by Daniel Wrinn
Shepherd convinced General Geiger of the wisdom of this approach, but getting General Buckner’s approval took much longer. Eventually, Buckner agreed but only gave the 6th Marine Division thirty-six hours to plan and execute this division-level amphibious assault.
Colonel Krulak relished this challenge. Scouts from Major “Cold Steel” Walker’s 6th Recon Company crept across the statuary at night to gather intelligence on the enemy defenders and Nishikoku Beaches. Scouts confirmed a cobbled force of Japanese Navy units under an old adversary. The final opposed amphibious landing of the Pacific War would be launched against one of the last surviving SNLF (Special Naval Landing Force) commanders—Admiral Minoru Ota.
Admiral Ota was fifty-four years old and a graduate of the Japanese Naval Academy. A veteran of the elite SNLF service from as early as 1932 in Shanghai. Ten years later, he commanded the 2nd Combined Special Landing Force meant to assault Midway but was prevented by the catastrophic naval defeat suffered by the Japanese.
In November 1942, he commanded the 8th Combined Special Landing Force in the Solomons, defending Bairoko against the 1st Marine Raiders. By 1945, the SNLF had mostly disappeared. Ota was in command of a motley outfit of several thousand coastal defense and antiaircraft gunners, aviation mechanics, and construction specialists. Ota still breathed fire into his forces. He equipped his ragtag troops with hundreds of machine cannons from wrecked aircraft and made them sow thousands of mines.
Shepherd knew he was in for a fight and that he faced a skilled opponent; he also realized that he had the advantage of surprise if his forces could act quickly. The final planning details centered on problems with the division’s previously dependable LVTs. The hard-fighting onshore had taken a hefty toll on the tracks and suspension systems of these amphibious assault vehicles—and there were no repair parts available. Worse, the first typhoon of the season was approaching, and the Navy was getting jumpy. General Shepherd remained resolute in executing the assault on June 4, and Admiral Halsey backed him up.
Shepherd chose Colonel Shapley to lead the 4th Marines in the assault. Shapley divided the 650-yard Nishikoku Beach between the 1/4 Marines on the right and the 2/4 on the left. Despite the heavy rains, the assault jumped off on schedule. The Oroku Peninsula exploded in smoke and flame under the hammering of hundreds of naval guns, aerial bombs, and artillery batteries. Scouts secured Ono Yama island while the 4th Marines swept across the statuary. LCIs and LCMs loaded with tanks appeared from Loomis Harbor in the north.
The amphibious force achieved total surprise. Many of the busted-up LVTs broke down en route, causing delays, but enemy fire was negligible. Empty LVTs from the first waves quickly returned to rescue the stranded troops. The 4th Marines rapidly advanced with Colonel Whaling’s 29th Marines close behind. By dusk, Marines occupied 1,200 yards on Oroku Peninsula. A furious Admiral Ota redeployed his sailors to the threat from the rear.
This amphibious assault had been near-perfect and a model for future study in amphib ops. The typhoon blew through while the Marines occupied the peninsula and captured the airfield in two days. On June 7, when the 1st Division reached the southwest coast north of Itoman, Admiral Ota’s force had no chance of escape. General Shepherd ordered a threefold enveloping movement with his regiments—leading to the inevitable outcome.
The battle for the Oroku Peninsula was savage. Admiral Ota was no ordinary enemy commander. His 5,000 troops fought with a warrior’s spirit and were heavily armed. No similar size Okinawan force had so many automatic weapons or so effectively placed mines. Marines encountered devastating enemy weapons at short range—rail-mounted 8-inch rockets, “the Screaming Mimi,” and massive 320mm spigot mortars firing “Flying Ashcans.”
On June 9, the 4th Marines reported: “Stubborn defense of high ground by MG and 20mm fire. Character of opposition unchanged. L Hill under attack from two sides. Another tank shot on right flank, thinking 8-inch gun.”
Admiral Ota saw the end coming. On June 6, he reported to Tokyo: “The troops have fought valiantly in the finest tradition of the Japanese Navy. While fierce bombardments may have deformed the mountains of Okinawa, they cannot alter the loyal spirit of our men.” Three days later, Ota sent his final message to General Ushijima: “Enemy tank groups now attack our cave headquarters. The naval force will have a glorious death.” Ota committed ritual suicide—his duty now done.
