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 are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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Posted on 02/19/2003 5:36:51 AM PST by SAMWolf
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are acknowledged, affirmed and commemorated.
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in Marine Corps History On Monday, February 19, 1945, U.S. Marines hit the sands of Iwo Jima.  The Marines had overwhelming force and controlled the sea and air. The Japanese had the most ingenious and deadly fortress in military history. The Marines had Esprit de Corps and felt they could not lose. The Japanese fought for their god-Emperor and felt they had to die fighting.  The Marines were projecting American offensive power thousands of miles from home shores with a momentum that would carry on to create the Century of the Pacific. The Japanese were fighting a tenacious defensive battle protecting the front door to their ancient land. The geography, topography and geology of the island guaranteed a deadly and bizarre battle. The large numbers of men and small size of the island ensured the fighting would be up close and vicious. Almost one hundred thousand men would fight on a tiny island just eight square miles. Four miles by two miles. If you're driving 60 miles an hour in your car, it takes you four minutes to drive four miles. It took the Marines 36 days to slog that four miles. Iwo Jima would be the most densely populated battlefield of the war with one hundred thousand combatants embraced in a death dance over an area smaller than one third the size of Manhattan island.  From the air the island looked like a bald slice of black moonscape shaped like a porkchop. All its foliage had been blown off by bombs. The only "life" visible on the island were puffs of "rotten egg" stinking sulphur fumes coming from vents that seemed connected to hell. Correspondents in airplanes could see tens of thousands of Marines on one side of the island fighting against a completely barren side of stone. On foot it was a morass of soft volcanic sand or a jumble of jagged rock. The Marines sought protection in shell holes blasted by the bombardment. Foxholes were impossible to dig, either the sand collapsed in on you or your shovel failed to dent the hard obsidian floor. Bullets and mortars would come from nowhere to kill. The Marines would come across a cave or blockhouse and shoot and burn all its defenders to death. They would peer into the cavern and assure themselves no one was left there to hurt them. They'd move on only to be shocked when that "dead" position came alive again behind them. The Marines thought they were fighting men in isolated caves and had no idea of the extensive tunnels below.  A surgeon would establish an operating theater in a safe place. With sandbags and tarp he'd build a little hospital and treat his patients away from the battle. Then at night when he lay down exhausted to sleep he'd hear foreign voices below him. Only when his frantic fingers clawed through the sand and hit the wooden roof of an underground cavern would he realize he had been living atop the enemy all along. The days were full of fear and nights offered terror. The Marines were sleeping on ground that the Japanese had practiced how to crawl over in the darkness, they knew every inch. Imagine sleeping in a haunted man- sion where the owner is a serial murderer who knows the rooms and stairways and trapdoors by touch and you are new. Then you can imagine the tortured sleep of the Marines. Experienced naval doctors had never seen such carnage. Japanese tanks and high caliber anti-aircraft guns hidden behind walls of rock and concrete ensured that the Marines would not just be cut down, but cut in half or blown to bits. A seventy five year old veteran of Iwo Jima would still reflexively open his bedroom window in 1999 after dreaming of the battle once again. Fifty four years after the battle the stench of death still filled his nostrils.  The bodies lay everywhere. Young boys who had never been to a funeral became accustomed to rolling another dead buddy aside. Kids full of life worked on burial duty unloading bodies from trucks stacked with death. Mothers back home would tear open the ominous telegrams with trembling fingers. The survivors would remember sailing away and seeing the rows and rows of white crosses and stars of Davids. Almost seven thousand. Today there are still over six thousand Japanese dead still entombed under the island, dead where they fell in their tunnels and caves. Recently two hundred sixty were excavated, some mummified by the sulphur gases, their glasses sitting straight atop preserved noses, hair still on their heads. Military geniuses predicted a three day battle, an "easy time." Some of the nicest boys America would ever produce slogged on for thirty six days in what would be the worst battle in the history of the US Marine Corps. Generals conferred over maps while tanks, airplanes, naval bombs and artillery pounded the island. But it was the individual Marine on the ground with a gun that won the battle. Marines without gladiator's armor who would advance into withering fire. Marines who would not give up simply because they were Marines. A mint in Washington would cast more medals for these Iwo Jima heroes than for any group of fighters in America's history.  America would embrace these heroes, but they were enthralled by an image of heroism, by a photo. Millions of words would be written in the US about 1/400th of a second no one on Iwo Jima thought worthy of remark at the time. Thousands would seek autographs from three survivors who felt "we hadn't done much." Battles would be fought over that image, some dying early because of their inclusion, some living bitterly because of their exclusion. But that would all come later. After two battles were fought on Iwo Jima, one for Mt. Suribachi and the southern part of the island the other for the northern part. And after one hundred thousand individual battles, personal battles of valor and fear, of determination and dirt.
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Historical excerpt on USS Callaghan
Callaghan [DD-792] was on radar picket station off Okinawa July 28th 1945.
She was due to go home...overhaul for the ship;recuperation for the crew.
As midwatch came on ,the ships log entered the 29th...Destroyer USS Laws was on her way to relieve Callaghan;this was to be her last hour on station at Okinawa.
Tragically...she would not last the hour.
At 0030 a "bogey" was reported..the crew rushed to the general quarters chime..seconds later 5" main batteries opened fire,smearing the night sky with splashes of flame.
The kamikaze bore in..crashing Callaghan near the upper turret 3 munitions handlers room.
A thunderclap blast rocked the destroyer..then a second detonation sending ships superstructure hundreds of feet into the night sky in a pillar of flame.
Callaghan, burning furiously began to list immediately and flood...in minutes the sea was washing over her stern.
At 0050 Callaghan was ordered abandoned....ships closed to rescue the crew....71 men and 2 officers seriously wounded.
Survivors and rescuers watched Callaghans fires illuminate the night until she slid under,taking 46 bluejackets and 1 officer.
USS Callaghan had 12 Japanese planes painted on her fire control director..but she could not kill the 13th.
Callaghan was the last U.S. destroyer to go down off Okinawa..sadly..she would be number 13.
I think that before the war on terrorism is over that the Euro-weenie's will pay a very high price for their liberal-weenie policies.
I'll be very interested to read of your fathers fighting on Iwo Jima. You can't write enough about a Hero like him for me. Thanks!
I have seen it, although I was not in the Corps! It is now at Arlington National Cemetery. It is one of the most beautiful statue's I have ever seen. I think that it is made of brass. After looking carefully you realize that there are six Marines, rather then the five you see at first glance.
SAM, the USS Texas is now a national monument not far from Houston. Me and a couple of work buddies went on board her on a recent road job in Houston. It's kept up fairly good, even after all these years.
I've heard... that a FReeper who visits the Foxhole looks remarkably like Hannity... Sure wish someone would post a pix so we could determine if the rumor is true...
Thanks for the post. My eyes were leaking a little as I read it to. It stirred up alot of emotions that don't come to the surface all that often. It seems to happen here in the FReeper Foxhole most of the time.
Great photo PhilDragoo! Thanks!
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