What everybody called "Makin Island" was correctly "Makin Atoll," a collection of tiny islands forming a small hollow triangle around a deep-water lagoon. The base of the triangle, shaped like a long, low-sided "U," was Butaritari Island, the largest of the islands. Off its northern point was Little Makin Island. When they had finished here, the Raiders were scheduled to attack and to destroy what personnel and materiel might be found there.
What civilization there was on Butaritari Island was all on the lagoon side-wharves running out from warehouses and buildings to the deep water of the lagoon. To the north of the built-up area were Government Wharf and Government House, now the Japanese headquarters. That was where the vast bulk of the Japanese forces were supposed to be.
McCoy counted rubber boats. He counted fifteen; that meant three were missing.
On the beach somewhere out of sight? Or swamped?
A trio of Raiders came running down the beach in a crouch, their weapons (Thompsons and Garands) at the ready.
"Whoa!" McCoy ordered.
Somewhat sheepishly they stopped, stood erect, and looked at him. Privately hoping it would set an example, McCoy had elected to arm himself with a Garand rather man with any of the array of gung ho automatic weapons in the arms room. He thought that the planned operation called for rifles... and not submachine guns that most people couldn't shoot well anyway, or carbines, whose effectiveness as a substitute for a rifle he questioned.
Their faces were streaked with black grease, and they were wearing what looked like, and in fact were, khaki uniforms that had been dyed black. There was no more India ink in the drafting offices at Camp Catlin, but the Raiders had the black uniforms Carlson couldn't find in quartermaster warehouses anywhere.
"We've been looking for you, Lieutenant," the corporal said, somewhat defensively.
"Where are you?" McCoy asked, clearly meaning the rest of the platoon.
The corporal gestured down the beach behind him. "About a hundred yards, sir."
"You run into anybody from Able Company?" McCoy asked.
"Yes, sir, there's a bunch of them down there, sir," the corporal said.
"You two stay here," McCoy ordered the two Raiders. Then he pointed at the corporal. "You go get the others," he said, and pointed inland. "I'm about fifteen yards in there."
"Aye, aye, sir," the corporal said, and started down the beach.
Colonel Carlson appeared, coming up the beach.
McCoy Saluted.
"Oh, ifs you, McCoy," Carlson said. "Getting your people sorted out?"
"Yes, sir," McCoy said. "I've got at least a platoon of Able Company with me. I'm about to send them down the beach."
"Good," Carlson said. "But despite the confusion, so far so good."
"Yes, sir," McCoy said.
The unmistakable crack of a.30-06 cartridge broke the stillness, clearly audible above the hiss of the surf.
"Oh, shit!" McCoy said, bitterly.
There was no following sound of gunfire. Just the one shot.
"What was that?" one of the Raiders asked, when neither Colonel Carlson nor McCoy spoke.
"That was some dumb sonofabitch walking around with his finger on the trigger," McCoy said furiously. "He might as well have blown a fucking bugle."
"I think this might be a good time for you to join your men, McCoy," Colonel Carlson said, conversationally, and then walked back down the beach.
Chapter Twenty-one
(One)
Butaritari Island, Makin Atoll
0700 Hours, 17 August 1942
At a quarter to six, a runner from Lieutenant Plumley's Able Company had reported to Colonel Carlson that his point (that is, the leading elements of Plumley's troops) was at Government Wharf and that he had captured Government House without resistance. Carlson sent the runner back with orders for Plumley to move down the island in the direction of the other installations, that is to say, southeast, or to the left.
Carlson had expected the bulk of Japanese forces to be in the vicinity of Government House, and had made his plans accordingly. Now it seemed clear to him that the Japanese were in fact centered around On Chong's Wharf, about two miles away. If he had known that, he could have ordered Plumley to move quickly down the island, so that he could get as far as possible before he encountered resistance.
But once the presence of the Raiders on Butaritari became known to the Japanese-and the goddamned fool who had fired his Garand had taken care of that-the situation would change rapidly. If he were the Japanese commander, Carlson reasoned, he would move up Butaritari's one road as fast as he could, until he ran into the enemy.
Carlson's prediction was quickly confirmed. Another runner appeared, saluted, and, still heaving from the exertion of his run, announced, "We got Japs, Colonel."
Carlson extended his map.
"Show me where, son," he said, calmly.
When the runner pointed to the Native Hospital, Carlson nodded. His professional judgment was that the Japanese commander had established his line at the best possible place; the island was only about eleven hundred feet wide at that point.
He turned to his radio operator and told him to try to raise either of the submarines. So far Carlson's radio communication with the submarines had been just about a complete failure, but his time, he was lucky.
"I got the Argonaut, sir," the radio operator reported.
Carlson snatched the microphone and requested Naval gunfire on both the island (to shell Japanese reinforcement routes) and the lagoon, where two small ships were at anchor.
