 was relieved from this mission and returned to the assembly area.
After four days of fighting against the heavily fortified Japanese on the approaches to the Motoyama plateau, the 27th Marines was exhausted. Subsisting on a monotonous diet of k-rations and pummeled by artillery and mortar fire, the infantrymen were strained almost beyond human endurance. Until 0600 on D+8, 27 February, LT 1/27 remained in the assembly area. Each day, patrols went out on mop-up, destroying bypassed positions and killing snipers.
In reserve, weary Marines could change their socks, eat hot 10-in-1 rations, and read cherished letters from home. They slept under blankets and ponchos in holes dug into the black ash. At night, they watched the northern sky in awe as battleships and heavy artillery dueled with Japanese guns concealed in the rugged badlands. And they slept, maybe not like at home, but better than in a frontline position. Morale improved, and the line companies rebuilt and refitted.
Meanwhile, under the harshest possible conditions, other units battered themselves to the breaking point against the Japanese defensive belts. Over the course of several days, the 26th Marines and elements of the 3rd Marine Division attacked again and again in the broken terrain on the western side of Motoyama Airfield #2. With tanks, engineers and a full array of indirect fire support, Marines fought a bloody and depressing battle against interlocked concrete positions.
HILL 362A
On D+8 (27 February) the 27th Marines took over as the main assault force in the 5th Marine Division sector. Driving to the O-2 line north of Motoyama #2, a regimental attack kicked off at 0800 following a heavy artillery barrage. The ultimate goal of this action was to secure the Japanese defensive complex on Hill 362A. LT 1/27 was assigned to the center of the regimental sector. The battalion initially made good progress, pushing forward 200 yards. Then, the roof fell in.
A cluster of pillboxes in Charlie Company’s sector stood astride the battalion axis of advance. Heavy machine guns from this position raked across the battalion, forcing Marines to cover. A 75mm halftrack rumbled forward in support. Its crew destroyed one reinforced blockhouse with point blank fire. Enemy snipers engaged the halftrack, killing some crew members and forcing it to withdraw. Flamethrowers and demolition men moved up and reduced the pillboxes one by one by. This slow, dangerous work took much of the morning.
Able Company pushed forward and took a small hill with little effort. Before it was able to consolidate on the position, the Marines were pinned down by heavy fire from the flanks and rear. 1st Platoon, under 2ndLt Clair Voss of Chicago, Ill., found itself at the center of this maelstrom. The platoon was nearly annihilated in the first moments of the ambush and the stunned survivors were forced to ground by the withering fire that encircled them. Voss assessed the danger from a reinforced pillbox directly to the platoon’s front.
With hand grenades and a demolition charge, Voss worked his way forward under direct fire from the pillbox’s machine gun, and from interlocking enemy positions. Somehow, he made it to the pillbox and threw his hand grenades inside, silencing the machine gun. Realizing Japanese troops still occupied the pillbox, Voss climbed on top and set his demolition charge, all the time under heavy fire. The charge detonated, destroying the fortification. This gallant Marine was wounded during the fight, but lived to wear the Navy Cross he would earn for this day’s work.
Able Company extricated itself from the bloody hill, losing eight Marines killed and 50 wounded in the battle. The battered company went into reserve to regroup and reorganize after the punishing fight. LtCol Butler alerted Baker Company out of battalion reserve to replace Able.
In the afternoon, LtCol Butler requested tank support to destroy enemy fortifications holding up the battalion. A platoon of M4s, including a flame tank, arrived in sector, but was met with heavy mortar fire. The flame tank received a direct hit and was knocked out. But the other tanks gave very effective fire support and destroyed several pillboxes and a dug-in Japanese tank. The battalion advanced 200 yards in the afternoon.
At 1730, the weary Marines began digging in for the night. In a day of brutal, no-holds barred fighting, LT 1/27 had advanced about 500 yards in the teeth of bitter resistance. Now they were within striking distance of the defensive complex at Hill 362A, a cornerstone of the Japanese fortifications on Iwo Jima. This tall escarpment commanded the approaches to the northern end of Iwo Jima. Both sides recognized its critical role in the battle. The Japanese were absolutely determined to hold it to the last drop of blood, and the 5th Marine Division had to take it. There was simply no other choice.
