thedrifter
06-16-09, 07:34 AM
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The battle for Saipan
By CARL W. MATTHEWS
Special to the Saipan Tribune
Editor's Note: This is an excerpt from The Feather Merchant, written by the author. Matthews was in the first wave of Marines to land on Blue Beach to begin the invasion of Saipan. He was 19 at that time. He currently resides in Cedar Hill, Texas. The CNMI marks this week the 65th anniversary of the Battles of Saipan and Tinian.
The next morning, reveille came early aboard our anchored LST. We dressed in our cleanest underwear, dungarees, and socks to reduce infection should we be wounded with shell fragments. The usual breakfast of steak and eggs was waiting in the little LST galley and we took our food on deck to eat. We could see the blasts of shells leaving the battleships, cruisers, destroyers, etc. to bombard the island. Sometimes, we could hear see the blast on shore as the shells landed. Such shelling must have created panic among the innocent islanders, most of whom had left their homes in Chalan Kanoa and Garapan and flew to caves in the hills and mountains. Some Japanese were caught by this naval gunfire, but most were hiding deep in caves or underground bunkers.
We had packed our seabags the previous evening. Wendell Nightingale had decided to learn to smoke while we were aboard the LST. He was 19, but had never smoked in his life. Smoking was something which his family would not approve. His seabag was fully packed except for a carton of cigarettes he had purchase when we had PX rights. He looked at that carton, looked at me, and asked if I would pack them in my seabag. He explained that, should something happen to him, and if the Marine Corps sent his seabag home, he did not want his mother to open the seabag and see the cigarettes.
Soon, the order came to take our places in the Amphibious Tractors (AmTrac) located in the space below deck. The huge front doors of the LST had been opened and the large ramp dropped into the water. Every Marine knew exactly which AmTrac he would use, and exactly where he would stand. We had several drills to perform this exercise while at sea. Mr. Leary had prepared a checklist for every Marine in his platoon, and he did a painstaking inspection of everyone to make sure we were carrying every item required: clean dungarees, leggings, rifle, rifle belt, filled canteen, first aid pack, steel helmet, bayonet, small radio, semaphore flags, folding shovel, several pencils, and a pocket sizes notebook on which to write messages. The backpack contained one set of underwear, three pairs of socks, K-rations, poncho. I also carried an extra filled canteen, and roll of toilet paper. I had also attached a hunting knife sheath to the legging on my right leg. The knife handle, fastened with a leather snap, protruded above the legging.
One by one, the AmTracs lumbered down the LST ramp and into the water to make their way to the rendezvous area, well out of range of Japanese fire. The minutes spent in the rendezvous seemed like hours. Several of the Marines became seasick as we bobbed in the water waiting for the signal to go to the beach. Daylight had arrived and we could see the island before us. When all the AmTracs were in the water, they began to form a line parallel to the beach, but still out of range of the Japanese guns. When the line was formed, the signal was given to make for the beach. Mr. Leary and I stood side by side at the front of the AmTrac, but said little, both with thoughts of what lay ahead, thoughts of home and family. We began to make out landmarks on the beach as we grew closer. Yes, there was the smokestack on our left, exactly where it was supposed to be. And there was the concrete Sugar Dock that extended out from the Chalan Kanoa beach. We could make out the white beaches and the heavy green growth behind.
We began to see huge geysers in the water ahead of us, made by exploding shells from Japanese guns. Suddenly all the AmTracs were in range of the Japanese guns. Moments later, I was watching as one of the Japanese shells made a direct hit on one of the AmTracs and it disintegrated. All AmTracs continued grinding toward the beach. Several times we could feel and hear the tracts of the AmTrac grinding over the coral reefs that extended far out from the beach. Then, we reached the beach. Our AmTrac was supposed to carry us far beyond the beach area, but when we arrived there, the path was blocked by a steep bank and trees so large and so thick that penetration would have been impossible. Mr. Leary quickly gave the order to get out of the AmTrac. Japanese shells were landing in every direction. We could not have remained on the beach longer than 60-90 seconds. Mr. Leary was yelling for us to get off that beach.
***
During the brief period, between our exit from the AmTrac and our scramble up the bank on the beach, a combat photographer took a photo of our platoon. The photo shows the AmTrac from which we had exited. Mr. Leary is standing in front of the AmTrac, I am kneeling in front of him, Wendell Nightingale is kneeling in front of me. Through the years, the photo was widely distributed in books and other places. I had seen small photos, but the detail was so small that identifying anyone in the photo was impossible. Identification of three Marines in the photo came about with a series of strange coincidences in 2004. When I first viewed the enlarged photo, I recognized objects and features that convinced me as to the identity of the three Marines. The following year, a member of the U. S. Parks Department, using digital imagery, made positive identification. An enlarged copy of the photo hangs in the Saipan Exhibit at the National Marine Corps Museum at Quantico, Virginia.
