Another Marine Giant Passes.........
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  1. #1
    Phantom Blooper
    Guest Free Member

    Another Marine Giant Passes.........

    > From: Greg Johnson
    > To: Distribution A
    > Sent: Sunday, November 16, 2003 3:34 PM
    > Subject: DISPATCHES #975: A Marine Named Mitch
    >
    > It is with great regret I note the passing of a Marine legend this
    weekend.
    > Colonel Mitchell Paige, USMC (Ret) passed away early yesterday morning.
    One
    > of the first things I remember my father telling me about Guadalcanal was
    > how men like Colonel Paige secured Henderson Field so that the air element
    > at Guadalcanal could come aboard. I was privileged to have had Colonel
    Paige
    > on this distribution for the past three years. The following note was
    passed
    > by his wife...
    > - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
    -
    > - - - - - - - - -
    >
    > Dear Friends:
    > My beloved husband, sweetheart, friend and hero passed away in my arms at
    > 3:50 am this morning, November 15, 2003, of congestive heart failure. His
    > long struggle with his heart is over and he is joyfully with the Lord
    where
    > there is more peace and love than this earth knows.
    >
    > Your friend,
    > Marilyn Paige
    >
    > * * * * * *
    > Services tentatively are to he held at Riverside National Cemetery in
    > Southern California on 24 November Monday. The date & time are not secured
    > ... please check with their internet link. Riverside Cemetery, 22495 Van
    > Buren Blvd. Riverside, CA 92518 / (909) 653-8417
    > http://www.interment.net/data/us/ca/riverside/rivnat/
    > * * * * * *
    >
    > Epilogue: sent 26 October 2003
    >
    > Guadalcanal: 26 October 1942 (Sixty-one Years ago today.)
    >
    > Sergeant Mitch Paige and his machine gun platoon (36 Marines) were the
    only
    > force standing between a Japanese Regiment and their plan to shove the
    First
    > Marine Division from a fragile beachhead back into the sea. This 1500 man
    > enemy regiment attacked all night. By the next morning Sergeant Paige was
    > the only Leatherneck not killed or wounded. Nine Hundred and twenty enemy
    > causalities were in front of his seven water cooled-thirty caliber machine
    > guns. It had been one horrific night filled with hand to hand combat. The
    > remaining attackers fled at sunrise back down the hill to their regimental
    > command post as they were chased and shot by Sergeant Paige.
    >
    > President Roosevelt awarded the Medal of Honor to Mitch and a battlefield
    > promotion to Lieutenant. This critical action in America's first offensive
    > pacific campaign of the war was a turning point. Our Marines went on to
    > victory throughout the South Pacific.
    >
    > Mitch always a humble man when recently asked by Colonel Bates and Major
    > Prentice about his World War II action, he simply states, "I was just
    doing
    > the job I was trained to do."
    >
    > Today's Mitch Paige has the same humility, the same candor and the same
    love
    > of America he has always had. Our country and Marines, past, present, and
    > future, are lucky to have .... a Marine named Mitch.
    >
    > Last August 31, Mitch Paige turned 85 and is still fighting a battle
    against
    > heart disease in Southern California.
    >
    > This is a special year to remember Colonel Mitch and his charming wife
    > Marilyn.
    >
    > Lest we forget....
    >
    >
    > ..... from the book
    >
    > A Marine Named Mitch
    > by Colonel Mitchell Paige U.S.M.C. (Retired)
    >
    > About 0200, in a silence so pervasive that men many yards apart could hear
    > each other breathing, I began to sense movement all along the front and
    deep
    > in the jungle below us and to our left. We could hear the muffled clanking
    > of equipment and periodically, voices hissing in Japanese. These were
    > undoubtedly squad leaders giving their instructions. At the same time,
    small
    > colored lights began flicking on and off throughout the jungle. I could
    hear
    > Price whispering for me to come to his foxhole. I quietly crawled over to
    > him and he had an excellent view of someone flicking a light on and off.
