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thedrifter
02-19-08, 08:06 AM
Letter of the day: Remembering sacrifice, 63 years later

February 18, 2008

Sixty-three years ago, more than 60,000 Marines undertook a mission that brought the war to the front doorstep of Japan. Iwo Jima became the most vicious and costly battle fought by the Marines in World War II.

I was a bow machine-gunner in one of the 68 armored amphibian tanks of the Second Armored Tank Battalion. Our mission was to provide firepower all the way to the beach. More than 6,000 Marines who witnessed and cheered the raising of the famous flag on top of Mount Suribachi did not live to see another flag raised. I wrote this poem for the families of the thousands who were killed in battle and buried in that hot volcanic sand. May we never forget their sacrifices.

Before the dawning of each new day, as we slowly begin to awake, our minds flash back to those turbulent days on a volcanic island we had to take.

Three score years plus three have passed since we stormed that distant beach. We were young, strong, ready to fight and trained to use all our leaders could teach.

The slaughter that took place on the bloody volcanic shore became the supreme test for weapons and man forever more.

High on top of Suribachi our flag went up on "D" plus four. Six thousand Marines who saw and cheered before the battle's final phase would see their flag no more.

Those of us who survived live on for those who gave it all, wondering how and why we came through unscathed and standing tall.

History will probably treat us well and memorials will forever stand to remember those who died and were buried in that volcanic sand.

The brutality of battle is burned in our minds even after all those years. Reflecting back on those who died still brings out tears.

Along with Valley Forge, Gettysburg and Belleau Wood, the savage battle for Iwo is now in the history book. Our flag still flies over our land of the free because of our actions our country took.

Yes, my friends, we remember well those horrendous days as we awake at the approach of dawn, even though three score years plus three have come and gone.

MARSHALL E. HARRIS, ELK RIVER

Ellie