General Shepherd had defeated a competent and worthy foe. In his Oroku operation after-action report he said: “In ten days of fighting we killed 5,000 Japanese and took 200 prisoners. Mines disabled thirty of our tanks. One tank was destroyed by two direct hits from an 8-inch naval gun at point-blank range. 1,608 Marines were wounded or killed.”
Wrapping up the Fight
When the 1st Marine Division reached the coast near Itoman, it was the first time the division had access to the sea in over a month. This relieved the veteran division’s extended supply lines. Colonel Snedeker, CO of the 7th Marines, wrote: “As we reached the shore we were helped a great deal by amphibian tractors that had come down the coast with supplies. Otherwise, there was no way in hell we could get supplies overland.”
The wide-open southern country allowed General del Valle to further refine the deployment of his infantry-tank teams. No unit in the Tenth Army surpassed the 1st Marine Division’s synchronization of these two supporting arms. Using those painfully learned tactical lessons from Peleliu, the 1st Division never allowed their tanks to range beyond the support of accompanying artillery and infantry. This resulted in the 1st Tank Battalion being the only armored unit in the battle not to lose a tank to Japanese suicide squads—even during the swirling close-quarter combat at Wana Draw.
General del Valle appreciated his attached Army 4.2 mortar battery: “My tanks had such good luck because the 4.2s were vital in Okinawa. We developed the tank infantry training to a fare-thee-well in those swales—backed up by the 4.2-inch mortars.”
According to Colonel “Bigfoot” Brown of the 11th Marines: “Working with Lieutenant Colonel ‘Jeb’ Stuart and the 1st Tank Battalion, we developed a new method of protecting tanks and reducing infantry vulnerability during the assault. We’d put an artillery observer in one of those tanks with a radio to one of the 155mm howitzer battalions. We used both packs of the 75mm, and LVT-As with the airburst capabilities. If any Jap [suicider] showed his face anywhere, we opened fire with an airburst and kept a pattern of pattering shell fragments around the tanks.”
On June 10, Colonel Jim Magee’s 2/1 Marines used similar tactics in a bloody all-day assault on Hill 69—west of Ozato. Magee’s Marines lost three tanks to enemy artillery in the approach. But they still took the hill and held it through a savage enemy counterattack that night.
Kunishi Ridge loomed beyond Hill 69. A steep coral escarpment dominated the surrounding grasslands and rice patties. Kunishi was longer and higher than Sugar Loaf, but equally honeycombed with enemy caves and tunnels. While it lacked cover with Half-Moon and Horseshoe on its rear flanks, it was still protected from behind by Masato Ridge—500 yards south. Fragments of the veteran 32nd Infantry Regiment defended the many hidden bunkers. This was the last of General Ushijima’s organized frontline troops. Kunishi Ridge would be as deadly a killing ground as the Marines would ever face in the Pacific War.
On June 11, enemy gunners repelled the first tank-infantry assaults by the 7th Marines. Colonel Snedeker had a different plan: “I realized, due to the losses of experienced leadership, we’d never be able to take Kunishi Ridge in the daytime. I thought a night attack could be successful.”
Snedeker flew over his objective and devised his plan. Tenth Army night assaults were rare in this campaign—especially Snedeker’s ambitious plan of deploying two battalions. But General del Valle approved his plan, and at 0330 the next morning, the 1/7 and 2/7 departed the combat outpost for the dark ridge. By 0500, lead companies of both battalions swarmed over the crest and surprised several enemy groups calmly cooking breakfast. Then, a brutal battle to
expand the toehold on the ridge exploded into action.
As dawn broke, enemy gunners targeted relief infantry columns as Marines clung to the crest and endured showers of shrapnel from grenades and mortar rounds. According to General del Valle: “This situation was one of the tactical oddities in this type of peculiar warfare. We were on the ridge, and the Japs were in the ridge, on both the forward and reverse slopes.”