    > Price said, 'I thought I was cracking up seeing all those fireflies.' I
    > assured him he was not cracking up because those were lights handled by
    > Japanese soldiers. As I crawled around telling the men to glue their eyes
    > and ears to anything and reminded them that the small lights we were
    seeing
    > were assembly signals for the enemy squads, I again instructed everyone
    not
    > to fire their guns as the muzzle flash would give away our positions and
    > that we would be raked with fire and smothered with grenades. We had to
    let
    > them get closer as we were outnumbered, but when things started popping I
    > urged each man to just hang on.
    >
    > Earlier Jonjock, Swanek and I stretched a piece of wire out in front of
    our
    > position and hung several empty blackened ration cans on it. We put an
    empty
    > cartridge case in each can which would rattle if hit by someone's foot. I
    > had previously requested an artillery and mortar concentration. This was,
    > however, denied because the enemy was still in the jungle where the effect
    > would almost be nil. I then returned to my foxhole. Manning my number two
    > gun was Corporal Raymond 'Big Stoop' Gaston and Private Samuel 'Muscles'
    > Leiphart.
    >
    > Their gun was at the part of our line which bordered on the side where the
    > jungle came up to meet the ridge. They both whispered to me that there was
    > considerable rustling very near to the undergrowth. I said, 'Hold your
    > fire.' Corporal Richard 'Moose' Stanberry arranged several grenades in a
    > neat row in front of him, then nervously rearranged them. He was fond of
    his
    > Thompson sub-machine gun and I never worried about him as he was
    > well-trained, a perfectly disciplined marine who could handle himself in
    any
    > situation. Now everyone
    > was straining to hear and see.
    >
    > The bushes rustled and the maddening voices continued their soft sibilant
    > mutterings, but still nothing could be seen. Then I dimly sensed a dark
    > figure lurking near Gaston's position. I grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin
    > and held the lever ready to throw it. Around me I could hear the others
    also
    > pulling pins as we did the night before. We heard the ration cans rattle
    and
    > then somebody let out a shriek and instantaneously the battle erupted.
    > Grenades were exploding all over the ridge nose. Japanese rifles and
    machine
    > guns fired blindly in the night and the first wave of enemy troops swarmed
    > into our positions from the jungle flanking Gaston's gun. Stansberry was
    > pulling the pins out of his grenades with his teeth and lobbing them down
    > the slope into the jungle. Leiphart was skying them overhead like a
    baseball
    > pitcher. The tension burst like a balloon and many men found themselves
    > cursing, growling, screaming like banshees. The Japanese were yelling
    > Banzai! and 'Blood for the Emperor!' Stansberry, in a spontaneous tribute
    to
    > President Roosevelt's wife, shouted back, 'Blood for Eleanor!'
    >
    > The battleground was lit by flashes of machine-gun fire, pierced by the
    > arching red patterns of tracer bullets, shaken by the blast of shells laid
    > down no more than 30 yards in front of the ridge by Captain Louis Ditta's
    > 60mm mortars. It was a confusing maelstrom, with dark shapes crawling
    across
    > the ground or swirling in clumped knots; struggling men falling on each
    > other with bayonets, swords and violent oaths. After the first volley of
    > American grenades exploded the wave of Japanese crowding onto the knoll
    > thickened. Pfc. Charles H. Lock was killed from a burst of enemy
    machine-gun
    > fire.

    cont.


  2. #2
    Phantom Blooper
    Guest Free Member
    > I screamed, 'Fire machine guns! Fire!' and with that all the machine guns
    > opened up with all the rifles and tommy guns. In the flickering light, I
    saw
    > a fierce struggle taking place for the number two gun. Several Japanese
    > soldiers were racing toward Leiphart, who was kneeling, apparently already
    > hit. I managed to shoot two of them while the third lowered his bayonet
    and
    > lunged. Leiphart was the smallest man in the platoon, weighing barely 125
    > pounds. The Japanese soldier ran him through, the force of the thrust
    > lifting him high in
    > the air. I took careful aim and shot Leiphart's killer.
