thedrifter
02-12-07, 09:07 AM
Posted on Mon, Feb. 12, 2007
By RON LIEBACK rlieback@timesleader.com
The nurses had just finished pulling shrapnel from the wounded soldier’s right leg and lower back.
The intense physical pain was overcome by throbbing emotions, resulting from the Marine having just witnessed the appendages detach from three of his comrades after a red glow and a piercing bang -- a bang that still haunts the 81-year-old veteran’s memory.
Multiple metal shards were soon lying on a stainless steel table amid scissors, pliers and fresh packages of synthetic thread ready for closing the gashes.
After the numerous stitches had sealed out the foreign viruses in the warm Pacific Ocean air, a nurse wheeled the 18-year-old out onto the ship’s deck from the medical rooms contained deep within the vessel.
The private first class sullenly peered at the island of Iwo Jima, where nature had witnessed one of the most horrific battles of World War II.
John Pappas’ hard gaze suddenly turned to one of pride as he witnessed five Marines from the 5th Division and a Navy corpsman raise the Stars and Stripes over the scraps of exploded artillery shells remaining from battle on Mt. Suribachi, the highest vantage point on the island.
The extinct volcanic crater ascends 546 feet into the western Pacific sky, allowing the dauntless fighting men on board the ships to observe the symbol of their freedom.
As the silence tightened in the air around him that Feb. 23, 1945, only his second day in the Pacific, he realized the outcome of the battle was weighing towards his country’s side.
“They raised that flag and I knew we had the island,” Pappas said, reiterating the story in his greeting room on Horton Street in Wilkes-Barre. “I knew right then what I was fighting for.”
Everyone can share that same vision, thanks to Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal freezing the moment in 1-400th of a second, but only a few who fought on the island during February and March 1945 survive to explain the scenes behind the famous photo.
Pappas is one of “the few,” as the Marine slogan goes, with an insight into the horrific fighting the picture represents.
But there is more; the Greek-American had some connection with the photograph, but wouldn’t discuss his involvement until he described some battle scenes.
Pappas was a 3rd Division Marine flamethrower, a demolition specialist, who torched out the enemy entrenched in 16 miles of underground tunnels that crisscrossed Iwo Jima, which is Japanese for Sulfur Island.
“We were supposed to take the island in three days,” Pappas said, “but it took 36 days, around 6,000 soldiers and 20,000 (Japanese soldiers).”
Pappas said the 5 ½-mile-long-by-2-mile-wide isle, shaped like a pork chop, was needed for the two airstrips that the Japanese had built. The Japanese almost completed a third airstrip before the fighting began.
The island is 8 miles in area, or about one third the size of Manhattan, an ample space for the B-29 bombers to refuel on missions to strike Tokyo and other Japanese cities.
“We wouldn’t have won the war without those airstrips,” Pappas said. “We did our duty, though the loss of life was great.”
Pappas began fighting on Feb. 22, 1945, when his division landed on shore in the amphibious vehicles. Twenty thousand soldiers from his division rushed the soft sand towards the enemy. Pappas said they crept 300 yards with complete silence, and then the enemy unloaded their weapons on them.
“They slaughtered us,” Pappas said. “Thousands of men died immediately.”
The nonstop mortar attacks and machine-gun fire continued from the Japanese subterranean lairs, the Americans fighting an invisible Japanese army since they landed on the island on D-Day, Feb. 19.
Soon Pappas’ sergeant instructed Pappas and his three comrades to prepare their flamethrowers.
“We went up there and starting scorching,” he said. “I could hear them screaming … I must have burnt about 20 or 25 of them.”
On their way back to fill their gas tanks for the flamethrowers, Pappas and his fellow soldiers were suddenly under fire, cannon fire overwhelming every other sound on the island.
His three fellow soldiers took cover in a crater created by recent bombings, but there was no room for Pappas, which he said was a blessing. He took cover about 10 yards away.
Then the enemy began another mortar attack.
“Guess what …(it was) a direct hit on my buddies,” Pappas said. “Their heads were blown off, and their shoulders and heads rolled down the ground.”
This was the end of fighting in the war for Pappas. He soon could only hear the battle while looking straight into a smoke-filled sky, descending the island on a stretcher towards the ships docked in the Pacific. The ships were close enough to the island so that their 16-inch guns could reach the enemy, but far enough away so that the wounded could be treated aboard them without danger.
Then, after being treated by medical personnel, Pappas observed the 5th Marine Division erecting the flag that made photographic history.
The image is a moving piece of Americana, one which represents the gallantry of the once-young men during a horrendous battle of World War II.