FIGHTING IN HELL
The attack against 362A continued the next day, D+9 (28 February). At 0830, LT 3/27 attacked directly against the Japanese forces on the hill. LT 1/27 launched a supporting attack against a rugged complex of ridgelines that ran down from 362A to Iwo’s western coast. Like the previous day, the Marines advanced a short distance, and then ran into extremely tough opposition from Japanese defenders in reinforced pillboxes.
During LT 1/27’s initial advance, Baker Company was assigned to the left of the battalion zone, and Charlie Company to the right. Baker gained the high ground to its front, but endured 17 dead and 27 wounded in the attack. Charlie fought forward by squad and platoon under heavy, close range machine gun fire. Tanks and a 75mm halftrack assisted the infantry Marines in the fight.
1stLt Jesse Julian, of Franklinville, NC, was a platoon leader in Charlie. During the attack, some of Charlie’s Marines were blasted by intense machine gun fire and had to pull back. 1stLt Julian moved forward and took control of the withdrawing Marines. He then led his platoon in an attack to regain the ground. A short while later, Julian led a patrol up to the top of a cliff under constant sniper fire, and established a blocking position to prevent mass infiltration by the Japanese. For his skillful leadership under fire, 1stLt Julian later received the Navy Cross.
As the attacking Marines of Charlie pushed forward on completely exposed ground, one of the rifle platoons was pinned down by intense machine gun, rifle and mortar fire. Cpl Bernie Baggett, a fireteam leader from Tampa, Fla., decided to do something. Braving sheets of fire and painfully wounded in the shoulder by a sniper, Bagget found the tanks and guided them to help his platoon. He designated targets for the tanks and was again wounded. Despite his wounds, Baggett refused evacuation until the Japanese position was destroyed.
Taking heavy casualties, Charlie Company stalled short of the ridgeline. At 1630, Able Company executed a passage of lines and replaced their hard-hit brothers. Charlie then went into battalion reserve and hastily reorganized. During the relief, a Japanese counterattack developed in front of Able but was repulsed.
The fight for the ridge complex west of 362A was a confusing, bloody, disappointing struggle in a nightmare landscape. Skillfully using every fold of terrain to the maximum advantage, the Japanese took a fearsome toll on the Marines. To the east, 3/27 was unable to take the main objective and the attack effectively ground to a halt. The 27th Marines—short of ammunition, bled dry, and with huge gaps in its ranks—needed relief desperately.
After a quiet night spent huddled in foxholes staring watchfully into the dark, the 27th Marines passed into division reserve. LT 2/28 moved up from the Suribachi sector on the morning of 1 March and relieved LT 1/27. Hiking wearily down to an assembly area 800 yards west of Motoyama #2, the battalion was now faced with the daunting task of reorganizing and refitting after taking terrible losses.
PART VI: THE BADLANDS
The 27th Marine Regiment was a shadow of the powerful force that assaulted Iwo Jima’s beaches on D-Day. Every unit in the regiment, most importantly the infantry battalions, desperately needed to replenish and reconsolidate. After battering themselves against the reinforced Japanese defenses, the surviving Marines were worn almost beyond endurance. Many of the regiment’s Marines—too many—now rested beneath wooden crosses, or waited silently for graves registration teams to police them from the battlefield.
On the next day, D+11, elements of the 26th and 28th Marines completed the final destruction of the Japanese defenses on and around Hill 362A. The 5th Marine Division had paid dearly for every yard captured. Since the D-Day landing, the division had suffered 1,000 Marines killed, 3,244 wounded and 49 missing. The 3rd and 4th Marine Divisions fighting in other sectors had endured similar casualty rates.
A trickle of replacements made their way to the frontline units. The 27th Marines Action Report would later make note of this: “The replacements were certainly totally unsatisfactory. Replacement personnel come for the most part from shore party personnel. They were supplied either in driblets or in groups of approximately 100 men. The officers for the most part did not know the men and they certainly knew very little, if anything, about combat.”
These young men were faced with the daunting task of surviving in one of the most rugged battles of World War II. They were loyal, and did their duty the best they knew how. Many of them paid for the shortcomings in the replacement system with their lives.