    >
    > Gaston was flat on his back, scrambling away from a Japanese officer who
    was
    > hacking at him with a two-handed Samurai sword and grunting with the
    > exertion. Gaston tried desperately to block the Samurai sword with a
    > Springfield he had picked up off the ground, apparently Leiphart's. One of
    > his legs was badly cut from the blows. The rifle soon splintered. The
    > Japanese officer raised his sword for the killing thrust and Gaston, with
    > maniac strength, snaked his good leg up and caught his man under the chin
    > with his boon docker, a violent blow that broke the Japanese's' neck.
    >
    > The attackers ran past Gaston's gun and spread out, concentrating their
    fire
    > on the left flank gun, manned by Corporal John Grant, Pfc. Sam H. Scott
    and
    > Willis A. Hinson. Within minutes, Scott was killed and Hinson was wounded
    in
    > the head. Then Joseph A. Pawlowski was killed. Stansberry, who had been
    near
    > me, was hit in the shoulder, but the last time I saw him he was still
    firing
    > his tommy gun with ferocity and shouting, 'Charge! Charge! Blood for
    > Eleanor!' Corporal Pettyjohn on the right, cried out in anguish, 'My gun's
    > jammed!' I was too busy to answer his call for help. At the center, we
    were
    > beating back the seemingly endless wall of Japanese coming up the gentle
    > slope at the front of the position. There were at that point approximately
    > seventy-five enemy soldiers crashing through the platoon, most of them on
    > the left flank, but the main force of the attack had already begun to ebb.
    > The ridge was crowded with fighting men it seemed.
    >
    > Somehow I vividly recall putting up my left hand just as an enemy soldier
    > lunged at me with a fixed bayonet. He must have been off balance as the
    > point of the bayonet hit between my little finger and the ring finger,
    > enough to let me parry it off, and as he went by me he dropped dead on the
    > ground. The enemy started to melt back down the slope, and almost before
    > they were out of sight, Navy Corpsmen began moving forward to treat the
    > wounded. At Petty john's gun, James 'Knobby' McNabb and Mitchel F. 'Pat'
    > Swanek were badly
    > wounded and had to be moved off the line. Stansberry was still around and
    > didn't want to leave. I crawled over to Pettyjohn's gun.
    >
    > 'What's wrong with it?'
    >
    > Pettyjohn said 'a ruptured cartridge which refused to budge'.
    >
    > I said, 'Move over,' and fumbled with stiff fingers, broke a nail
    completely
    > off, but somehow pried the slug out with a combination tool, which I found
    > in the spare parts kit under the tripod. I also changed the belt feed
    pawl,
    > which had been damaged in the rough slamming trying to get the round out.
    > Pettyjohn and Faust covered me.
    >
    > Though the first assault had flopped, a number of enemy soldiers had
    > shinnied to the top of the tall hardwood trees growing up from the jungle
    > between the platoon and Fox Company's position. From this vantage point,
    > they could direct a punishing, plunging fire down in two directions. The
    men
    > in the foxholes along the crest were especially vulnerable; Bob G. Jonjock
    > and John W. Price were wounded and helped back of the line by corpsmen.
    >
    > I was getting ready to feed a new belt of ammunition into Pettyjohn's gun.
    > My left hand felt very slippery so I rubbed it in the dirt under the
    tripod
    > of the gun, then as I reached up to hold the belt again, I felt a sharp
    > vibration and a jab of hot pain in my hand. I fell back momentarily and
    > flapped my arm and stared angrily at the gun, which had been wrecked by a
    > burst of fire from a Japanese Nambu light machine gun.
    >
    > Almost immediately, a second assault wave came washing over our positions.
    > This attack was more successful than the first. Oliver Hinkley and William
    > R. Dudley were wounded. Hinson, over on the left gun and already wounded,
    > continued to fire until all his supporting rifles were silenced. He then
    > withdrew down
    > around the hill in the rear of George Company, putting the gun out of
    action
    > before he left as I had instructed.
