wrbones
06-09-03, 05:24 PM
http://www.lafollettepress.com/frontpage/marine.html
( Pictures on the link )
Marine recalls service in WWII
By JIM DOSSETT
LaFollette Press Reporter
For many, Memorial Day is over.
Tributes made. Prayers and poems said. Salutes fired. Taps played.
Flags folded into neat little triangles and stashed away until the Fourth of July.
But it’s not over for Hobart Cobb, of LaFollette.
It never will be.
He remembers his comrades and the precious costs of freedom – every waking moment of his life.
"I’m a true patriot – born on the Fourth of July," said Cobb as he thumbed through neatly-put-together scrap books, filled with photos and other memorabilia, and history books chronicling the valorous deeds of men. Men not unlike himself.
He bent over the table, tracing a map with his index finger.
A splinter of afternoon sun, slanting from half-closed blinds, flashed briefly, brilliantly, on the gold Marine Corps emblem dangling from a chain on his neck.
"We landed right here, on White Beach," said Cobb. "It was on the bloody end of the island."
The island was Peleliu, in the South Pacific. It was a battle that was supposed to have lasted three days. When it was done, 73 days later, nearly 9,000 Americans were killed or wounded. Almost 11,000 Japanese were slain.
Survivor 18-year-old Hobart Cobb was a member of the 1st Marine Division under the command of Louis (Chesty) Puller.
"It was 100 to 115 degrees, day and night. The reason it was so hot at night was that the coral absorbed all of the daytime heat," said Cobb, recounting hellacious moments with uncanny accuracy.
But occasionally, he would refer to a well-worn book, "The History of the First Marine Division," to refresh his memory.
"We got this old boy a medal of honor that day – let’s see, what was his name? Here it is, Captain Pope," said Cobb.
He was speaking of the officer who fought alongside him and a hodgepodge group of warriors from ‘A’ Company as they defended Hill 600 in hand-to-hand combat, against hordes of suicidal Japanese soldiers.
"After we got off the beach, we made it to the highlands, to a place called ‘Bloody Nose Ridge.’
"That name’s not in the history books. But Marines have their own names for places, you know?" he laughed. Then he paused, tears puddling in his eyes.
"I get touched just talking about it. But it’s good to do it," he said, composing himself.
The Japanese were unrelenting and continued with their murderous onslaught throughout the night.
"We ran out of ammo. Behind us were cliffs with 150-foot drop-offs. We had nowhere to go," said Cobb.
"I was a featherweight. But some of our bigger boys were picking the Japs up and throwing them over the cliff," he said.
"We fought with empty ammo boxes, ration boxes, rocks, coral, bayonets, bare fists. The adrenaline was flowing. I didn’t have time to think about dying."
Amazingly, Cobb was not wounded during the ferocious encounters.
"Look at this," he said, picking up an ancient watch, wrapped in plastic. "This was blown off my wrist and I didn’t even know it."
Then he presented a necklace strung with metal objects. They were Japanese dog tags. Interspersed with the rusty relics of war was a red flake of plastic.
"I lost my own dog tags during the fighting and one boy carved my name on a piece of a soap container. See, if you look real close you can see my name and serial number," said Cobb.
He continued with his story.
"I hate to tell you that when daybreak came, there was only six of us left out of 56 boys in Company A. But the Japs just stopped fighting. And we walked back to the front lines," he said.
Cobb and his comrades were sent, fresh out of combat, to the island of Pavuvu to retrain.
"In April of ’45, we were sent to Okinawa, for the last big fight of the Pacific. We hardly lost any men, but the Navy caught heck from the kamikazes," said Cobb.
After a six-month stint with occupation forces in China, Cobb mustered out of the Marines.
He’s still a Marine at heart – as much, perhaps more than he was nearly 60 years ago.
And he’s still fighting battles.
"I’ve had melanoma, four bypasses, and now, I have this defibrillator installed – it’s one step above a pace-maker," he said.
However, one of the biggest battles he and his wife of 56 years, Faye, have fought is the recent loss of their daughter, Lisa Diane, to cancer this year.
"When you lose a child – it’s hard," he said. "We laugh a lot about the funny things she did. And we cry a lot. But we go on, with trust in God."
Toward the end of the interview, Cobb led the way to a couch in the corner of the room, where a Marine dress uniform was laid out with museum-like fastidiousness.
"These are my dress blues. I was going to wear them to church [LaFollette Church of God] tomorrow, but I don’t have all of my medals," said Cobb, who only has three of the 12 medals he earned for service to his country.
After a few seconds of coaxing, Cobb was persuaded to don his Marine blouse.
He looked dashing – much younger than his 77 years.
"One of my daughters has a condo in South Carolina. When I visited her, I went to the PX [Post Exchange] at Parris Island and bought these blues," he said, as he fiddled with a button at the neck of the coat.
"These are my first dress blues. I’m going to be buried in them," he said, posing for one more photo.
He jutted out his chin, and stood ramrod straight.
And the camera captured the image of a hero – Corporal Hobart Cobb. Semper Fi.
Semper Fi, Mac.
It's my honor to know you. It is a greater honor to have you call me friend.