"We do not, repeat not," the Argonaut replied, "have contact with our spotter."
"Then fire without him," Carlson snapped, and tossed the microphone to the radio operator.
There came almost immediately the boom of the cannon firing, and then the whistle of the projectile in the air. Then there was the sound of a shell landing on the island, and almost simultaneously an enormous plume of water in the lagoon.
"Get them again, if you can," Carlson ordered the radio operator. "Tell them to keep it up."
Without thinking about it, without realizing he was doing it, Carlson counted the rounds fired by the cannon on the submarines, just as a competitive pistol shooter teaches you to habitually count shots. When the booming stopped, he was up to sixty-five, and both of the ships in the lagoon were in flames.
And then the Nautilus called him, and before the voice faded, Carlson heard that the Japanese-language linguist aboard the Nautilus had heard the Japanese send a message in the clear reporting the Raider attack and asking for reinforcements. Carlson asked if there had been a reply, but the radio was out again.
That made Carlson think of McCoy, and to wonder if it would not have been smarter to leave him aboard the Nautilus or not even bring him along at all. Japanese-speaking Americans were in short supply.
A moment later, McCoy showed up in person.
"I thought you would want to know what we're facing, sir," he said, and pointed out on Carlson's map the locations of four Japanese water-cooled machine guns, two grenade launchers, and a flame thrower.
"They got riflemen, a bunch of them, filling in the blanks in the line," McCoy said, pointing, "and snipers in the tops of most of the coconut trees along here."
"You didn't want to send a runner?"
"I didn't have one handy that I trusted with a map, sir," McCoy said.
"Well, then, Lieutenant, you can just keep running. Go find the Baker Company commander and tell him I said to get moving, down the island."
"Aye, aye, sir," McCoy said, and ran off.
In the next four hours, a procession of runners reported that Baker Company was making slow but steady progress down the island.
At 1130, two Japanese Navy Type 95 reconnaissance planes appeared over the island, flew back and forth for fifteen minutes, dropped two bombs, and then flew away. Carlson knew that meant the Argonaut and the Nautilus, essentially defenseless against aircraft, had dived, and there was no longer any
reason even to try to raise them on the radio.
The Nautilus surfaced again at 1255, but immediately dived again after their radar detected a flight of twelve aircraft approaching the island. The submarines would remain submerged until 1830 hours.
At 1330, the Japanese aircraft arrived over Butaritari Island. It was quite an armada: two four-engined Kawanishi flying boats (bombers); four Zero fighters; four Type 94 reconnaissance bombers; and two Type 95 seaplanes. They promptly began to bomb and strafe the Raiders, and they kept it up for an hour and a half, but without doing much real damage.
Then, apparently convinced they had wiped out whatever antiaircraft capability the Raiders might have had, one of the four-engined Kawanishis and one of the Type 95s landed in the lagoon. They were promptly engaged by.30-caliber Raider machine-gun fire. The Type 95 caught fire. And the Kawanishi hurriedly taxied out of.30-caliber range and began to discharge its passengers--thirty-five Japanese soldiers intended to reinforce the Butaritari garrison-apparently oblivious to the fact that a slow but steady fire from a Boys.55-caliber antitank rifle was being delivered.
When the Kawanishi made its takeoff, it almost immediately entered into a series of violent circling maneuvers. The last of these sent it, with an enormous splash, into the lagoon.
The Japanese aircraft that remained over Butaritari then left, but more Zeros returned at 1630 and bombed and strafed the island for another thirty minutes. From the way they were flying and choosing to drop their bombs, it was evident to Carlson that there was little if any communication between the Japanese defenders of Butaritari and the aircraft that came to their assistance: The Zeros were attacking a portion of the island he had ordered the Raiders out of (to better counter Japanese sniper fire). And the Japanese had promptly moved into this position. The Zeros were consequently attacking Japanese positions and troops.
By 1700, Carlson understood that he had an important decision to make. He had two options. His mission was to destroy enemy forces and vital installations, and to capture prisoners and documents. So far, the Raiders had killed a number of Japanese, but there were no prisoners, no documents, and no serious damage to installations.
Choice One was to continue his advance.
But the operations plan called for the Raiders to evacuate Butaritari at some time between 1930 and 2100. And it also called for attacking Little Makin Island the next morning.
Choice Two was to hold his present position and make a very orderly withdrawal by stages to the beaches, the boats, and ultimately the submarines. If he did that, he would be in a position to attack Little Makin on schedule. After some thought, he decided that made the most sense.
By 1900, Carlson had established (under his own command; he felt it his duty to be the last Marine off the beach) a covering force for the disengagement, and the bulk of the Raiders were on the beach, loading the rubber boats for the return to the submarines, which had surfaced at 1845, and were now prepared to cover the withdrawal with Naval gunfire in addition to taking the Raiders aboard.