    >
    > That section had been hit hard with mortars and grenades, causing severe
    > shock to all the men; one of the first being August P. Marquez. All the
    men
    > on the spur had been literally blasted off, including Lieutenant Phillips,
    > Bill Payne and John Grant.
    >
    > In the Fox Company area back toward my left rear, I saw Fox Company men
    > pulling out and disappearing over the crest. I picked up a Springfield and
    > fired a shot at them, yelling for them to hold the line.
    >
    > The Japanese swarmed up that seventy-foot cliff in great numbers, armed
    with
    > three heavy and six light machine guns, a number of tommy guns and several
    > knee mortars. I thought, "Dear God, Major Conoley and his small command
    post
    > are just over the crest," but here was the only grazing fire I had with my
    > machine gun, so I quickly found Gaston's gun and swung it around toward
    our
    > own lines as there was nothing between my gun and the crest but enemy
    > soldiers.
    >
    > I fired a full belt of ammunition into the backs of those crouching enemy,
    > praying that they could not get over the crest to the command post. I
    > learned later from Captain Farrell, who was with Colonel Hanneken's
    command
    > post, that the word was that the enemy had one of Paige's fast firing
    > machine guns and the rounds were ricocheting over the line over Major
    > Conoley's position. He had also heard reports that all my men had been
    > killed and in fact, some had seen me sprawled out dead on the ground
    before
    > they left the ridge. I learned later, too, that this information had
    gotten
    > back to the Division Command Post.
    >
    > By 0500 the enemy was all over the spur and it appeared they were going to
    > roll up-the entire battalion front. A second prong of the attack aimed at
    > our front had not fared as well, but my platoon was being decimated. A
    hail
    > of shrapnel killed Daniel R. Cashman. Stansberry had been pulled back over
    > the hill after being hit again.
    >
    > I continued to trigger bursts until the barrel began to steam. In front of
    > me was a large pile of dead bodies. I ran around the ridge from gun to gun
    > trying to keep them firing, but at each emplacement I found only dead
    > bodies. I knew then I must be all alone.
    >
    > As I ran back and forth, I bumped into enemy soldiers who were seemingly
    > dashing about aimlessly in the dark. Apparently they weren't yet aware
    they
    > had almost complete possession of the knoll. As I scampered around the
    > knoll, I fired someone's Springfield that I happened to pick up. Then
    > somehow, I stumbled over into the right flank into George Company. There I
    > found a couple of men I knew named Kelly and Totman. They had a
    water-cooled
    > machine gun. I told them I needed their gun. At the same time, I grabbed
    it
    > and they took off with me.
    cont.


  3. #3
    Phantom Blooper
    Guest Free Member
    > I said, 'Follow me!' and ordered several riflemen to fix bayonets and to
    > follow us to form a skirmish line back across the ridge. I told the
    riflemen
    > not to be afraid to use the bayonet. We still had the 1905, 16-inch
    bayonets
    > with the front end sharpened throughout its length and the back edge five
    > inches from the point.
    >
    > It was by then not quite as dark as it had been. Soon dawn would break. I
    > knew that once the Japanese realized how much progress they had made, a
    > third wave of attackers would come up the slope to solidify their hold on
    > the hill. On the way back I noticed some movement of Japanese on the ridge
    > just above Major Conoley's position, which I had raked with grazing fire
    > earlier. I fired Kelly's and Totman's full belt of 250 rounds into that
    area
    > and once again the rounds were ricocheting over Conoley's head, but he had
    > no way of knowing that I was doing the firing. He could only surmise that
    > the enemy was now using our machine guns.
    >
    > As we advanced back across the ridge, some of the Japanese began falling
    > back. Several of them, however, began crawling awkwardly across the knoll
    > with their rifles cradled in the crooks of their arms. Then I saw with
    > horror that they were headed toward one of my guns, which was now out in
    the
    > open and unmanned.