***
We scrambled up the steep area of the beach and into the treed area. The heavily treed area quickly changed into an open area with a few coconut trees. One Japanese shell landed on our left flank, killing three men from supply. Moments later, Whitte from Desdemona, Texas, fell. He was hit with a sniper bullet to the head. Someone saw the sniper in one of the coconut trees and quickly took him out. The Japanese soldier fell from his perch. We crossed a long trench that appeared to have been recently dug. We did not go to Whitte. We had been trained never to go to a wounded comrade. Marines who stopped to comfort or mourn often became casualties themselves. We were moving into Chalan Kanoa when we heard the sound of tanks. Our tanks had not been scheduled to land until later, and we assumed the coming tanks to be Japanese. There was no place to take cover and have protection from tanks. Mr. Leary yelled an order to go back to the trench we had crossed. Mr. Leary and I had been in the lead, but I must have been the first to arrive to the safety of the trench. When the tanks came in sight, it became life's most beautiful moment. They were our tanks that had landed early. Our Day 1 objective was to reach the eastern edge of Chalan Kanoa and the bank of a dry swamp. We had reached our objective by mid-afternoon, taking out several snipers, and checking out small structures on our way. Heavy foliage bordered the swamp and we remained just inside the foliage. We could see out, but remained pretty well hidden from any view by the enemy.
The Japanese had constructed a huge concrete bunker in the area and we set up our platoon command post at that point. The heavy shelling never ceased all day long and continued into the night. Fortunately for the 2nd Platoon, none fell in our immediate area. And we received no rifle or machinegun fire. We could hear the noise of battle on our right flank and even more noise on the left, the area where the Second Marine Division had landed. We could see across the swamp. Nothing was moving as far as our eyes could see. We had apparently taken out all Japanese troops in the area we had covered reaching our objective and were having no problem with being attacked from the rear. I remained alert, cautious and watchful, but consuming the contents of a box of K-rations when I noticed some wires on the ground that led to the Japanese bunker. I stopped eating sufficiently long to cut the wires. Late that afternoon, an artillery battalion brought one of their big guns and set up a few yards to our rear. However, they did not fire a single shot that day or night. It could have been that there was no target for them at the moment, and that they had been set up to cover our advance the following day.
Most of G-Company experienced a relatively quiet night. I used the term “most.” One of the platoons on our right flank played host to a number of Japanese who arrived in the darkness of the early morning, yelling “Banzai, Banzai, Banzai!” Someone said that John Criner, a huge Marine, was heard yelling back, “Banzai yourself, you SOBs!” as he emptied his BAR again and again. We could hear the shooting and the screams, but our platoon was never attacked.
Ellie
The battle for Saipan
By CARL W. MATTHEWS
Special to the Saipan Tribune
Editor's Note: This is an excerpt from The Feather Merchant, written by the author. Matthews was in the first wave of Marines to land on Blue Beach to begin the invasion of Saipan. He was 19 at that time. He currently resides in Cedar Hill, Texas. The CNMI marks this week the 65th anniversary of the Battles of Saipan and Tinian.
The next morning, reveille came early aboard our anchored LST. We dressed in our cleanest underwear, dungarees, and socks to reduce infection should we be wounded with shell fragments. The usual breakfast of steak and eggs was waiting in the little LST galley and we took our food on deck to eat. We could see the blasts of shells leaving the battleships, cruisers, destroyers, etc. to bombard the island. Sometimes, we could hear see the blast on shore as the shells landed. Such shelling must have created panic among the innocent islanders, most of whom had left their homes in Chalan Kanoa and Garapan and flew to caves in the hills and mountains. Some Japanese were caught by this naval gunfire, but most were hiding deep in caves or underground bunkers.
We had packed our seabags the previous evening. Wendell Nightingale had decided to learn to smoke while we were aboard the LST. He was 19, but had never smoked in his life. Smoking was something which his family would not approve. His seabag was fully packed except for a carton of cigarettes he had purchase when we had PX rights. He looked at that carton, looked at me, and asked if I would pack them in my seabag. He explained that, should something happen to him, and if the Marine Corps sent his seabag home, he did not want his mother to open the seabag and see the cigarettes.
Soon, the order came to take our places in the Amphibious Tractors (AmTrac) located in the space below deck. The huge front doors of the LST had been opened and the large ramp dropped into the water. Every Marine knew exactly which AmTrac he would use, and exactly where he would stand. We had several drills to perform this exercise while at sea. Mr. Leary had prepared a checklist for every Marine in his platoon, and he did a painstaking inspection of everyone to make sure we were carrying every item required: clean dungarees, leggings, rifle, rifle belt, filled canteen, first aid pack, steel helmet, bayonet, small radio, semaphore flags, folding shovel, several pencils, and a pocket sizes notebook on which to write messages. The backpack contained one set of underwear, three pairs of socks, K-rations, poncho. I also carried an extra filled canteen, and roll of toilet paper. I had also attached a hunting knife sheath to the legging on my right leg. The knife handle, fastened with a leather snap, protruded above the legging.
