thedrifter
02-19-08, 06:37 AM
Families rejoin ties forged fighting on Iwo Jima
By Richard Robbins
TRIBUNE-REVIEW
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Sixty-three years after Marines stormed the beaches of a Pacific island known as Iwo Jima, Mary Frances White finally met the man who was with her father, Roy Hamilton "Pinky" Giles, the day he was killed by a Japanese explosive during World War II.
The surprise is that all these years they were practically neighbors -- White lives in Franklin Park in Allegheny County, and ex-Marine James Foley resides in Lower Burrell.
"I couldn't believe it," said 68-year-old White.
Giles, of Atlanta, was placing three letters from home in his breast pocket when a shell or a hand grenade landed next to him, Foley said. The blast tore a hole in the left side of Giles' body.
Foley, now 81, was struck by shrapnel in the explosion.
"The doctors told me it came within an eighth of an inch of my jugular (vein)," he said.
The two Marines had taken shelter in a ravine not far from Hill 382, in a portion of Iwo Jima dubbed "the meat grinder." Moments before the blast, Giles ordered Foley to move to a spot about 10 feet away.
The order probably saved his life, Foley said.
"I have no idea what he had in mind," he said.
For White; her sister, Joyce Amos of Hayward, Calif.; and her brother, Roy Boll of Houston, the fact that Foley is alive and well represents a kind of miracle.
Giles' family knew little about their father's death. The military had told their mother that he was killed by an enemy sniper.
"We never really knew what happened," Boll said in a telephone interview. "I have always wondered about it."
Landing on Iwo Jima
The three Giles children were preschoolers when their father left Atlanta for the war. They have little recollection of him.
"Pinky" Giles was 28 years old when the Marines landed on Iwo Jima on Feb. 19, 1945, for some of the bloodiest fighting of World War II.
About 70,000 Marines invaded the barren waste of an island with the objective of dislodging the 27,000 Japanese soldiers who were holed up in caves and concrete blockhouses.
"Pinky" Giles got his nickname from his red hair and his complexion. Foley first met him in the early morning hours of Feb. 24, five days after the Marines hit the beaches.
"The sergeant said to me, 'This is Pinky Giles. You'll be his assistant.' The guy who was with Pinky said he wanted to stick with him. The sergeant said he wanted an experienced man (Giles) with an inexperienced man (Foley) together."
Giles and Foley formed a two-man Browning Automatic Rifle team. Giles handled the weapon, Foley the ammunition.
Giles was a crack shot and a stalwart Marine, Foley said. Once, Giles felled a Japanese soldier with a burst of bullets that tattooed the man's forehead, right above the eyes.
Foley, who suffered from nightmares related to combat until just a few years ago, said Giles "was easygoing. He never got excited or anxious."
At 10:30 a.m. on March 7, 1945, the tiny piece of Iwo Jima real estate occupied by the two was fog-covered.
"The day seemed calm," Foley remembered. "Like the war was over. I really can't describe it. It was like you were in limbo. War is one limbo. This was another."
Suddenly, that all ended. Giles died instantly, Foley said.
"There were no words, no moaning."
Giles was one of 7,000 Americans to die on Iwo Jima. Nearly all of the island's Japanese defenders died in the fighting, which continued until March 25.
'A psychological blow'
Boll was 5 years old the day the telegram arrived announcing his father's death. He recalls standing next to his mother. She went running off in tears, he said.
"My father's death was a psychological blow to me," Boll said. "There was a void inside me. I still kind of wish I had him."
The Giles children said their father's death devastated their mother and forever altered the course of their lives.
"When dad passed away, (mother) went back home to Mobile, Ala.," White said.
Boll described a bewildering childhood fraught with loneliness. Amos said she and her siblings were "ostracized" from her father's family.
"If my dad had lived, I'm sure my whole life would have been different," White said.
All of the children said they would have remained in Georgia surrounded by family and with their father alongside to help guide them.
"I think my brother suffered the most," said Amos, 65. "He was expected to be the man of the family. It was too much to ask of a small boy."
Fate unites families
Three years ago, on the 60th anniversary of Iwo Jima, Foley was featured in a Tribune-Review story. Last month, Boll was randomly searching the Internet for members of the Giles family who still might be living in the Atlanta area when up popped his father's name in connection with Foley.
Thinking that Lower Burrell might be near his sister's home in Western Pennsylvania, he immediately contacted her. Soon, White's son, David Paul White, was on the phone to Foley.
The three of them got together for the first time three weeks ago.
"It was hard to believe," Foley said.
"How could something like this happen?" White asked. "You have to believe in fate."
Amos said she hopes to meet Foley. "I'd love to see him," she said from her home near San Francisco. "I'd love to meet the man who knew my dad, who was with him on the last day of his life."
Richard Robbins can be reached at rrobbins@tribweb.com or 724-836-5660.
