thedrifter
08-21-08, 01:09 PM
I’ll begin with a hat tip to Terry Riggins of Vern Riggins masonry.
DON McALLISTER: Practicing the art of staying alive
Every day starts a new story, and I’ll begin with a hat tip to Terry Riggins of Vern Riggins masonry. While we were traveling the country interviewing veterans, Terry was rebuilding my mother’s chimney. Older women often don’t know who to trust in these kinds of situations. Terry was completely dependable, did a great job and was within the estimate. I want to publicly thank Terry for his good service.
The home front finds me in a quandary. Due to corporate cutbacks, I will be out of a job Nov. 1, eight months short of my 30 years and planned retirement. (For the record, I’ve never worked for The Herald Bulletin and am not paid for this column, so don’t get angry at — or thank — them.)
I had planned on a reduced monthly budget and a part-time job to bridge the gap. Now I will need a full-time job that may take months to find. Starting over with no vacation could also place a burden on my time to work on our veterans project. This doesn’t make me unique, of course. Many are treading in the same ocean and much worse, but it does leave me with some tough decisions.
Making wrong financial decisions can be harmful enough, but making wrong decisions in combat can be downright fatal. When thinking of a veteran who faced this scenario, I immediately recalled Marine Pfc. Bob Graham. Bob was just a kid when he was sent into the invasion of Tarawa. Inexperienced, he casually ate an apple on the way in as the more tested Guadalcanal veterans were tense and fully aware of the danger.
Tarawa, only 2.5 miles long and 800 yards wide, took just 72 hours to subdue, but in those hours 1,687 Marines and sailors and all but 17 of the 5,000 Japanese defenders were killed. Heavily entrenched and fiercely defended from the start, there were a lot of deadly decisions to make.
It started before they landed. The amtrack’s coxswain and gunner were killed offshore. They hit the beach and the amtrack rolled into the seawall with a thud. Enemy grenades poured over the seawall “like flies” as Marines scrambled over the side. One fell into the amtrack and killed some of the Marines. The scene on the beach was chaos as all of the officers were either killed or wounded, and the men still in the water were being cut to pieces.
The only authority Bob had was the firepower of his BAR and his Marine training. A small squad gathered, and Bob led them over the wall with the BAR’s suppressive fire. They fought their way to the first of a series of holes left by the Navy shelling. They had to keep moving with light cover. Each move required a decision of direction and timing that meant the life or death of a Marine. On the way to the second shell hole, two more were killed. Corpsman Red Orin joined them there with his own dressed head wound. As he worked on another wounded Marine, a sniper shot the knife out of his hand.
By noon, they were down to three men in Bob’s “squad.” About that time they were “reinforced” by another ragtag squad of seven. Bob took the lead again but was stopped by a deathtrap of two aligned pillboxes. He took cover behind a fallen coconut log, which was immediately hit by a shell. It left Bob stunned and condemned to a lifetime of severe headaches. Shortly thereafter, Bob saw his best buddy, Erda Gooch, killed as he crawled across the sand to retrieve much-needed grenades and water from a fallen Marine. Sgt. Luther caught up with the remnants of his squad and took the helm. His last words were, “All right you guys, let’s go.” When he stood up, Sgt. Luther was obliterated by an anti-tank shell.
The next 24 hours were tense, but in three days the atoll stood silent, strewn with fatal decisions. The courage executed in those decisions floods honor into the annals of the USMC story.
Don McAllister is the director of the National Veteran’s Historic Archive. He can be reached at nvha01@hotmail.com and Web site www.nvharchive.org.
Ellie
DON McALLISTER: Practicing the art of staying alive
Every day starts a new story, and I’ll begin with a hat tip to Terry Riggins of Vern Riggins masonry. While we were traveling the country interviewing veterans, Terry was rebuilding my mother’s chimney. Older women often don’t know who to trust in these kinds of situations. Terry was completely dependable, did a great job and was within the estimate. I want to publicly thank Terry for his good service.
The home front finds me in a quandary. Due to corporate cutbacks, I will be out of a job Nov. 1, eight months short of my 30 years and planned retirement. (For the record, I’ve never worked for The Herald Bulletin and am not paid for this column, so don’t get angry at — or thank — them.)
I had planned on a reduced monthly budget and a part-time job to bridge the gap. Now I will need a full-time job that may take months to find. Starting over with no vacation could also place a burden on my time to work on our veterans project. This doesn’t make me unique, of course. Many are treading in the same ocean and much worse, but it does leave me with some tough decisions.
Making wrong financial decisions can be harmful enough, but making wrong decisions in combat can be downright fatal. When thinking of a veteran who faced this scenario, I immediately recalled Marine Pfc. Bob Graham. Bob was just a kid when he was sent into the invasion of Tarawa. Inexperienced, he casually ate an apple on the way in as the more tested Guadalcanal veterans were tense and fully aware of the danger.
Tarawa, only 2.5 miles long and 800 yards wide, took just 72 hours to subdue, but in those hours 1,687 Marines and sailors and all but 17 of the 5,000 Japanese defenders were killed. Heavily entrenched and fiercely defended from the start, there were a lot of deadly decisions to make.
It started before they landed. The amtrack’s coxswain and gunner were killed offshore. They hit the beach and the amtrack rolled into the seawall with a thud. Enemy grenades poured over the seawall “like flies” as Marines scrambled over the side. One fell into the amtrack and killed some of the Marines. The scene on the beach was chaos as all of the officers were either killed or wounded, and the men still in the water were being cut to pieces.
The only authority Bob had was the firepower of his BAR and his Marine training. A small squad gathered, and Bob led them over the wall with the BAR’s suppressive fire. They fought their way to the first of a series of holes left by the Navy shelling. They had to keep moving with light cover. Each move required a decision of direction and timing that meant the life or death of a Marine. On the way to the second shell hole, two more were killed. Corpsman Red Orin joined them there with his own dressed head wound. As he worked on another wounded Marine, a sniper shot the knife out of his hand.
By noon, they were down to three men in Bob’s “squad.” About that time they were “reinforced” by another ragtag squad of seven. Bob took the lead again but was stopped by a deathtrap of two aligned pillboxes. He took cover behind a fallen coconut log, which was immediately hit by a shell. It left Bob stunned and condemned to a lifetime of severe headaches. Shortly thereafter, Bob saw his best buddy, Erda Gooch, killed as he crawled across the sand to retrieve much-needed grenades and water from a fallen Marine. Sgt. Luther caught up with the remnants of his squad and took the helm. His last words were, “All right you guys, let’s go.” When he stood up, Sgt. Luther was obliterated by an anti-tank shell.
The next 24 hours were tense, but in three days the atoll stood silent, strewn with fatal decisions. The courage executed in those decisions floods honor into the annals of the USMC story.
Don McAllister is the director of the National Veteran’s Historic Archive. He can be reached at nvha01@hotmail.com and Web site www.nvharchive.org.
Ellie