Most of the company leaders had been either killed or wounded. The battalion staff sections were also operating at reduced efficiency because of casualties. For example, 1stLt James Rain operated as the adjutant, and intelligence officer. Casualties in the administrative section made normal reporting impossible, which caused major problems tracking the whereabouts and status of the battalion’s Marines.
On 1 March, LT 1/27 went into an assembly area near a crossroad about 500 yards northwest of Motoyama Airfield #2. The battalion spent what passed as a quiet day on Iwo Jima. They ate hot 10-in-1 rations, cleaned weapons, and had mail call. Most importantly, they took advantage of the chance to sleep. But the battle was never far away. The next day, the battalion received orders to provide defensive support for the 26th Marines. The Marines saddled up and moved to a road junction about 400 yards to the west and occupied the area for the night.
The Vth Amphibious Corps was pushing hard against the toughest portion of the Japanese defenses. In this bewildering and jumbled moonscape, each draw and ravine held a reinforced position that interlocked with other defenses. Artillery, close air support and naval gunfire were employed for massive preparatory bombardments, but were often ineffective against the expertly dug-in enemy troops.
A HERO EVERY MINUTE
On D+12 (3 March) LT 1/27 was attached to the 26th Marines at 1030. Baker Company went to LT 2/26 in the fight for Hill 362B to help relieve pressure on the 3rd Marine Division. In combat with hand grenades, flamethrowers and bazookas, 2/26 advanced 600 yards against fierce resistance. After the battle Baker was released back to battalion control. The rest of the battalion remained in the assembly area. That night, Japanese infiltrators were active throughout the 26th Marines sector and over 100 were killed.
The next day was unseasonably warm, with low, overhanging clouds and intermittent showers. LT 1/27 was assigned to the right flank of the 26th Marine s’ sector. Under heavy mortar fire, the line companies moved to about 500 yards northeast of the unfinished Motoyama Airfield #3. The battalion sector was wide enough for only one company. Charlie went first and the attack kicked off at 0800.
The attack on D+13 ground forward yard by bloody yard. In a process that repeated itself over and over, platoons advanced cautiously using whatever cover and concealment was available. Once the enemy opened fire and exposed his location, infantry Marines laid down covering fire to maneuver a demolition team and flamethrowers forward. These fearsome weapons would then destroy the position, usually a reinforced cave mouth.
Pfc Wesley Eagle, from Onamia, Minn., first distinguished himself on 4 March during the fighting north of Motoyama #3. As a BAR man and fireteam leader in Charlie Company, Eagle boldly led his Marines in an assault to divert attention from litter teams recovering wounded Marines in his pinned down platoon. Although he was severely wounded in this action, Eagle refused evacuation since he was the only BAR man left in his platoon. While delivering covering fire for his fellow Marines, Eagle was wounded a second time, but remained in position until all the wounded Marines had been pulled off the exposed ground.
LtCol Butler pulled Charlie out of the line at 1600 due to heavy casualties and Baker Company moved up in relief. The attack continued at a snail’s pace under extremely heavy fire. By 1800, the Marines had secured 100 yards of hard won ground. The battalion halted in place for the night on a nameless piece of ground. That night, LtCol Butler penned a hasty letter to Honey Gal, only his second since the start of the campaign. He wrote that he was sitting in “one of Tojo’s caves,” and that he had lots to say that he couldn’t write in a letter.
The entire 5th Marine Division was ordered to use the next day, 5 March 1945, to reorganize and reconsolidate. Huge gaps had been torn across the ranks and there was no way to make up the losses. Division headquarters rated combat effectiveness at 40%.
On D+13 (5 March) LT 1/27 was detached from the 26th Marines and reverted back to its parent unit. During the morning elements of LT 1/26 moved up and took over the battalion’s sector. The line companies hiked back to an assembly area about 400 yards northwest of Motoyama village. Road Junction 338 was located near the assembly area. This junction was on the main supply route for the 26th Marines and other units in the 5th Marine Division’s northeast sector.
THE DEATH OF LTCOL BUTLER
About 1300, LtCol Butler mounted his jeep to head back to the regimental command post. With him were his driver, Pfc Stanley Barnett, and his radio operator. As the jeep bounced across country just west of the road junction, a Japanese 47mm antitank gun in the 3rd Marine Division sector fired. Struck by a direct hit, the jeep was destroyed, wounding the two enlisted Marines. LtCol John Butler was killed instantly. For his heroism leading LT 1/27 during the Iwo Jima campaign, the skipper would receive a posthumous Navy Cross.