Marines on Kunishi desperately needed supplies and reinforcements. The growing number of wounded needed evacuation. Only the medium Shermans had the bulk and the ability to provide relief. Over the next several days, the 1st Tank Battalion (even losing twenty-two Shermans to enemy fire) made remarkable achievements. They removed two crewmen to make room for six replacement riflemen inside each tank. Once on top of the hill they exchanged replacements for wounded, but no one could stand without getting shot. So, all the exchanges had to take place through the escape hatch in the bottom of the tanks.
This became a familiar sight on Kunishi Ridge: a buttoned-up tank lurching up to besieged Marine positions while replacements slithered out via the escape hatch carrying ammo, rations, water, and plasma. Then, other Marines crawled under the Shermans, dragging their wounded on ponchos—manhandling them through the small escape hatch. For those severely wounded, they had the unsavory privilege of riding down to safety lashed topside behind the turret. Tank drivers provided maximum protection to their exposed stretcher cases by backing down the entire 850-yard gauntlet. In this meticulous way, tankers delivered fifty fresh troops and evacuated thirty-five wounded men the day after the 7th Marines’ night assault.
General del Valle was pleased with these results and ordered Colonel Mason to execute a similar night assault in the 1st Marine sector of Kunishi Ridge. This mission went to the 2/1 Marines, who accomplished it on the night of June 13 despite careless lapses of illumination fire by forgetful supporting arms.
Furious Japanese swarmed out of their bunkers in a massive counterattack. Losses mounted quickly in Colonel Magee’s ranks. One company lost six of seven officers that morning, before the 1st Tank Battalion came to the rescue delivering reinforcements and evacuating 110 wounded Marines by nightfall.
General del Valle wrote: “The Japs were so damn surprised. They used to counterattack us at night all the time. I bet they never felt we’d have the audacity to go out and do it to them.”
During Colonel Yahara’s interrogation, he admitted the Marine night attacks effectively caught his troops off-guard—psychologically and physically.
By June 15, the 1st Marines had been fighting for twelve straight days: sustaining 500 casualties. The 5th Marines replaced them with an elaborate nighttime relief on June 15. The 1st Marines, back in the safety of division reserve, received their newest orders: If not otherwise occupied, you will bury Japs in your area.
The battle for Kunishi Ridge raged. PFC Sledge approached the embattled escarpment with dread. He later wrote: “That crest looked so much like Bloody Nose that my knees nearly buckled. I felt like I was back on Peleliu and had to go through that hell all over again.” The fighting along that crest and its slopes took place at point-blank range—even for Sledge’s 60mm mortars. His crew then became stretcher-bearers in this highly hazardous duty. Half of his company was wounded within the next twenty-two hours.
Getting wounded Marines off Kunishi Ridge was no easy task. The seriously wounded needed to endure another half day of evacuation by field ambulance over bad roads and enemy fire. Then, pilots stepped in with a great idea. Engineers cleared a rough landing strip suitable for “Grasshopper” observation aircraft. Corpsmen hustled to deliver casualties from Kunishi and Hill 69 to the crude airfield. They were gently loaded into waiting “Piper Cubs” and flown back to the field hospitals in the rear—an eight-minute flight. This was the dawn of tactical medevacs, which saved so many lives in the subsequent Asian wars. Marine pilots flew out 640 casualties in eleven days: saving countless lives.
The 6th Marine Division joined the southern battlefield after securing the Oroku Peninsula. The 32nd Infantry Regiment died a hard death after the combined forces of III Amphibious Corps swept north and overlapped Mezado Ridge and could smell the sea along the south coast. In Ira Saki, Marines from Company G (2/22) raised the 6th Division’s colors on the island’s southernmost point.
The long-neglected 2nd Marine Division finally got into the fight in the closing week of the campaign. Colonel Clarence Wallace and his 8th Marines arrived from Saipan to capture the two outlying islands—Aguni Shima and Iheya Shima—this would give the fleet more early warning radar sites against kamikaze raids. Colonel Wallace commanded a considerable force (essentially a brigade), including the 2/10 Marines and the 2nd Amphibian Tractor Battalion. General Geiger assigned the 8th Marines to the 1st Division, and on June 18, they relieved the 7th Marines and swept southeast with ferocity.
PFC Sledge recalled the arrival of the 8th Marines: “We scrutinized these Marines with the hard professional stare of old salts sizing up another outfit. Everything we saw brought forth remarks of approval.”