Pappas has a closer connection, though; before he was injured, his platoon delivered the smaller flag that was raised on Iwo Jima before the larger flag in the famous photo. The Marines lowered the smaller flag as the larger one ascended the 100-pound pole, about to be part of the most reproduced image in history.
“My sergeant said ‘Here’s a little flag. Put it up there on Mt. Suribachi,’ ” Pappas said. “He said watch out, there’s hundreds of mines up there.”
But after Pappas was handed the flag, attacks broke out, and he found himself on the torching mission that took the lives of three of his friends.
“You never know, I could’ve been shot while raising it,” he said.
He said his generation was directly responsible for the freedom America has today. But many in the “greatest generation” have endured the greatest psychological scarring.
Almost 67 years later, Pappas, a recipient of a Purple Heart medal, replays the dreadful and joyful war memories as if they were recorded on a tape in his head, the memories sharp and exact.
“It still haunts me every day and night,” he said. “Those memories are as vivid as the day I saw them.”
Today, Pappas begins his third week of retirement from 34 years of service as a Social Security worker, meaning he now has additional time to remember the war.
In order to understand the fighting that replays in his memories, Pappas recommends that people watch “Flags of Our Fathers.” The movie, directed by Clint Eastwood, was released on DVD on Feb. 6.
“Eastwood did an outstanding job recreating the battle,” Pappas said. “(The movie) stirs both good and bad memories of the war, ones people should know about.”
The actors in the movie don the World War II garb of the military, but not as good as an authentic Marine.
Pappas’ original blue Marine uniform still hugs his body the way it did in 1945. He wore the garment while being interviewed inside his quaint home in South Wilkes-Barre, the uniform seeming to animate the 18-year-old soldier still contained within Pappas.
“You see this,” said the native of Roanoke, Va., pointing to his uniform. “A proud Marine, a proud Marine, I say.”
His greeting room is not like a greeting room at all, but more of a historical museum. Newspaper clippings dating from the 1940s, war paintings and photographs consume the space in every direction, pulling the contemporary observer into the world of an Iwo Jima veteran.
Pappas’ words were endless when discussing Iwo Jima, but when asked what he thinks about the current situation in Iraq, few words were spoken.
“Well,” Pappas said, “I know what Truman would have done already… and I wouldn’t disagree.”
ON THE WEB To hear audio clips from the interview with John Pappas, log on to www.timesleader.com
Ron Lieback, a Times Leader staff writer, may be reached at 829-7210.
Ellie
By RON LIEBACK rlieback@timesleader.com
The nurses had just finished pulling shrapnel from the wounded soldier’s right leg and lower back.
The intense physical pain was overcome by throbbing emotions, resulting from the Marine having just witnessed the appendages detach from three of his comrades after a red glow and a piercing bang -- a bang that still haunts the 81-year-old veteran’s memory.
Multiple metal shards were soon lying on a stainless steel table amid scissors, pliers and fresh packages of synthetic thread ready for closing the gashes.
After the numerous stitches had sealed out the foreign viruses in the warm Pacific Ocean air, a nurse wheeled the 18-year-old out onto the ship’s deck from the medical rooms contained deep within the vessel.
The private first class sullenly peered at the island of Iwo Jima, where nature had witnessed one of the most horrific battles of World War II.
John Pappas’ hard gaze suddenly turned to one of pride as he witnessed five Marines from the 5th Division and a Navy corpsman raise the Stars and Stripes over the scraps of exploded artillery shells remaining from battle on Mt. Suribachi, the highest vantage point on the island.
The extinct volcanic crater ascends 546 feet into the western Pacific sky, allowing the dauntless fighting men on board the ships to observe the symbol of their freedom.
As the silence tightened in the air around him that Feb. 23, 1945, only his second day in the Pacific, he realized the outcome of the battle was weighing towards his country’s side.
“They raised that flag and I knew we had the island,” Pappas said, reiterating the story in his greeting room on Horton Street in Wilkes-Barre. “I knew right then what I was fighting for.”
Everyone can share that same vision, thanks to Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal freezing the moment in 1-400th of a second, but only a few who fought on the island during February and March 1945 survive to explain the scenes behind the famous photo.
Pappas is one of “the few,” as the Marine slogan goes, with an insight into the horrific fighting the picture represents.
But there is more; the Greek-American had some connection with the photograph, but wouldn’t discuss his involvement until he described some battle scenes.
Pappas was a 3rd Division Marine flamethrower, a demolition specialist, who torched out the enemy entrenched in 16 miles of underground tunnels that crisscrossed Iwo Jima, which is Japanese for Sulfur Island.
“We were supposed to take the island in three days,” Pappas said, “but it took 36 days, around 6,000 soldiers and 20,000 (Japanese soldiers).”