Pfc Chuck Tatum, B 1/27, remembered the reaction: “The word about [LtCol Butler’s] death swept through the ranks of the 1st Battalion like a wildfire. It was whispered from position to position. Those bastards got the Colonel! The news was a shock. A stillness fell on the battalion. The loss of LtCol Butler was hard to take. If the leader has fallen, who will be next? Morale was affected. LtCol Butler was an admired and respected officer and leader of men.”
Doctor James Vedder, battalion surgeon of 3/27, related the following conversation with his commander, LtCol Donn Robertson, about LtCol Butler's death: "While the coffee was brewing on our Coleman stove, Colonel Robertson stopped in for one of his routine visits. As he settled slowly to the ground to accept a cup of hot coffee, he appeared both weary and worried. His usual calm self-assurance seemed shaken for the first time.
"What's gone wrong, Colonel?"
"Plenty, the Nips bagged Butler's jeep at a road junction southwest of here."
"How bad is he hurt?"
"Killed instantly."
"Who'll take over the 1st Battalion?"
"Wornham is sending up Colonel Duryea from regimental headquarters."
"I hope he can fill Butler's shoes…"
After the skipper died, LtCol Duryea, regimental operations officer, was sent to take over LT 1/27. On 6 March, the battalion spent the day in the assembly area. The line companies reorganized as well as they could. The next two days, companies and platoons were deployed individually to support other elements of the 27th Marines. Able went to LT 2/27, and remained there during the next several days. The objective was to push toward Kitano Point to Iwo Jima’s north coast.
ABOVE AND BEYOND
The battalion was committed to the attack again northeast of Hill 362B on D+18 (9 March). In a column of companies, Charlie Company took the lead, followed by Baker. The enemy had every yard zeroed in with heavy weapons and seemed to have a plentiful supply of knee mortar rounds.
PltSgt Joseph Julian, from Sturbridge, Mass., was a platoon sergeant in Charlie Company. In a desperate attempt to stop the attack, Japanese troops laid down a terrific machine gun and mortar barrage against the exposed Marines. Eight Marines died and fourteen were wounded in this withering blast of fire. PltSgt Julian quickly deployed his platoon in support and moved forward. With white phosphorous grenades and satchel charges, he destroyed the closest pillbox. As enemy troops ran from the ruined position, Julian killed five before they could escape.
Returning back to Charlie’s lines, Julian found more satchel charges. With another Marine, he destroyed two cave positions by sealing them with explosives. One pillbox remained from the cluster. Julian got a bazooka from another Marine and, acting alone, fired four rounds into the pillbox, destroying it. Mortally wounded by enemy small arms fire, Julian fell on the battlefield. For his heroic actions that saved the lives of many Marines, PltSgt Julian was later awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor.
That afternoon, LtCol Duryea was severely wounded in a landmine explosion. Upon his evacuation the executive officer, Maj William Tumbleston, took command of LT 1/27. In a day of hard fighting the battalion advanced 100 yards and dug in for the night on exposed terrain.
The next day (D+19) the dogged assault continued. The Marines were stalled by very heavy point blank fire and had to wait until 0900 for tanks to show up. The companies shifted in sector to cover an open right flank but couldn’t make any appreciable gains. During this battle, Charlie Company drew the mission to knock out an 8-inch gun and supporting pillboxes. Pfc Wesley Eagle was in the thick of this fight. He led his fireteam around to the flank of a pillbox. Hit by enemy fire and mortally wounded, Eagle died while his Marines reduced the position. He later received a posthumous Navy Cross for his heroism on 4 and 10 March 1945.
D+20 (11 March) was a repeat of the previous days. The entire 27th Marine Regiment, with LT 1/26 attached, launched a regimental attack on the right flank of the 5th Marine Division sector. Just prior to the attack friendly artillery fired a heavy concentration into the battalion’s position, causing numerous casualties. The assault companies kicked off the attack on schedule at 0830.