Warren Bonesteel
SGT USMC 1976-1983
( Pictures on the link )
Marine recalls service in WWII
By JIM DOSSETT
LaFollette Press Reporter
For many, Memorial Day is over.
Tributes made. Prayers and poems said. Salutes fired. Taps played.
Flags folded into neat little triangles and stashed away until the Fourth of July.
But it’s not over for Hobart Cobb, of LaFollette.
It never will be.
He remembers his comrades and the precious costs of freedom – every waking moment of his life.
"I’m a true patriot – born on the Fourth of July," said Cobb as he thumbed through neatly-put-together scrap books, filled with photos and other memorabilia, and history books chronicling the valorous deeds of men. Men not unlike himself.
He bent over the table, tracing a map with his index finger.
A splinter of afternoon sun, slanting from half-closed blinds, flashed briefly, brilliantly, on the gold Marine Corps emblem dangling from a chain on his neck.
"We landed right here, on White Beach," said Cobb. "It was on the bloody end of the island."
The island was Peleliu, in the South Pacific. It was a battle that was supposed to have lasted three days. When it was done, 73 days later, nearly 9,000 Americans were killed or wounded. Almost 11,000 Japanese were slain.
Survivor 18-year-old Hobart Cobb was a member of the 1st Marine Division under the command of Louis (Chesty) Puller.
"It was 100 to 115 degrees, day and night. The reason it was so hot at night was that the coral absorbed all of the daytime heat," said Cobb, recounting hellacious moments with uncanny accuracy.
But occasionally, he would refer to a well-worn book, "The History of the First Marine Division," to refresh his memory.
"We got this old boy a medal of honor that day – let’s see, what was his name? Here it is, Captain Pope," said Cobb.
He was speaking of the officer who fought alongside him and a hodgepodge group of warriors from ‘A’ Company as they defended Hill 600 in hand-to-hand combat, against hordes of suicidal Japanese soldiers.
"After we got off the beach, we made it to the highlands, to a place called ‘Bloody Nose Ridge.’
"That name’s not in the history books. But Marines have their own names for places, you know?" he laughed. Then he paused, tears puddling in his eyes.
"I get touched just talking about it. But it’s good to do it," he said, composing himself.
The Japanese were unrelenting and continued with their murderous onslaught throughout the night.
"We ran out of ammo. Behind us were cliffs with 150-foot drop-offs. We had nowhere to go," said Cobb.
"I was a featherweight. But some of our bigger boys were picking the Japs up and throwing them over the cliff," he said.
"We fought with empty ammo boxes, ration boxes, rocks, coral, bayonets, bare fists. The adrenaline was flowing. I didn’t have time to think about dying."
Amazingly, Cobb was not wounded during the ferocious encounters.
"Look at this," he said, picking up an ancient watch, wrapped in plastic. "This was blown off my wrist and I didn’t even know it."
Then he presented a necklace strung with metal objects. They were Japanese dog tags. Interspersed with the rusty relics of war was a red flake of plastic.
"I lost my own dog tags during the fighting and one boy carved my name on a piece of a soap container. See, if you look real close you can see my name and serial number," said Cobb.
He continued with his story.
"I hate to tell you that when daybreak came, there was only six of us left out of 56 boys in Company A. But the Japs just stopped fighting. And we walked back to the front lines," he said.
Cobb and his comrades were sent, fresh out of combat, to the island of Pavuvu to retrain.
"In April of ’45, we were sent to Okinawa, for the last big fight of the Pacific. We hardly lost any men, but the Navy caught heck from the kamikazes," said Cobb.
After a six-month stint with occupation forces in China, Cobb mustered out of the Marines.
He’s still a Marine at heart – as much, perhaps more than he was nearly 60 years ago.
And he’s still fighting battles.
"I’ve had melanoma, four bypasses, and now, I have this defibrillator installed – it’s one step above a pace-maker," he said.
However, one of the biggest battles he and his wife of 56 years, Faye, have fought is the recent loss of their daughter, Lisa Diane, to cancer this year.
"When you lose a child – it’s hard," he said. "We laugh a lot about the funny things she did. And we cry a lot. But we go on, with trust in God."
Toward the end of the interview, Cobb led the way to a couch in the corner of the room, where a Marine dress uniform was laid out with museum-like fastidiousness.
"These are my dress blues. I was going to wear them to church [LaFollette Church of God] tomorrow, but I don’t have all of my medals," said Cobb, who only has three of the 12 medals he earned for service to his country.
After a few seconds of coaxing, Cobb was persuaded to don his Marine blouse.
He looked dashing – much younger than his 77 years.
"One of my daughters has a condo in South Carolina. When I visited her, I went to the PX [Post Exchange] at Parris Island and bought these blues," he said, as he fiddled with a button at the neck of the coat.
"These are my first dress blues. I’m going to be buried in them," he said, posing for one more photo.
He jutted out his chin, and stood ramrod straight.
And the camera captured the image of a hero – Corporal Hobart Cobb. Semper Fi.
Semper Fi, Mac.
It's my honor to know you. It is a greater honor to have you call me friend.
Warren Bonesteel
SGT USMC 1976-1983