Nervous Marines checked and rechecked their equipment, blood singing through their ears. Some had seen combat before; some were new replacements with no idea what to expect when their turn came to hit the beach. Some perhaps tried to catch a few moments of sleep, knowing that if they lived to see the next night, there would be little opportunity to rest.
At 0200, the assault troops lined up to receive what was fast becoming an unwelcome trademark: a pre-invasion breakfast of steak and eggs. At any other time, the deviation from the normal ship's fare would have been welcomed with cheers, but with the hours ticking down to H-Hour, the special breakfast felt more like the last meal of condemned men.
By 0400, the frogmen had returned and made their reports. The news of unmined, cleared waters ahead was a relief to the planners of the invasion, yet it was noticed that several flags had appeared flapping above the water. The Japanese troops had set these out at intervals to provide ranging targets for their artillery - a grim sight on what was already predicted to be a rough landing.
LSTs continued to shift into position, and by 0525, the first assault waves had embarked on their tiny landing craft. In the growing light, Saipan itself could be seen looming in the distance like a gray ghost. Company A would not be in the first wave. Their regiment, along with all of the 2nd Marines and 1/29, would form a diversionary force several miles from the beaches, hopefully diverting Japanese attention from the real landings.
As the sun rose, so too did the voices of the naval guns. Marines in Amphtracks and LCTs grimaced and swore as the huge shells thundered inland. Eventually, the ships lifted their range, and Saipan was treated to thirty minutes of concentrated bombing and strafing from the carrier aircraft.
The clock ticked ever closer to 0830, H-Hour. A delay of ten minutes was ordered after several assault boats failed to get into position on time.
0800 - 0900
The starting line for the assault craft was some 4,000 yards from the beach - a considerable distance to cross in a small boat, and one that was being criscrossed by shellfire and other support ships. It was expected that the trip would take twenty seven minutes from the line to the beachhead, and just after 0800 the first wave of assault boats began churning ashore. These were equipped with rockets and slightly heavy cannon, and would provide the last close in support before the Marines hit the beach.
Someone noticed that it was 0812 when the flags signaled the go-ahead for the Marines. Their amphibious tanks took off at full speed for the smoky, burning shoreline. For the next half hour they were trapped in a sort of limbo between safety and the beach. Huge shells from the fleet roared overhead, sounding to more than one like so many freight trains passing by.
A force of 72 Hellcat fighters swooped in right over the heads of the amphtracks, shooting up the beach and dropping hot shell casings onto the men in the boats below. Japanse artillery began to open up on the amphtracks; those in following waves suffered several losses as gunners got the range. Thirty one of sixty eight armored vehicles were smashed to wrecks in the 2nd Division's sector alone.
At 0844, the first Marines went ashore on Saipan. The 6th and 8th Marines of the 2nd Division hit the northern beaches, while the 23rd and 25th Marines of the 4th Division landed to their south. Originally, the amphtracks were supposed to carry the Marines a few thousand yards inland - this, it was supposed, would enable them to establish a deep beachhead right away. However, the Americans were finding that there had been flaws with the pre-invasion bombardment, and their vehicles began to explode with disturbing regularity. As a result, most Marines suddenly decided they felt more comfortable walking, and piled out. Momentum was already starting to lag, and the troops were under serious artillery fire.Meanwhile, the diversionary force completed its maneuver and withdrew back to the main fleet.
"D" day found our regiment in division reserve conducting a diversionary feint to camouflage the main landing effort. As such we had received many reports as to the progress ashore before entering the landing craft. These reports indicated that progress was excellent, and briefly the thought flashed that possibly we might miss out on the fight. We had experienced the same thought on Namur, and with far more justification. Hence this time it was quickly dispelled.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
They had not completely fooled the Japanese, but had tied up one infantry regiment left by the Imperial Army as a precaution. The men of the diversion force were to go in as reinforcements later in the day.
Within 20 minutes, an astonishing 8,000 Americans were ashore and fighting for their lives.
0900 - 1100
Confusion reigned on the beach.