On the right, Baker Company gained 350 yards against fierce opposition in heavily broken sandstone draws. On the left however, Charlie could only advance 100 yards against point blank, heavy machine gun fire. During this action and on subsequent days a tank platoon, a flame tank and a tankdozer were attached to the battalion. Maj Tumbleston gave the order to halt and straighten the lines at 1800.
ABOVE AND BEYOND
The battalion was committed to the attack again northeast of Hill 362B on D+18 (9 March). In a column of companies, Charlie Company took the lead, followed by Baker. The enemy had every yard zeroed in with heavy weapons and seemed to have a plentiful supply of knee mortar rounds.
PltSgt Joseph Julian, from Sturbridge, Mass., was a platoon sergeant in Charlie Company. In a desperate attempt to stop the attack, Japanese troops laid down a terrific machine gun and mortar barrage against the exposed Marines. Eight Marines died and fourteen were wounded in this withering blast of fire. PltSgt Julian quickly deployed his platoon in support and moved forward. With white phosphorous grenades and satchel charges, he destroyed the closest pillbox. As enemy troops ran from the ruined position, Julian killed five before they could escape.
Returning back to Charlie’s lines, Julian found more satchel charges. With another Marine, he destroyed two cave positions by sealing them with explosives. One pillbox remained from the cluster. Julian got a bazooka from another Marine and, acting alone, fired four rounds into the pillbox, destroying it. Mortally wounded by enemy small arms fire, Julian fell on the battlefield. For his heroic actions that saved the lives of many Marines, PltSgt Julian was later awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor.
That afternoon, LtCol Duryea was severely wounded in a landmine explosion. Upon his evacuation the executive officer, Maj William Tumbleston, took command of LT 1/27. In a day of hard fighting the battalion advanced 100 yards and dug in for the night on exposed terrain.
The next day (D+19) the dogged assault continued. The Marines were stalled by very heavy point blank fire and had to wait until 0900 for tanks to show up. The companies shifted in sector to cover an open right flank but couldn’t make any appreciable gains. During this battle, Charlie Company drew the mission to knock out an 8-inch gun and supporting pillboxes. Pfc Wesley Eagle was in the thick of this fight. He led his fireteam around to the flank of a pillbox. Hit by enemy fire and mortally wounded, Eagle died while his Marines reduced the position. He later received a posthumous Navy Cross for his heroism on 4 and 10 March 1945.
D+20 (11 March) was a repeat of the previous days. The entire 27th Marine Regiment, with LT 1/26 attached, launched a regimental attack on the right flank of the 5th Marine Division sector. Just prior to the attack friendly artillery fired a heavy concentration into the battalion’s position, causing numerous casualties. The assault companies kicked off the attack on schedule at 0830.
On the right, Baker Company gained 350 yards against fierce opposition in heavily broken sandstone draws. On the left however, Charlie could only advance 100 yards against point blank, heavy machine gun fire. During this action and on subsequent days a tank platoon, a flame tank and a tankdozer were attached to the battalion. Maj Tumbleston gave the order to halt and straighten the lines at 1800.
PART VII: TO THE BITTER END
On 11 March 1945 the Iwo Jima operation entered its final phase. Locked in a tightening band of steel, the Japanese defenders were determined to continue their fanatical resistance to the last man. As Marines of the 3rd, 4th and 5th Marine Divisions secured more and more territory, the enemy defenses broke up into individual pockets. Each of these had to be reduced at close quarters by fire, flame and explosives. The Japanese would not go easily.
On D+21 (12 March) the attack ground forward toward Iwo’s north coast. The terrain became progressively worse as the Marines pushed deeper and deeper into the sandstone wilderness of Iwo’s badlands. Making use of every tactical advantage, the Japanese employed expert reverse slope defenses and often launched small counterattacks. They held their fire until American units were too close for artillery support and emplaced mines extensively. During this day’s fighting, LT 1/27 advanced a total of 150 yards. Engineers had to destroy every single cave mouth in sector. Both gun and flame tanks supported the battalion in this work. It was close range, brutal fighting. As always, the infantry Marines paid by the heaviest price.