    >
    > Galvanized by the threat, I ran for the gun. From the gully area, several
    > Japanese guns spotted me and swiveled to rake me with enfilading fire. The
    > snipers in the trees also tried to bring me down with grenades, and
    mortars
    > burst all around me as I ran to that gun. One of the crawling enemy
    soldiers
    > saw me coming and he jumped up to race me to the prize. I got there first
    > and jumped into a hole behind the gun. The enemy soldier, less than 25
    yards
    > away, dropped to the ground and started to open up on me. I turned the gun
    > on the enemy and immediately realized it was not loaded. I quickly scooped
    > up a partially loaded belt lying on the ground and with fumbling fingers,
    > started to load it. Suddenly a very strange feeling came over me. I tried
    > desperately to reach forward to pull the bolt handle back to load the gun,
    > but I felt as though I was in a vise. Even so, I was completely relaxed
    and
    > felt as though I was sitting peacefully in a park. I could feel a warm
    > sensation between my chin and my Adam's apple. Then all of a sudden I fell
    > forward over the gun, loaded the gun, and swung it at the enemy gunner,
    the
    > precise moment he had fired his full thirty-round magazine at me and
    stopped
    > firing.
    >
    > For days later I thought about the mystery and somehow I knew that the
    'Man
    > Above' also knew what had happened. I never wanted to relate this
    experience
    > to anyone, as I did not want to ever have anyone question it.
    >
    > I found three more belts of ammunition and quickly fired them in the trees
    > and all along the ridge. I sprayed the terrain with the remaining rounds
    > clearing everything in sight. All the Japanese fire in the area was being
    > aimed at me apparently, as this was the only automatic weapon firing from
    a
    > forward position. The barrage, concentrated on the ridge nose, made me
    feel
    > as if the whole Japanese Army was firing at me.
    >
    > I was getting some help from our mortars control led by Battalion with the
    > George Company Commander, Captain L.W. Martin, observing. These rounds
    laid
    > on the spur and prevented the enemy from moving up which would have
    probably
    > enveloped me from the rear. Other than this, I was still alone as my
    George
    > Company friends were still behind me some distance.
    >
    > In addition to being in this position, I had an immediate need of more
    > ammunition and I couldn't see anymore lying around anywhere. Just at that
    > time, aid came that made me glow with pride. Three men of my platoon
    > voluntarily crossed the field of fire to resupply me.
    >
    > The first one came up and just as he reached me he fell with a bullet in
    the
    > stomach. Another one then rushed in and was hit in the groin just as he
    > reached me too. He fell against me, knocking me away from the gun. Seconds
    > later, Bob Jonjock, who had also been wounded earlier, came from somewhere
    > with more ammunition. Just as he jumped down beside me to help load the
    gun,
    > I saw a piece of flesh fly off his neck. He had been hit by an enemy
    bullet.
    >
    > I told him to get back while I sprayed the area. He refused to leave. I
    > said, 'Get the hell back, Jonjock!' and he again said, 'No, I'm staying
    with
    > you.' I hated to do it, but I punched him on the chin hard enough to bowl
    > him over and convinced him finally that I wanted my order obeyed. He
    somehow
    > made his way back as I was afraid he would bleed to death.
    >
    > Meanwhile, Major Conoley, at the forward command post, was rounding up a
    > ragtag force with which to retake the Fox Company spur. There were
    bandsmen
    > serving as stretcher bearers, wiremen, runners, cooks, even mess boys, who
    > had brought some hot food up to the front lines during the night and
    stayed
    > just in case. Those men, numbering no more than twenty-four, mounted a
    > counterattack up over the crest line that I fired some 500 rounds at. They
    > found the Japanese machine guns and several of Fox Company's weapons,
    > including three light machine guns, all in good working order. That
    > counterattack found ninety-eight dead on the spur by actual count.
