The Things Our Fathers Saw—The Untold Stories of the World War II Generation From Hometown, USA-Volume I: Voices of the Pacific Theater

by Matthew Rozell

  Mount Suribachi was quite a sight, too. There, for a while, you could watch what was going on. They put spotlights on it at night, and they were pounding with everything they had! They put 20-mm and 5-inch guns—and the 16s—they were really pounding it. I don’t know if it did any good, the [Japanese] had the caves. But they were really working it over!

  Flag of our Fathers

  AP combat photographer Joe Rosenthal took the iconic photo of the flag-raising on Iwo Jima. As at Peleliu, mission planners had expected the island to fall within a few days. Only a third of Iwo Jima had been taken when the U. S. flag appeared over the peak of Mount Suribachi on D–Day+4.

  Art LaPorte

  I didn’t actually see the flag go up. We were pretty far inland, by that time, from the cliffs. I volunteered with another guy to go and get some food for the platoon. As we approached the cliffs, I looked over and I saw the flag flying. I said to my buddy—not knowing that it would become so famous—I said, ‘What in the devil do they have that flying for? We haven’t even taken this damned place…’

  Sandy Berkman

  I lasted four and a half days. I got hit on February 23rd, about 30 minutes after the flag went up on Suribachi. Part of my outfit went to Suribachi, and the rest of us went to the airfield. We had to secure the airfield—that’s the way they broke us up.

  By the fourth day we’d only advanced less than a mile. We were pinned down most of the time. We couldn’t even set ourselves up to meet the enemy. I was lying there waiting to pull my platoon up into a flank, and I looked over and I saw the flag up, and it was a wonderful sight. I saw the first flag. There were two flags that went up. Then they put up the second flag—that was the famous photograph. About thirty minutes after that, I guess they [the Japanese] got a little mad at us, because we got everything thrown at us, and I got hit. I got hit with a mortar shell, all across my back. I had eight pieces [of shrapnel], they found out later, that hit me.

  I gave myself a shot of morphine. The officers were allowed to carry it; we were the only ones that could take it with us. And I gave myself a shot to ease the pain up a little bit. The corpsmen saw me, and they came and got me, and they took me out on a stretcher and they took me down to the beach. Then I went to a hospital ship. From the hospital ship, I went to Saipan to a field hospital, and from Saipan I went to Hawaii to a field hospital. From Hawaii I went to San Francisco, and from San Francisco I went to St. Albans in Long Island. They tried to get you as close to home as they could. I was at St. Albans until June of 1945.

  I lost a lot of people who I knew, especially in my platoon. I later found out that we had almost 100 percent casualties in my platoon. It was just a devastating place to be. The island was nothing, really, but we had to get the airfields. There was no question whether we had to or didn’t have to—we had to, because by the time we completed the engagement, the first [U.S.] planes landed that were hit, and they would have never made it back to Saipan.[60]

  Ralph Leinoff

  Now we were about two miles up from Mount Suribachi, where the flag was raised. We were put into a reserve position until we could get manpower; other units took over the front line, and we were put on reserve. While I was up on the airfield, I could see the mountain; I thought I spotted a little fleck of color up there at the top. I was like, ‘What the hell is that?’—because you were still seeing smoke coming up. We didn’t think that they had gotten up there. And I borrowed one of the officer’s field glasses, I took a look and I said, ‘Son of a gun, there’s an American flag flying—they’re up there!’ But what happened was they bypassed a lot of pillboxes to get up there, they got up there as fast as they could. They took a tremendous beating going up, and they went by a lot of Japanese machine gunners and all.

  In his enthusiasm to be a Marine, Ralph had joined up although he was still technically a member of the New York State Guard. He recalled mail call on Iwo Jima.

  Ralph Leinoff, 2013. Portrait by Erica Miller.

  Courtesy of the Saratogian.

  (Note his painting in background.)

  They brought up some fresh food, water and supplies and even brought up mail. At about two weeks into the operation, one of the letters I got was a postcard from the New York State Guard, threatening me with a court martial because I had been missing the drills. So I told my sergeant, I said, ‘Sergeant, I’m sorry to tell you this but I have to get back. I’m missing the drills in the New York State Guard. They want me back there.’ [chuckling] He said, ‘Get back to your foxhole.’ [He laughs again] So it was kind of a comical relief.

  So anyway, we started to get mail, and one of the things I got that was distributed by the Navy was a little small edition of Time Magazine. And as I sat there eating a sandwich I was going through this small magazine, and I came upon the picture, the [now famous] photograph—it was all black and white, no color. I said, ‘Son of a—look at this silhouette! There’s six guys here trying to raise the flag on Mount Suribachi!’ So I started drawing. We had nothing else to do; we were in reserve until we got up there to the airfield. I had letterhead, I had a pencil, and so on—I was drawing it! And I kept the drawing, and finally when we got back to our base in Maui, I was serious. I said, ‘I’m going to go get some paper and some paint—some watercolors’. At that time it just came out, nobody really knew [how iconic the picture would become]. The paintings that the artists made afterward with the oil, of course, were much superior. I’m not a professional artist, but yes, I used to try to paint pictures of some of the men who were killed. I would try to make a picture and send it home to the family. I didn’t do too many, because some of the letters I got back in appreciation were really heartbreaking…and they wanted to know the ‘when, how, and why’; they wanted all the details how the men got killed, and well it’s… [pauses a short while] War is hell, it really is, and if you try to describe it, it just—it just can’t be done, can’t be done.