Pfc Salvador Vargas of Cardiff by the Sea, Calif., was a runner in Charlie Company. While delivering a message to a platoon leader in this attack, Vargas spotted a cluster of pillboxes with heavy machine guns that were chewing into the exposed Marines. Alone, Vargas worked his way forward and destroyed one of the pillboxes with grenades. Then he went to the next and did the same thing, destroying the pillbox and killing the occupants.
Painfully wounded in the chest and leg, Pfc Vargas crossed open ground under withering fire and destroyed the third pillbox. With the emplacements silenced, Charlie was able to advance forward to Vargas’ position. He refused evacuation until ordered to the rear by his commander. For this heroic action, Vargas would later receive the Navy Cross.
On 13 March, the battalion advanced 300 yards against tough resistance, but the attack was stopped by intense fire from a draw to the front. The line companies dug in at 1700 for the night. Shortly after dark, Charlie Company began receiving point blank fire from an 8-inch gun that had been abandoned and reoccupied by the Japanese. Bazooka man Pfc Donald Schmille of Kansas City, Kans., crept forward of Charlie’s position. The Japanese gunners spotted Schmille, and attempted to stop him with a barrage of hand grenades. Schmille stood up to get a good sight picture and destroyed the gun and crew with his bazooka. His heroic act saved the lives of many Marines and Schmille later received the Navy Cross.
THE BREAKING POINT
D+23 (14 March) found the battalion again on the attack for the sixth consecutive day. In a day of difficult fighting, the Marines won a total of 350 yards with tank support. Maj Tumbleston was wounded and evacuated. Maj William Kennedy, 3/27 operations officer, took over the battalion During the attack, 1stLt William Van Beest, last of Charlie Company’s original officers, was killed. The LT 1/27 Action report noted in the entry for 14 March: “At this time the fighting strength of each company was approximately 60 men, 80 percent of whom were untrained replacements.”
Now it was a race for time. The 5th Marine Division was well beyond exhaustion and all hands were hanging on by a thin thread. In addition to a draining toll of dead and wounded, many Marines simply could not stand the terrible strain of day after day close combat. Their reserves exhausted and nerves shattered, these young men had to be evacuated like any casualty. The numbers were stacking up and those still standing felt like fugitives from the law of averages.
But the Japanese defenses were beginning to crack under the relentless pressure of bullets, explosives and flame. On 15 March, the Marines of LT 1/27 drove forward 350 yards to the top of a ridge where they could see Iwo Jima’s northern shore. They dug in for the night overlooking the sea. The next day, the 3rd Marine Division secured Kitano Point. The Marines of LT 1/27 packed their gear and loaded on trucks for a ride back to the beach.
The assembly area was located near White beach on Iwo’s western coast. LT 1/27 was ordered to reorganize with a headquarters and two under strength rifle companies: Able and Baker. For Baker and HQ, the battle for Iwo Jima was effectively over, but Able had more dying to do. The supply section distributed ammo and rations and Marines cleaned their weapons. Then, like always, they waited.
Able, Dog, George, and Item Companies were assigned to a composite battalion built around the remnants of LT 3/27. LtCol Donn Robertson was assigned to command this unit, which only had about 470 Marines. The composite battalion was attached to the 26th Marines for the 5th Marine Division’s final battle on Iwo Jima.
THE GORGE
The Gorge was a 700-yard long box canyon on Iwo’s northwest coast. About 500 diehard Japanese troops held out there. The Gorge was broken by numerous draws and rock outcrops, each of which hid a reinforced position with plentiful ammunition. Well situated for suicidal defense, the Gorge had to be secured before the 5th Marine Division could report, “mission complete”.
On D+28 (19 March) Able and George Companies moved up to the Gorge. At 1515 they launched an attack against the northeastern shoulder with tanks and support by the 5th Pioneer Battalion. Meanwhile, elements of the 26th and 28th Marines pushed against the west and south sides. In a tough process under heavy fire, tankdozers built roads into the Gorge to direct point blank 75mm fire and flame onto the Japanese. The line companies moved into a night defensive position. All night long, the Japanese fired mortar rounds into the Marine lines and their snipers remained active.