Pappas said the 5 ½-mile-long-by-2-mile-wide isle, shaped like a pork chop, was needed for the two airstrips that the Japanese had built. The Japanese almost completed a third airstrip before the fighting began.
The island is 8 miles in area, or about one third the size of Manhattan, an ample space for the B-29 bombers to refuel on missions to strike Tokyo and other Japanese cities.
“We wouldn’t have won the war without those airstrips,” Pappas said. “We did our duty, though the loss of life was great.”
Pappas began fighting on Feb. 22, 1945, when his division landed on shore in the amphibious vehicles. Twenty thousand soldiers from his division rushed the soft sand towards the enemy. Pappas said they crept 300 yards with complete silence, and then the enemy unloaded their weapons on them.
“They slaughtered us,” Pappas said. “Thousands of men died immediately.”
The nonstop mortar attacks and machine-gun fire continued from the Japanese subterranean lairs, the Americans fighting an invisible Japanese army since they landed on the island on D-Day, Feb. 19.
Soon Pappas’ sergeant instructed Pappas and his three comrades to prepare their flamethrowers.
“We went up there and starting scorching,” he said. “I could hear them screaming … I must have burnt about 20 or 25 of them.”
On their way back to fill their gas tanks for the flamethrowers, Pappas and his fellow soldiers were suddenly under fire, cannon fire overwhelming every other sound on the island.
His three fellow soldiers took cover in a crater created by recent bombings, but there was no room for Pappas, which he said was a blessing. He took cover about 10 yards away.
Then the enemy began another mortar attack.
“Guess what …(it was) a direct hit on my buddies,” Pappas said. “Their heads were blown off, and their shoulders and heads rolled down the ground.”
This was the end of fighting in the war for Pappas. He soon could only hear the battle while looking straight into a smoke-filled sky, descending the island on a stretcher towards the ships docked in the Pacific. The ships were close enough to the island so that their 16-inch guns could reach the enemy, but far enough away so that the wounded could be treated aboard them without danger.
Then, after being treated by medical personnel, Pappas observed the 5th Marine Division erecting the flag that made photographic history.
The image is a moving piece of Americana, one which represents the gallantry of the once-young men during a horrendous battle of World War II.
Pappas has a closer connection, though; before he was injured, his platoon delivered the smaller flag that was raised on Iwo Jima before the larger flag in the famous photo. The Marines lowered the smaller flag as the larger one ascended the 100-pound pole, about to be part of the most reproduced image in history.
“My sergeant said ‘Here’s a little flag. Put it up there on Mt. Suribachi,’ ” Pappas said. “He said watch out, there’s hundreds of mines up there.”
But after Pappas was handed the flag, attacks broke out, and he found himself on the torching mission that took the lives of three of his friends.
“You never know, I could’ve been shot while raising it,” he said.
He said his generation was directly responsible for the freedom America has today. But many in the “greatest generation” have endured the greatest psychological scarring.
Almost 67 years later, Pappas, a recipient of a Purple Heart medal, replays the dreadful and joyful war memories as if they were recorded on a tape in his head, the memories sharp and exact.
“It still haunts me every day and night,” he said. “Those memories are as vivid as the day I saw them.”
Today, Pappas begins his third week of retirement from 34 years of service as a Social Security worker, meaning he now has additional time to remember the war.
In order to understand the fighting that replays in his memories, Pappas recommends that people watch “Flags of Our Fathers.” The movie, directed by Clint Eastwood, was released on DVD on Feb. 6.
“Eastwood did an outstanding job recreating the battle,” Pappas said. “(The movie) stirs both good and bad memories of the war, ones people should know about.”
The actors in the movie don the World War II garb of the military, but not as good as an authentic Marine.
Pappas’ original blue Marine uniform still hugs his body the way it did in 1945. He wore the garment while being interviewed inside his quaint home in South Wilkes-Barre, the uniform seeming to animate the 18-year-old soldier still contained within Pappas.
“You see this,” said the native of Roanoke, Va., pointing to his uniform. “A proud Marine, a proud Marine, I say.”
His greeting room is not like a greeting room at all, but more of a historical museum. Newspaper clippings dating from the 1940s, war paintings and photographs consume the space in every direction, pulling the contemporary observer into the world of an Iwo Jima veteran.
Pappas’ words were endless when discussing Iwo Jima, but when asked what he thinks about the current situation in Iraq, few words were spoken.
“Well,” Pappas said, “I know what Truman would have done already… and I wouldn’t disagree.”
ON THE WEB To hear audio clips from the interview with John Pappas, log on to www.timesleader.com
Ron Lieback, a Times Leader staff writer, may be reached at 829-7210.
Ellie