  Art LaPorte

  Art’s unit moved up to secure the unfinished airfield. Looking for cover, he received a shock.

  We got the word that one of our outfits got the pounding pretty bad, so we were the replacements. We went up during the night, early morning, and moved into position. They told us to get in a foxhole. I got into a foxhole quickly, and there was another Marine sitting there. I see his feet. I brought my eyes up his body, and his rifle was standing beside him. So I said to him, ‘I’m going to get in with you, all right?’ And no answer. As I come up his body, no head [motions across his neck]. Some Japanese officer or somebody with a sword had taken his head off during the night. I felt the hair raise on the back of my head, and I got away from there! I found another foxhole and jumped in it.

  Art LaPorte.

  ‘I’ve got a good one for you, Doc.’

  That morning, 12 days into the attack, Art was hit.

  I was kind of in a shallow place, I was going to run up and join my outfit—they were a little ahead. All of a sudden a sniper was putting shots right by my head. I could almost feel it, so I figured I better run. So I zigzagged. Of course, if you zigzag, you make yourself a harder target. Next thing I know, I’m flying through the air. A machine gun burst had gone by me, and they were using explosive bullets. And so, luckily, I landed in a 5-inch shell hole; our guns on the destroyers were 5 inches in diameter across the shell, like the battlewagons had 16-inch diameter across that shell. Now the 16-inch shell was about across my body wide [motioning] 2,000 lbs., and you can imagine what explosive that is. You could put about 15 or 20 people in the [crater made by the shell on impact], I'd say. So I looked down at my leg, and I could see the bone, and you could put your fist into it. I could hear some guys in the next 16-inch shell hole, so I think I hollered over to them, ‘I’m hit.’ I wasn’t feeling any pain, I was in shock. As bad as it is, it was no pain that I remember. And so, I heard somebody running, and somebody popped down on me, and the machine gun was trying to get him. And it was my Sergeant, section leader. And he says, ‘How bad you hit?’ And I said
‘Pretty bad.’ I think he said, ‘Jesus,’ and he ran into the 16-inch shell hole. And this time, another body landed on me, and it was a corpsman this time. And he tried to patch me up, but that machine gun kept trying to pick him off. So he says, ‘I can’t work on you here, I haven’t got room enough,’ because it was very shallow. And he said, ‘Would you take a chance? We can push you across to the 16-inch shell hole.’ It was a short distance, maybe 10 feet. I said, ‘Sure, I got to get patched up.’ So he pushed against my good leg, and I’m trying to crawl. And the other guys in the 16-inch shell hole are reaching out for me. And one of them got a graze against the wrist.

  They got me down in the hole; it was pretty deep, probably six or eight feet deep. Quite wide, too. They worked on me—patched me up. Then they left; they had to go to Hill 382. So all day I was there, I tried to drink water. But I couldn’t, I’d throw it up. Tried to eat food, same thing. I noticed a funny sensation, like something wet. I knew that they had bound up the wounds good. I was worried about hemorrhaging, so I pulled up my pants’ leg, and there was a fountain—about an inch or two high—coming out of my kneecap. A piece of shrapnel had gone in and hit an artery or whatever is in there. I had used my bandage on my wounds; the only thing I had was toilet paper. So I put that on with some pressure, and it stopped the bleeding.

  I was by myself in the shell crater. I was all alone. All kinds of weapons were firing because they were trying to pick our men off. My company was going against 382. And, of course, I was right in line with it. I’d peep up and try to see how they were doing, but I didn’t dare to stand up on my good leg. I looked back toward some rocks behind me. Some of our men were there, and stretcher-bearers, but they didn’t dare send anyone because there were so many bullets flying around. And they didn’t want to lose four men to save one.

  I was there about eight hours. I was concerned that they would leave me there and the Japanese would get me. Then, my sergeant came by and asked if I was still there. I don’t know how he got me out of that 16-inch shell hole but he asked me if I could stand on the good leg. He put me in a fireman’s carry and carried me out under fire.

  On the hospital ship, LaPorte waited his turn for surgery.

  From where I was I could watch the doctors operate. It was a table, and around the table was a trough. What fascinated me was when the trough was filled with blood, and when the ship would rock, the blood would go back and forth in unison with the ship.