On D+29 Able Company attacked on schedule at 0730. They ran into intense heavy machine gun and rifle fire, preventing further movement for the rest of the day. Pfc Daniel Albaugh of Glendale, Calif., was one of Able’s BAR men. A concealed pillbox pinned down his platoon during the initial assault. Albaugh exposed himself to withering fire to spot the emplacement. Then he found a bazooka and advanced under incredible fire. Unable to find a covered position, Albaugh moved directly in front of the pillbox. Then he fired three bazooka rounds at the emplacement, destroying it. Mortally wounded in the action, this gallant Marine fell on the battlefield. For his heroism, Pfc Albaugh was later awarded a posthumous Navy Cross.
Over the next several days, the composite battalion pushed deeper into the Gorge. Supporting flame tanks used up to 10,000 gallons of napalm each day burning out Japanese positions. Pioneers worked ceaselessly to destroy each cave with demolition charges. The advancing Marines encountered Japanese troops in spider holes, heavy sniper fire, and knee mortar barrages, but advanced over 300 yards. By dusk on D+31 (22 March) enemy resistance in the battalion sector of the Gorge was broken. The next morning, at the end of a long, long journey, Able Company was released from the composite battalion and returned back to LT 1/27.
PART VIII: AFTER
THE END OF A BATTLE
For the survivors of Landing Team 1/27, the battle was over. The war still went on and Iwo Jima was bursting at the seams with activity. While the Marines had been bleeding and dying in the badlands, engineers and Seabees turned Iwo’s airfields into bustling fighter and bomber bases. The place was far different from that morning when Americans had first set foot on the island so long ago.
Before shoving off from the island, thousands of Marines made the pilgrimage to visit their buddies in the 5th Marine Division Cemetery. Alone and in small groups, men wandered among the rows of graves. Finding a best friend or a battle buddy, they stopped to read the simple inscription on a white cross or Star of David. There were so many graves. A few feet of volcanic ash separated the living from their dead buddies but, the gap yawned wide.
In that solemn place, Marines remembered little things. They thought of the difference in fractions of an inch between life and death and were humbled by the sacrifice of those who had died for them. Remembering their best friends and shared experiences, young men struggled to make sense of it all. Many would spend years asking questions like, “Why so many and not me?”
In the future, some would refight the battle in the quiet places of their lives. And every Marine wandering through the cemetery would carry a piece of Iwo Jima with him as long as he lived. For now though these young men were just glad to be alive.
On 23 March 1945 the remnants of 1/27 boarded transports and sailed from Iwo Jima back to Camp Tarawa. In a sense, the voyage to Hawaii was the start of a new journey. Only a handful of the Marines who had landed on D-Day were still standing in the ranks. They climbed up the cargo nets aboard ship and entered a world very different from the one they had just left. The ships were clean and bright with plenty of hot chow, unlike the privations, noise and clinging death of Iwo Jima.
The 1st Battalion, 27th Marines paid a high price for its part in the campaign for bloody Iwo. Eleven of the battalion’s officers and 222 enlisted Marines died in combat. In addition, 27 officers and 530 enlisted Marines were wounded. Many of the wounded would carry the scars of battle for the rest of their lives. In the scale of suffering for victory, 1/27’s tally of 790 Marines killed or wounded was among the highest of the infantry battalion’s that fought on Iwo.
Once back in Camp Tarawa, many wrote to the families of the lost. These poignant letters told of shared memories, the bonds of friendship and many other things. Commanders of fallen Marines sent their condolences to the next of kin of fallen Marines. Col Wornham wrote to Honey Gal about her husband.
Wornham wrote: “Without a doubt this is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write in my life. Nothing that I say will relieve your grief I know, but it may help just a little to know that many others and myself in particular, share your grief.
“Before I left the island I went down to the cemetery to say goodbye to all our personnel resting there at peace with the world. It was quiet—the guns now still—just the way they gave their lives to have it, they, the real heroes of Iwo Jima.
“Mrs. Butler I want you to know that in that cemetery, where so many of my officers and men rest, I said my final goodbye to John. It isn’t much I know, but of them all he was my most devoted and closest friend. He was, Mrs. Butler, a loyal officer and a gallant leader. The Marine Corps could not afford to lose him.”