One by one, the AmTracs lumbered down the LST ramp and into the water to make their way to the rendezvous area, well out of range of Japanese fire. The minutes spent in the rendezvous seemed like hours. Several of the Marines became seasick as we bobbed in the water waiting for the signal to go to the beach. Daylight had arrived and we could see the island before us. When all the AmTracs were in the water, they began to form a line parallel to the beach, but still out of range of the Japanese guns. When the line was formed, the signal was given to make for the beach. Mr. Leary and I stood side by side at the front of the AmTrac, but said little, both with thoughts of what lay ahead, thoughts of home and family. We began to make out landmarks on the beach as we grew closer. Yes, there was the smokestack on our left, exactly where it was supposed to be. And there was the concrete Sugar Dock that extended out from the Chalan Kanoa beach. We could make out the white beaches and the heavy green growth behind.
We began to see huge geysers in the water ahead of us, made by exploding shells from Japanese guns. Suddenly all the AmTracs were in range of the Japanese guns. Moments later, I was watching as one of the Japanese shells made a direct hit on one of the AmTracs and it disintegrated. All AmTracs continued grinding toward the beach. Several times we could feel and hear the tracts of the AmTrac grinding over the coral reefs that extended far out from the beach. Then, we reached the beach. Our AmTrac was supposed to carry us far beyond the beach area, but when we arrived there, the path was blocked by a steep bank and trees so large and so thick that penetration would have been impossible. Mr. Leary quickly gave the order to get out of the AmTrac. Japanese shells were landing in every direction. We could not have remained on the beach longer than 60-90 seconds. Mr. Leary was yelling for us to get off that beach.
***
During the brief period, between our exit from the AmTrac and our scramble up the bank on the beach, a combat photographer took a photo of our platoon. The photo shows the AmTrac from which we had exited. Mr. Leary is standing in front of the AmTrac, I am kneeling in front of him, Wendell Nightingale is kneeling in front of me. Through the years, the photo was widely distributed in books and other places. I had seen small photos, but the detail was so small that identifying anyone in the photo was impossible. Identification of three Marines in the photo came about with a series of strange coincidences in 2004. When I first viewed the enlarged photo, I recognized objects and features that convinced me as to the identity of the three Marines. The following year, a member of the U. S. Parks Department, using digital imagery, made positive identification. An enlarged copy of the photo hangs in the Saipan Exhibit at the National Marine Corps Museum at Quantico, Virginia.
***
We scrambled up the steep area of the beach and into the treed area. The heavily treed area quickly changed into an open area with a few coconut trees. One Japanese shell landed on our left flank, killing three men from supply. Moments later, Whitte from Desdemona, Texas, fell. He was hit with a sniper bullet to the head. Someone saw the sniper in one of the coconut trees and quickly took him out. The Japanese soldier fell from his perch. We crossed a long trench that appeared to have been recently dug. We did not go to Whitte. We had been trained never to go to a wounded comrade. Marines who stopped to comfort or mourn often became casualties themselves. We were moving into Chalan Kanoa when we heard the sound of tanks. Our tanks had not been scheduled to land until later, and we assumed the coming tanks to be Japanese. There was no place to take cover and have protection from tanks. Mr. Leary yelled an order to go back to the trench we had crossed. Mr. Leary and I had been in the lead, but I must have been the first to arrive to the safety of the trench. When the tanks came in sight, it became life's most beautiful moment. They were our tanks that had landed early. Our Day 1 objective was to reach the eastern edge of Chalan Kanoa and the bank of a dry swamp. We had reached our objective by mid-afternoon, taking out several snipers, and checking out small structures on our way. Heavy foliage bordered the swamp and we remained just inside the foliage. We could see out, but remained pretty well hidden from any view by the enemy.
The Japanese had constructed a huge concrete bunker in the area and we set up our platoon command post at that point. The heavy shelling never ceased all day long and continued into the night. Fortunately for the 2nd Platoon, none fell in our immediate area. And we received no rifle or machinegun fire. We could hear the noise of battle on our right flank and even more noise on the left, the area where the Second Marine Division had landed. We could see across the swamp. Nothing was moving as far as our eyes could see. We had apparently taken out all Japanese troops in the area we had covered reaching our objective and were having no problem with being attacked from the rear. I remained alert, cautious and watchful, but consuming the contents of a box of K-rations when I noticed some wires on the ground that led to the Japanese bunker. I stopped eating sufficiently long to cut the wires. Late that afternoon, an artillery battalion brought one of their big guns and set up a few yards to our rear. However, they did not fire a single shot that day or night. It could have been that there was no target for them at the moment, and that they had been set up to cover our advance the following day.
Most of G-Company experienced a relatively quiet night. I used the term “most.” One of the platoons on our right flank played host to a number of Japanese who arrived in the darkness of the early morning, yelling “Banzai, Banzai, Banzai!” Someone said that John Criner, a huge Marine, was heard yelling back, “Banzai yourself, you SOBs!” as he emptied his BAR again and again. We could hear the shooting and the screams, but our platoon was never attacked.
Ellie