General Buckner was interested in observing the 8th Marines’ first combat deployment. Earlier, he’d been impressed with Colonel Wallace’s outfit during an inspection visit to Saipan. Buckner went to a forward observation post on June 18 to watch the 8th Marines advance along the valley floor. Enemy gunners on the opposite ridge saw the official party and opened up. A shell struck a close coral outcrop and drove a lethal splinter into the general’s chest. Buckner died in ten minutes. One of the few senior American officers killed in action in World War II.
General Geiger assumed command. His third star became effective immediately. The Tenth Army was in capable hands. Geiger became the only Marine—and the only pilot of any service—to command a field army. The Okinawan soldiers had no qualms about this. Senior Army echelons elsewhere did. Army General Joseph Stillwell received urgent orders to Okinawa. Five days later, he relieved Geiger. But by then, the battle was over.
When news of General Buckner’s death reached the Thirty-second Army headquarters in its cliff-side cave near Mabuni—the enemy officers cheered—but General Ushijima remained silent. He respected Buckner’s military ancestry and appreciated that they’d both once commanded their respective service academies: Buckner at West Point and Ushijima at Zama.
Ushijima knew his end was approaching fast. The 7th and 96th Divisions were nearly on top of Japanese command. On June 21, General Ushijima ordered his men to “save themselves so they could tell the story to Army headquarters.” Then he committed Seppuku. Ushijima plunged his Tantō (short knife) into his belly, drawing the blade from left to right before Colonel Yahara shot him in the back of the head—Ushijima collapsed into a pool of his own blood.
General Geiger declared the end of organized resistance on Okinawa the same day. True to form, a final kamikaze attack struck the fleet that night, and sharp fighting broke out on the 22nd. Undeterred, General Geiger ordered the 2nd Marine Aircraft Wing in action and ran up the American flag at Tenth Army headquarters.
The long battle was finally over.
Senior Commanders
Marine commanders on Okinawa were well-versed and seasoned combat veterans of joint service operations. These qualities contributed to the ultimate victory of the US Tenth Army.
General Roy Geiger was a 60-year-old native of Middleburg, Florida. He graduated from Florida State and Stetson University law schools before commanding III Amphibious Corps. He enlisted in the Marines in 1907 and became a naval aviator (the fifth Marine ever) in 1917.
Geiger flew combat missions in World War I France and commanded a squadron of the Northern Bombing Group. In 1942 on Guadalcanal, he commanded the 1st Marine Aircraft Wing. The following year, he took command of the 1st Marine Amphibious Corps on Bougainville for the invasion of Guam and the Palaus.
Geiger knew combat. Even on Okinawa, he made frequent visits to the front lines of combat outposts. On two separate occasions, he “appropria
ted” an observation plane to fly over the battlefield for his own personal reconnaissance.
After the death of General Buckner, Geiger took command of the Tenth Army and was immediately promoted to lieutenant general. Geiger also relieved General Holland Smith as commanding general of the Fleet Marine Force Pacific. Geiger was one of the few Marines invited to attend the Tokyo Bay Japanese surrender ceremony on the USS Missouri, September 2, 1945.
Geiger was an observer at the 1946 atomic bomb tests at Bikini Lagoon. His solemn evaluation of the vulnerability of future surface ship-to-shore assaults of atomic munitions spurred the Marine Corps to develop the transport helicopter. General Geiger died from lung cancer in 1947.
General Pedro del Valle commanded the 1st Marine Division. He was a 51-year-old native of San Juan, Puerto Rico. In 1915 he graduated from the Naval Academy. He commanded a Marine detachment on board the battleship Texas in the North Atlantic during World War I.
Years of expeditionary campaigns and sea duty in the Caribbean and Central America gave del Valle a vision of how Marines could better serve the Navy and their country at war. In 1931, General Randolph Berkeley appointed del Valle (then a major) to the “Landing Operations Board” in Quantico. This was the first organizational step taken by the Marine Corps to develop a working doctrine for amphibious assaults.
In February 1932, he published a provocative essay about ship to shore amphibious operations in the Marine Corps Gazette. He challenged his fellow officers to think seriously of executing an opposed landing.