    >
    > That was about 0530 or so. Dawn was already breaking. I was able to
    observe
    > the progress of that charge from my position as I was directly out in
    their
    > front. I also watched quite a few enemy soldiers scrambling back into the
    > jungle, but I couldn't fire in that direction. As I watched that beautiful
    > charge, it gave me the inspiration to get up and yell to my George Company
    > fighters with their fixed bayonets to stand by to charge. I yelled out in
    > Japanese to stand up: 'Tate! -- tah- teh, tah-teh!', hurry: 'Isoge!' --
    > ee-soh-geh, ee-soh-geh!' Immediately a large group of Japanese soldiers,
    > about thirty in all, popped up into view. One of them looked quizzically
    at
    > me through field glasses. I triggered a long burst and they just peeled
    off
    > like grass under a mowing machine.
    >
    > At that point, I turned around to tell my friends I was going to charge
    over
    > the knoll and I said, 'I want everyone of you to be right behind me,' and
    > they were. I threw the two remaining belts of ammunition that my men had
    > brought me over my shoulder, unclamped the heavy machine gun from the
    tripod
    > and cradled it in my arms. I really didn't notice the weight which was
    about
    > a total of eighty pounds, and was no more aware that the water jacket of
    the
    > gun was red hot.
    >
    > I fed one of the belts into the gun and started forward, down the slope,
    > scrambling to keep my feet, spraying a raking fire all about me. There
    were
    > still a number of live enemy soldiers on the hillside in the tall grass,
    > pressed against the slope. I must have taken them by surprise, as the gun
    > cut them all down. One of them I noticed, was a field grade officer who
    had
    > just expended the rounds in his revolver and was reaching for his
    two-handed
    > sword. He was no more than four or five feet from me when I ran into him
    > head on.
    >
    > The skirmishers followed me over the rim of the knoll and they, too, were
    > all fired up and were giving the rebel yell, shrieking and cat-calling
    like
    > little boys imitating marines, sounding like there were a thousand rather
    > than a mere handful.
    >
    > They followed me all the way across the draw with fixed bayonets, to the
    end
    > of the jungle, where long hours before, the Japanese attacks had started.
    > There we found nothing left to shoot at. The battle was over.
    >
    > The jungle was once again so still, that if it weren't for the evidence of
    > dead bodies, the agony and torment of the previous hours, the bursting
    > terror of the artillery and mortars rounds and the many thousands of
    rounds
    > of ammunition fired, it might only have been a bad dream of awful death.
    It
    > was a really strange sort of quietness. As I sat down soaked with
    > perspiration and steam still rising from my hot gun, Captain Louis Ditta,
    > another wonderful officer who had joined the riflemen in the skirmish line
    > and had earlier been firing his 60mm mortars to help me, slapped me on the
    > back and as he handed me his canteen of water he kept saying, 'tremendous,
    > tremendous!' He then looked down at his legs. We could see blood coming
    > through his dungarees. He had a neat bullet hole in his right leg.
    >
    > There were hundreds of enemy dead in the grass, on the ridge, in the draw,
    > and in the edge of the jungle. We dragged as many as we could into the
    > jungle, out of the sun. We buried many and even blasted some of the ridge
    > over them to prevent the smell that only a dead body can expel in heat. A
    > corpsman sent by Capt. Ditta smeared my whole left arm with a tube of
    salve
    > of some kind. He cleaned off the bayonet gash, since filled with dirt, and
    > the bullet nicks on my hands also filled with dirt and coagulated blood.
    He
    > stuck a patch on my back just below the shoulder blade. (In 1955, I felt
    > something irritating in my back, and then had a piece of metal about 3/4
    of
    > an inch long removed from my back; right where the corpsman had placed
    that
    > patch.) As the corpsman left he said, 'You know, you have some pretty neat

    > creases in your steel helmet.' I replied:
    >
    > "Yes, thank God -- Made in America."
    > - - - -
    >
    > And so we lose another special member of the Greatest Generation. Where do
    > we get such men?
    >


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