Posted on 02/19/2003 5:36:51 AM PST by SAMWolf
Okay, okay. I don't really have a dime-sized wart on my nose, and my hair is actually long (well below my shoulders). I was just trying to lower expectations. : )
This was taken by PsyOp, at the 40th Anniversary, held in San Francisco Ca.
Mr. Rosenthatl was in attendance and gave each of the above Devil Dogs a signed 8 x 10 of the original photo, taken from his original negative.
All of the uniforms were lent to us from Pappy Boyington.
I have this photograph on the wall in my office; it reminds me of how young these guys were, and that they were willing to sacrifice everything. This young man had a girl he wanted to marry, a career he wanted to pursue, and he gave it all up when he CHOSE to stay with his buddies on Iwo Jima:
This young man had a girl he wanted to marry, a career he wanted to pursue, and he gave it all up when he CHOSE to stay with his buddies on Iwo Jima.
Something a lot of people seem to forget.
So many things in that book impacted me. That particular passage opened my eyes to how young those guys really were.
He had never kissed a girl. He died for his country before he ever had that simple life experience. That hurt to read.
With the increased media attention on the Marines’ history concerning the Chosin Reservoir Action in Korea 50 years ago this month, I thought this article was most appropriate. After all if we don’t teach children history of our nation, who will? It seems to me that most schools do not have that on their list of priorities. Also, anyone who has visited the Marine Memorial in Washington DC will have a greater appreciation for this story, by a Wisconsinite, which I relay unedited:
Each year I am hired to go to Washington DC with the eighth-grade class from Clinton, WI, where I grew up, to videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation’s capital, and each year I take some special memories back with me. This fall’s trip was especially memorable. On the last night of our trip we stopped at the Iwo Jima memorial. This memorial, which is the largest bronze statue in the world, depicts one of the most famous photographs in history - that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima during WWII.
Over 100 students and chaperons piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, “Where are you guys from?” I told him that we were from Wisconsin. “Hey, I’m a cheesehead too!”he said. “Come gather around, Cheeseheads, and I will tell you a story.” That figure turned out to be James Bradley, who just happened to be in Washington DC to speak at the memorial the following day. Bradley was there that night to say good night to his dad, who has since passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. Now, it is one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with history in Washington DC. But it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night.
When all had gathered around he reverently began to speak. Here are his words that night. My name is James Bradley and I’m from Antigo, Wisconsin. My dad is on that statue and I just wrote a book called “Flags of Our Fathers,” which is #5 on the New York Times Best seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys you see behind me. Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an allstate football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team. They were off to play another type of game—a game called “War,“ But, it didn’t turn out to be a game. Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don’t say that to gross you out; I say that because there are generals who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old.
(He pointed to the statue.) You see this next guy? That’s Rene Gagnon, from New Hampshire. If you took Rene’s helmet off at the moment this photo was taken, and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph—a photograph of his girlfriend. Rene put that in there for protection, because he was scared. He was 18 years old. Boys won the battle of Iwo Jima. Boys. Not old men.
The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the “old man” because he was “so old.” He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn’t say, “Let’s go kill some Japanese” or “Let’s die for our country.” He knew he was talking to little boys. Instead he would say, “You do what I say, and I’ll get you home to your mothers.
The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona. Ira Hayes walked off Iwo Jima. He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, “You’re a hero.” He told reporters, “How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?” So, you take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes died dead drunk, face down at the age of 32, ten years after this picture was taken.
The next guy going around the statue is Franklin Sousley, from Hilltop, Kentucky. A fun-lovin’ hillbilly boy. His best friend, who is now 70, told me, “Yeah you know, we took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn’t get down. Then we fed them Epson salts. Those cows pooped all night.” Yes, he was a fun-lovin’ hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother’s farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. The neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away.
The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley from Antigo, Wisconsin, where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews. When Walter Kronkite’s producers or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say, “No, I’m sorry sir, my dad’s not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don’t know when he is coming back.” My dad never fished or even went to Canada. Usually he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell’s soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn’t want to talk to the press. You see, my dad didn’t see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, ‘cause they are in a photo and a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic. John Bradley from Wisconsin was a caregiver. in Iwo Jima. He probably held over 200 boys as they died. And, when boys died in Iwo Jima, they writhed and screamed in pain. When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, “I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. DID NOT COME BACK.”
So that’s the story about six nice young boys. Three died on Iwo Jima, and three came back as national heroes. Overall, 7000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time.
Suddenly the monument wasn’t just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.
Reprinted from “Follow Me” official publication of the Second Marine Division Association.
(Just kidding)
PhM2c John H. Bradley is a hero of mine, precisely because of the humility he demonstrated after the war (he was also a very brave and selfless corpsman). He understood. He came home to parades and photo ops because he helped put up a replacement flag, but he knew the price paid to take the island.
Blood. Lots of it.
And bravery.
One of the guys in his company was Don Ruhl, the Medal of Honor recipient who threw his own body on a grenade to save another Marine.
I love John Bradley. There was a real man. He knew.
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