  They finally got to me, and I believe I said to the doctor, ‘I’ve got a good one for you, Doc.’ Because the one that was ahead of me apparently couldn’t take the pain too good. And he was screaming and hollering, and I could see the doctor. They were working right around the clock, and they looked awful tired. And I said to myself, ‘I’m not going to give them a hard time’—they had enough trouble. So when he got to me, I watched him. It really didn’t bother me. I could see him clipping with scissors around the wound, taking the jagged edges off. Then, when I got done, they put me out on the side where I could look out and see Iwo. Like a sundeck or something. That was the last time I saw Iwo—we sailed for Guam.[61]

  The Guys Left Behind

  Herb Altshuler

  One thing I will always remember is the day or two before we left the island, before we got back on that ship, they had services and they dedicated the cemetery on Iwo. I remember sitting on a hill looking down and there was a flag pole—they used dogs for bringing messages back from the front forward to the firing units in the back, and they had the [dead] dogs lined up around the flagpole where they were to be buried… You see a large area of your [dead] men just lined up, and… then I saw heavy equipment, and that [the ground] was plowed, and all the dead bodies were laid out. You could see dead bodies as far as you wanted to look, and then you realized that war was not fun and games. These were the guys that were left behind.[62]

  A total of 27 Medals of Honor were awarded for individual acts of heroism under fire at Iwo Jima. The island was deemed secure on March 25 − 25 days longer than planners had counted on. Nearly 7,000 Americans and 19,000 Japanese died at Iwo Jima. It was the Marines’ costliest battle ever.[63]

  chapter eleven

  Captivity-Year 4:

  The Copper Mine

  As 1945 dawned, Joe Minder and 500 other prisoners would depart from Formosa for the Japanese home islands. After nearly two weeks, they arrived in Kyushu, where they would then be shipped north in boxcars to arrive at a freezing copper mine, slaving for Japanese industrialists. Many of the major Japanese corporations lobbied the government intensively for the opportunity to exploit American laborers, especially skilled ones, though the prisoners were routinely starved and abused. Nearly forty percent of the 27,000 American slave laborers died in captivity. Joe’s journey was far from over.

  Joe Minder

  Hell, Revisited

  January 12, 1945

  Hell again! Found out last night that we’re going to be shipped to Japan.

  Americans are much more active around here now. We have seen many planes fly over our camp and have also heard the rumble of bombs and strafing from the Yank planes. I hate to think of dodging those torpedoes and bombs on the open seas again, but God saved us on that last trip and if he answers our prayers, we will make this okay, also.

  4:00 PM

  Arrived at Port Takao by train and went aboard a little larger ship this time, named ‘Melbourne Maru’. After loading on sugar and salt, we sailed for Moji, Japan.

  January 22, 1945

  We didn’t have contact with any Yanks until today when we had another attack by an American sub. Several depth charges were dropped and drove it off. Now we are wondering if American planes will be after us!

  January 23, 1945

  Sailed safely into Moji.

  January 25, 1945

  Disembarked at Moji, got on train and started for Hanaoka on the northern tip of Japan.

  January 29, 1945

  After a four-day bitter cold train ride, we finally arrived here at camp, where we will work in this open copper mine as soon as a little of this snow melts. What a different climate—in the south of Japan there are oranges on the trees, here there is about four feet of snow and cold as heck!

  Mittens Made of Grass

  February 20, 1945

  Started working in the mine today, loading dirt into four-wheeled steel cars and pushing them about one mile by hand. With only shoes and mittens made of grass, our hands and feet are about to freeze in this bitter cold!

  March 6, 1945

  Had our first bath in 54 days today! They broke down and even gave us wood to heat our water with!

  What a camp this is! We have to carry all water from outside the camp and carry the wood in on our backs, about two miles from here. They ration the wood out to us every day. Those 15 sticks which they give us don’t even take the chill off of our barracks. Several men are suffering from chilled feet and hands.

  April 1, 1945

  One hundred men arrived in camp from Kawasaki.

  April 4, 1945

  Received one American Red Cross food parcel per man. I enjoyed this better than any other chow that I have ate in my life!

  April 19, 1945

  Received second Red Cross parcel, less a half can of butter, due to stealing by new men in camp.

  May 5, 1945

  Celebrated my birthday by having a can of pâté baked into a rice loaf. Also had some coffee, which I saved from my Red Cross parcel.

  June 18, 1945

  Four men escaped from camp!

  Working conditions are steadily getting harder and our food is getting lousier every day. When we first got here, we received a little fish and horse bones to flavor our soup, but we have to work on plain watery greens soup and a small bowl of barley.

  Several men have gotten so weak out in the mine that they have fainted and tumbled off of the ledges while picking at the dirt!

  June 28, 1945

  Our morale went up toda
y when 45 Australian officers joined our camp! They gave us the dope as to how the Yanks were blasting Tokyo and other large cities south of here. Where their camp was located in southern Japan, bombing became so terrific that the Japs were forced to evacuate the entire area!

  chapter twelve

  A Rain of Ruin

  Strategic bombing raids to Japan began in earnest from the newly liberated Marianas Islands as the fighting ended in the early summer of 1944. By early 1945, wave after wave of the sleek new B–29 Superfortresses began to arrive in the skies over Japan. A quantum leap in aviation technology, the B–29 was much longer, wider, and faster than its predecessor, the B–17, and capable of carrying a much larger bomb load over vast expanses of ocean over thousands of miles. Additionally, the densely populated industrial areas of Japan and the dispersal of Japanese industry into domestic settings (i.e., people’s homes) would have grave consequences for the populations within the areas to be targeted.