Some letters contained information about how a Marine died without revealing details that were too painful to read, or write about. LtCol Frank DeSantis, one of John’s best friends, wrote Honey Gal just after the battle: “By now you must already know how it happened. He was killed on March 5th. That means he had been through over ten days of bitter fighting…Tom Wornham said John was the fightenest man he has ever seen. When it came, he was just coming out of the line, his battalion was scheduled for a rest. As it was described to me John had just gotten in his jeep to drive to the rear when a Jap shell landed under the jeep. He never suffered Denise and it was much, much better that way.”
Heartsick and tired, the survivors arrived in Hawaii. Back at Camp Tarawa, divisional headquarters ordered all units to allow Marines to rest and recuperate. Slowly, the wounds healed and men began to live again. New replacements streamed into Camp Tarawa. They stood in awe of the combat veterans, most of whom were still teenagers grown old before their time.
During the summer of 1945 events moved quickly. The 5th Marine Division began a new training program for the planned invasion of Japan. Beginning with individual tasks, the routine of training started again. In August, news of the atomic bombs spread like wildfire. On 14 August 1945, the Japanese empire surrendered unconditionally.
GOING HOME
The 5th Marine Division set sail once again, this time bound for Japan itself. From September–December 1945, the division took part in the occupation force. Then, its World War II mission complete, the Spearhead Marines returned home. The infantry battalions of the 27th Marines were deactivated in early January 1946. Most of the Marines returned to civilian life, but a handful remained on active duty.
In America’s consciousness, the flagraising on Mount Suribachi became the iconic image of World War II. Oddly enough, most of the Marines in 1/27 didn’t see the flag going up. They were locked in battle and facing the wrong way. Nevertheless, they helped raise the flag as surely as if they were on top of the volcano that day.
LtCol Butler built a fine battalion, one that any commander would have been proud of. A professional Marine, he put the stamp of excellence in everything his Marines did. The skipper had a bunch of great leaders to help him, Marines like Gunny Basilone, PltSgt Joseph Julian, 2ndLt Clair Voss and many others. Leading from the front, these men were faced with the two imperatives of leading men in war; taking care of their Marines, and mission accomplishment. In the cold equation of war, the battalion leaders set the example every day and many of them died on Iwo’s black sands, or up in the rugged badlands.
Almost all of the key leaders in 1/27 who landed with the battalion on D-Day were wounded or killed during the campaign. These Marines had trained and led their men for over a year prior to Iwo Jima. In the crucible of combat, leadership at every level often made the difference between victory and utter defeat. From LtCol Butler right down to the newest fireteam leader, each officer and noncommissioned officer did his utmost to win.
Many Americans recognize the name John Basilone. Some even know he was one of America’s first living Medal of Honor recipients in World War II and that he died on Iwo Jima. Most don’t have any idea of the heroic role he played on Red Beach 2. But he wasn’t alone.
The Marine Corps did many things very well in World War II. One of the most notable was its organic ability to build new units that held together, fought and prevailed in the shock of their first time in combat. Arguably, no other military service did this quite as well as the United States Marine Corps. The 1st Battalion, 27th Marines demonstrated this admirably on Iwo Jima.
Iwo Jima was the toughest combat of World War II. It was the only battle of the Pacific war in which the Japanese inflicted more casualties than they took. Marine units kept fighting well past the point where they would have been classed as “combat ineffective” under normal circumstances. But the fighting on Iwo was anything but normal.
Victory in battle was not an accident. It was the result of training, unit cohesion and esprit de corps—and good men. Technology played a role. Yet in the final tally, the young Marines on Iwo Jima won the day, not their weapons. Each Marine who served in LtCol Butler’s battalion performed heroically. Simply by shouldering his gear and moving into battle, the infantry Marine exhibited bravery that cannot and should not be forgotten. Standing fast in the face of fear—watching friends die—continuing the mission—these were daily, even hourly facts of life on Iwo Jima.
The Marine Corps has always maintained a fierce, almost tribal view about itself. Phrases like “Marines never quit” are more than just empty words to those who wear the Eagle, Globe and Anchor. On Iwo Jima, and a thousand other battlefields, these words have meant the difference between victory and defeat.
Iwo Jima itself was just a small volcanic island in a vast war, but what happened there during 36 days in 1945 was something extraordinary. On a hellish machine-age battlefield, young men under fire accomplished the impossible; they hammered their bodies against concrete and steel. Against all odds, the concrete and steel gave way. It could not hold against a few good men.