But now he was facing another enemy, the sea. The surf, which had posed no serious problems as they landed, now wouldn't let them off the island. This came as a surprise; for the waves were not especially large. And until he actually got in them, he didn't see what the problem was. They were moving very fast, and succeeding waves piled in very quickly. The trouble was that the waves were crowded too close together for the boats to operate.
Raiders walked their boats into the surf, and they generally managed to get past the first four waves without trouble. But then the agony started. Only a few of the outboard engines could be made to start, and those that they did get running were quickly drowned as waves crashed over the bows of the rubber boats and soaked coils and points.
After that, the Raiders tried paddling.
But paddling rhythmically and furiously for all they were worth, the Raiders could not make it past the rollers coming into the beach; they would make it over one roller only to be hit and thrown back by the next before they could gain momentum.
Boats filled to the gunwales. The Raiders bailed furiously. Then they loosened the outboard motors and dropped them over the side. And then they got out and pulled the boats by their own efforts, by swimming.
Surf turned boats over, which sent the Raiders' weapons, ammunition, and equipment to the bottom. But even empty, it was impossible to get the boats past the wave line.
After an hour, Carlson ordered back to the beach everybody that had not made it through the close-packed waves. When he got there, he found that less than half of the boats had made it through the surf. Thus more than half of the Raiders were still on the beach, and they were exhausted. Most of them had lost their weapons and equipment and rations. And there were a few wounded men, including four stretcher cases. These then were in pain, and obviously in no condition to keep trying to get off the beach.
So Carlson ordered all the boats pulled well up on the shore. He collected what weapons there were, set up a perimeter defense, and did what he could for the wounded. Then he formed teams to keep trying (it was possible that the surf was a freak condition, which would pass) to get through the surf, one boat at a time.
Carlson conducted a nose count. There were 120 Raiders still on the beach. And then, as if to suggest that God was displeased, it began to rain.
As soon as daylight made it possible, the Raiders tried Carlson's idea of forcing their boats through the surf one at a time. When one boat made it, another tried, and when it made it, then another tried. The wounded, Carlson knew, could not be extracted this way, and he would not leave them. He therefore ordered Captain Roosevelt into one of the boats so he could assume command of the Marines on the submarines. When he was sure Roosevelt had made it, he ran another nose count. Now there were seventy then on the beach.
At 0740, five Raiders aboard the Nautilus volunteered to take a boat with a working motor as close to shore as it could manage. Then one of the Raiders swam ashore from it with a message from Commander Haines that the subs would lay off the island as long as necessary to get the Raiders off the beach.
Then Japanese Zeros appeared. And the subs made emergency dives. The Japanese strafed the beach, and then turned their attention to the rubber boat with its volunteer crew. Nothing more was ever seen of it-or of them.
When Roosevelt, whose rubber boat had been the fourth and last to make its way through the rollers, started counting noses aboard the Nautilus, he came across Lieutenant Peatross and the remaining eight of the then who had been with him in his rubber boat during the initial landing.
He was convinced that Peatross and his then had been swamped. But they hadn't. The current had taken them a mile farther down the beach than any of the others, where they had made it safely ashore. When they heard the firing, they had literally marched toward the sound of gunfire. And then he and his then had spent the day harassing the Japanese rear. They had burned down his buildings, blown up a radio station, and burned a truck.
And in compliance with orders, still not having made their way through Japanese lines to the others, they had at 1930 gotten back in their rubber boat and made it through the surf to the waiting submarine.
During the afternoon of August 18, Carlson moved what was left of his forces to Government House on the lagoon side of the island. There they found a sloop. And for a short while
(until it was determined that the sloop was unseaworthy), there was a spurt of hope that they could use it to get off the island.
Meanwhile, a radio was made to work long enough to establish a brief tie with the Nautilus. Evacuation would be attempted from the lagoon side of the island at nightfall.
Carlson sent then to manhandle the boats from the seaside beaches across the narrow island to the lagoon. Then he led a patrol toward the Japanese positions. He stripped the deserted office of the Japanese commander of what he had left behind (including his lieutenant general's flag, which the Raiders forwarded to Marine Commandant Holcomb). And then they
burned and blew up one thousand barrels of Japanese aviation gasoline.
The fire was still burning at 2308 hours, when Colonel Carlson, believing himself to be the last man off the beach, went aboard the Nautilus.
There was no question of attacking Little Makin Island. For one thing, they would be expected. And the then not only had no weapons, they were exhausted.
The Raid on Makin Island was over. The Nautilus and the Argonaut got underway for Pearl Harbor.
(Two)
Pearl Harbor Navy Base, Territory of Hawaii
W E B Griffin - Corp 02 - Call to Arms Page 41