Marine officers were hit by artillery and scattered small-arms fire. Men watched helplessly as friends and comrades were pierced by flying shell splinters or simply disappeared in explosions. The wounded, who could not yet be evacuated, lay where they fell or where they had been dragged, hoping they would not be hit again. A strong northerly current carried many Marines completely into the wrong landing zones. Amphtracks and tanks were hit, the line bulged in areas and constricted in others as Marines fought their way towards the tractor organization line 500 yards inland. In a scene with ugly overtones of Tarawa, 1/25 was fought to a standstill only 12 yards from the water.
The 23rd fared somewhat better, and moved through Charan Kanoa virtually unopposed. Upon hitting the far outskirts of town, though, they came under severe artillery fire and were brought up short.
Fighting continued up and down the front as the battle ebbed and flowed around the living, the bleeding, the dying, and the dead.
1100 - 1700
The 24th Marines, still waiting aboard their transports, finally received word to land on the beaches.
...in the space of a moment the loud-speaker called out "lay below for debarkation"; "prepare for debarkation"; and "commence debarkation." We crammed sandwiches into pockets, grabbed our gear, and began clambering down into the small boats which were soon circling endlessly awaiting orders as to where and when to land.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
Colonel Franklin Hart put his troops into motion, but the organization took time - all the men listening in dismay to the sounds of the pitched battle just a short distance across the
water. There was a shortage of amphtracks; whether due to administrative problems or losses in battle is unclear, but the 24th found they would be going ashore in landing craft instead of the armored vehicles. This meant a detour through the Charan Kanoa channel before debarking and racing to a rally point some 400 yards south of the town. Although a railroad embankment offered some cover, the Marines were very exposed, and the Japanese were quick to take advantage.
Four tedious hours of pitching and rocking passed before we were ordered ashore. Drawing closer, the ruins of Charan-Kanoa gave ample evidence of the destructive power of the aerial and naval gunfire preparations. And we also saw numerous splashes along the beach line and six hundred yards out on the reef which we were soon to cut. For some unknown reason, probably a lack of familiarity, we did not identify the splashes as enemy artillery and mortars. The overwhelming effectiveness of the bombs and shells on Roi-Namur unconsciously influenced us to discount the possibility of much artillery opposition.
Miraculously the shelling ceased as we neared shore, and all landed safely, many without wetting their feet. Then, oblivious to what might occur, we formed up in a series of semi-massed companies, found all men present, and commenced to move off to our designated assembly area. In movement we deployed, finally ending our high target priority.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
So we landed and started to move in. I can't recall that my battalion's landing was rugged, but it didn't take the Japanese artillery very long to open up. This meant that while we moved in, the beach area could be just as dangerous as the front lines.
- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."
3/24 suffered most heavily on the way in. Two of their landing craft overturned, causing heavy casualties before they even came ashore. Once there, Lt. John Chapin saw the effects of the Japanese artillery as well:
All around us was the chaotic debris of bitter combat: Jap and marine bodies lying in mangled and grotesque positions; blasted and burnt-out pillboxes; the burning wrecks of LVTs that had been knocked out by Jap high velocity fire; the acrid smell of high explosives; the shattered trees; and the churned-up sand littered with discarded equipment....
Suddenly, WHAM! A shell hit right on top of us! I was too surprised to think, but instinctively all of us hit the deck and began to spread out. Then the shells really began to pour down on us: ahead, behind, on both sides, and right in our midst. They would come rocketing down with a freight-train roar and then explode with a deafening cataclysm that is beyond description. It finally dawned on me that the first shell bursts we'd heard had been ranging shots, and now that the Japs were "zeroed in" on us, we were caught in a full-fledged barrage. The fire was hitting us with pin-point accuracy, and it was not hard to see why--towering 1500 feet above us was Mt. Tapotchau, with Jap observation posts honeycombing its crest.