Ellie
By Richard Robbins
TRIBUNE-REVIEW
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Sixty-three years after Marines stormed the beaches of a Pacific island known as Iwo Jima, Mary Frances White finally met the man who was with her father, Roy Hamilton "Pinky" Giles, the day he was killed by a Japanese explosive during World War II.
The surprise is that all these years they were practically neighbors -- White lives in Franklin Park in Allegheny County, and ex-Marine James Foley resides in Lower Burrell.
"I couldn't believe it," said 68-year-old White.
Giles, of Atlanta, was placing three letters from home in his breast pocket when a shell or a hand grenade landed next to him, Foley said. The blast tore a hole in the left side of Giles' body.
Foley, now 81, was struck by shrapnel in the explosion.
"The doctors told me it came within an eighth of an inch of my jugular (vein)," he said.
The two Marines had taken shelter in a ravine not far from Hill 382, in a portion of Iwo Jima dubbed "the meat grinder." Moments before the blast, Giles ordered Foley to move to a spot about 10 feet away.
The order probably saved his life, Foley said.
"I have no idea what he had in mind," he said.
For White; her sister, Joyce Amos of Hayward, Calif.; and her brother, Roy Boll of Houston, the fact that Foley is alive and well represents a kind of miracle.
Giles' family knew little about their father's death. The military had told their mother that he was killed by an enemy sniper.
"We never really knew what happened," Boll said in a telephone interview. "I have always wondered about it."
Landing on Iwo Jima
The three Giles children were preschoolers when their father left Atlanta for the war. They have little recollection of him.
"Pinky" Giles was 28 years old when the Marines landed on Iwo Jima on Feb. 19, 1945, for some of the bloodiest fighting of World War II.
About 70,000 Marines invaded the barren waste of an island with the objective of dislodging the 27,000 Japanese soldiers who were holed up in caves and concrete blockhouses.
"Pinky" Giles got his nickname from his red hair and his complexion. Foley first met him in the early morning hours of Feb. 24, five days after the Marines hit the beaches.
"The sergeant said to me, 'This is Pinky Giles. You'll be his assistant.' The guy who was with Pinky said he wanted to stick with him. The sergeant said he wanted an experienced man (Giles) with an inexperienced man (Foley) together."
Giles and Foley formed a two-man Browning Automatic Rifle team. Giles handled the weapon, Foley the ammunition.
Giles was a crack shot and a stalwart Marine, Foley said. Once, Giles felled a Japanese soldier with a burst of bullets that tattooed the man's forehead, right above the eyes.
Foley, who suffered from nightmares related to combat until just a few years ago, said Giles "was easygoing. He never got excited or anxious."
At 10:30 a.m. on March 7, 1945, the tiny piece of Iwo Jima real estate occupied by the two was fog-covered.
"The day seemed calm," Foley remembered. "Like the war was over. I really can't describe it. It was like you were in limbo. War is one limbo. This was another."
Suddenly, that all ended. Giles died instantly, Foley said.
"There were no words, no moaning."
Giles was one of 7,000 Americans to die on Iwo Jima. Nearly all of the island's Japanese defenders died in the fighting, which continued until March 25.
'A psychological blow'
Boll was 5 years old the day the telegram arrived announcing his father's death. He recalls standing next to his mother. She went running off in tears, he said.
"My father's death was a psychological blow to me," Boll said. "There was a void inside me. I still kind of wish I had him."
The Giles children said their father's death devastated their mother and forever altered the course of their lives.
"When dad passed away, (mother) went back home to Mobile, Ala.," White said.
Boll described a bewildering childhood fraught with loneliness. Amos said she and her siblings were "ostracized" from her father's family.
"If my dad had lived, I'm sure my whole life would have been different," White said.
All of the children said they would have remained in Georgia surrounded by family and with their father alongside to help guide them.
"I think my brother suffered the most," said Amos, 65. "He was expected to be the man of the family. It was too much to ask of a small boy."
Fate unites families
Three years ago, on the 60th anniversary of Iwo Jima, Foley was featured in a Tribune-Review story. Last month, Boll was randomly searching the Internet for members of the Giles family who still might be living in the Atlanta area when up popped his father's name in connection with Foley.
Thinking that Lower Burrell might be near his sister's home in Western Pennsylvania, he immediately contacted her. Soon, White's son, David Paul White, was on the phone to Foley.
The three of them got together for the first time three weeks ago.
"It was hard to believe," Foley said.
"How could something like this happen?" White asked. "You have to believe in fate."
Amos said she hopes to meet Foley. "I'd love to see him," she said from her home near San Francisco. "I'd love to meet the man who knew my dad, who was with him on the last day of his life."
Richard Robbins can be reached at rrobbins@tribweb.com or 724-836-5660.
Ellie