- 1st Lt. John C. Chapin, Breaching the Marianas: The Battle for Saipan
It was still another maneuver as we travelled the initial quarter of a mile through scrubby vegetation on sandy soil which afforded fair cover and concealment. Naturally the actual ground appeared differently than it had in the aerial photographs and on the maps, and we were experiencing difficulty in locating our assembly area - assigned on the map. Suddenly came the realization that it was again battle, and that this time our supporting ships and planes were not overwhelming.One of the Able Company Marines who felt the effects of Japanese artillery was George Smith, a machine gunner in the Weapons Platoon. As the company organized and moved out down a nearby road, George noticed an abandoned hibachi grill in a ditch. Always one for a joke, George quipped "Looks like someone was making dinner-" and was interrupted by incoming artillery. The next thing he knew, he was crawling towards a small building. He noticed a pen with a scared-looking goat, and recognized his friend Gene Walsh hiding on the other side. Walsh called him over, and George headed for safety. They had a brief debate as to whether or not they should try milking the goat - only half in jest - before concluding that it was "the wrong kind of goat." George soon recovered, and set out to find the rest of the platoon, who by this time had advanced a considerable distance - from this he concluded that he had been insensible for quite some time. When he rejoined his comrades, David Spohn half-joked "We thought you were dead, so we left you behind."
We had started across a stretch of open field when a missile whizzed by at terrific speed and exploded a couple of hundred yards away. It was our first introduction to unfriendly artillery, and we were to have a couple of days in which to become well acquainted. (Friendly artillery has the same sound, but a different destination.) After some ten minutes tie fire ceased, and by detouring we managed to pass the area with light casualties, but we now realized that our position was down on the flats with the Japs in the hills, and looking down with more than small arms.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
By 1700, 1/24 had landed and established itself.
Ground features do not always jibe with the map representations, but prior to darkness we reached our appointed area, and fortunately found that industrious Jap labor had constructed some deep and excellent fire trenches which served our purposes better than they had the diggers.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
A Company was sent to the far right flank, to maintain the connection between 2/23 and 2/25; B Company followed them and it was there that they would dig in for the night.
1700 - 2359
Night clamped down before we were well organized, and without a real orientation as to the situation in that sector. And with the darkness came a series of artillery barrages which far exceeded anything experienced or expected. As our familiarity with shelling increased, fear correspondingly declined, but had it not been for the trenches the casualties would have been very heavy, and they were plentiful regardless!
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
The American beachhead at nightfall on the 15th was tenuous - downright weak in some places - and while some units had made their O-1 objective, others had been stopped in their tracks.
All told, the five and a half regiments that had landed - half of the 2nd Marines were returned to their troopship when bad weather blew in, but their other half plus the 6th, 8th, 23rd, 24th, and 25th were ashore - nearly 2,000 had been hit badly enough to warrant medical attention. It is estimated that many smaller wounds simply went unreported, so the total number of men hit on D-Day will likely never be known. The first casualties returned to ship around 1040 AM and appeared in a steady stream, offloaded from the shuttling LVTs like so much cargo. The overwhelming majority were hit by shell fragments; some had bullet wounds and a few sported the impact of a bayonet or saber. Amphtracks headed back the other way, loaded with supplies of food, water, and units of fire for the companies (a "unit of fire" is a ration of enough ammo for a group of weapons in a single day; for example, a rifleman with an M1 might be expected to fire off 128 rounds in a normal day, hence he would receive 16 clips of ammunition; this figure would be extrapolated for the rest of a company, making a unit of fire resemble a miniature ammunition dump).
As Able Company waited in their foxholes, few daring to sleep, the sight of star shells fired by the Navy cast an eerie glow over the landscape. Shouts and cries could be heard in the distance, gunfire echoed up and down the line as nervous sentries fired at nothing or at lone Japanese infiltrators. It would prove to be a long night, and the campaign had just begun.
Killed:
Sergeant Armond D. Leisure. Pomona, CA.
Corporal Carl Joseph Willenborg. Independence, IA. Age 20.
Wounded:
Corporal Lee R. Anderson, Jr.
PFC Lionel "Pappy" Salazar
PFC Richard C. McGinnis
PFC Hamilton T. Pendergast
Private Vern J. Neeson
Total: 7
USMC Photos are from the Hyperwar online edition of Carl Hoffman's "Saipan: The Beginning Of The End." Photo of landing craft is from www.piersystem.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment