This second night found all companies closely tied in, though on our left flank heavy fire had prevented the adjacent regiment from completely securing its assigned sector of high ground. Just at dust an abortive attempt was made to eliminate a harassing pillbox. The attempt produced additional dead and wounded and there remained insufficient time to evacuate the wounded. This situation, in addition to growing reports about infiltration, confirmed fears that our worst night was imminent. Furthermore the absence of enemy artillery indicated that we might expect the more silent but equally deadly variety of night activity - infiltration.
Japs, both military and civilian, had been bypassed in caves, for we had yet to learn the necessity and importance of double-checking all caves. After dark they soon issued out and began wandering and circling in all directions. A platoon from the Regimental Weapons Company which furnished the connecting link between the front line and the battalion C.P. was forced back into the C.P. for lack of flank support.
Losses mounted throughout the night, yet evacuation was impossible as any carrying party would have suffered itself without accomplishment of the mission.But our wire communication remained operative as on the previous night, thus preserving some measure of control and allowing a fair estimate of the situation. Communications are essential and our men and equipment proved completely dependable throughout.
Northward in the Second Marine Division territory, a large ammunition dump flared up with a roar and flash, and some of their machine guns chattered from 0430 until dawn. But we could do naught but listen to our own bursts of fire and occasional cries, and wait for dawn and a chance to move out the wounded.
As anticipated it had proved our worst night, and the better part of the morning of "D" plus two was required for reorganization.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
The Japanese goals were, in the words of historian Carl Hoffman, "modest." Japanese communications had been heavily damaged in the fighting, and a radio station 400 yards behind the 6th Marines line was a tempting target - and a reasonable one; it was an easily identified structure, and nearly halfway to the beach. This attack was notable because the Japanese employed their tanks in almost unheard-of strength. Forty four metal behemoths clanked towards the Marine lines at 0330. The attack was undone, however, by the poor communications and confusing orders; moreover, the Marines had been alerted to the presence of tanks and requested all the bazookas they could for the front lines.
Japanese tanks did not enjoy the technological advancements of the Panzers belonging to their allies in Europe. Most of the tanks bearing down on the 6th Marines were the Type 95 Ha-Go light tank. These tanks had been adopted in 1935, and despite several monumental failings became the main Japanese battle tank. The Type 95 was thinly armored (6mm - 12mm) and lightly armed (a 37mm gun in the front turret, and two Type 97 machine guns - one in the hull and one mounted in the rear of the turret - this was ostensibly to offset the fact that the turret could rotate only 45 degrees). The crew of three - driver, machine gunner/mechanic, and commander/main gunner/loader - were at the mercy of weapons larger than rifle caliber, which could often penetrate any part of the tank; it was not uncommon for infantry armed with small arms to aim for the engine compartment and disable a Type 95. The tanks lacked radio communication, and the responsibilities of the commander - who occupied the turret alone, controlling the tank's movements, loading and firing the main gun, and attending to the rear machine gun - meant that he could do none of these tasks to their full ability.
The Type 97 Chi-Ha, a "medium" tank, was a more recent and slightly larger vehicle. 33mm armor and a 57mm main gun made a more formidable tank, but one that was still hopelessly outclassed by the American medium tank, the M4 Sherman. The Chi-Ha had been designed to face the American light M3, which had been mostly replaced by the Sherman by 1944.
Forty four such machines, though, were considered enough to break through the Marines, and they charged into the dark, each carrying five or six infantrymen.
Communications were so poor that the attack was doomed from the start. Some tanks got lost and wandered into swampy ground where they were abandoned; others stopped short of the American lines to let their infantry disembark, and others raced blindly forward. The Marines, who had no idea of the magnitude of the force approaching them, stayed in place. Bazooka teams crept out of their holes and fired rockets into the advancing tanks, turning them into metal infernos. Flares from the American fleet illuminated charging infantry and tanks, and the blazing tanks cast a flickering light over the battlefield. By dawn, 31 of the 44 tanks sat inert and abandoned in front of the Marine lines.
Type 95 Ha-Go on the morning of June 17. This one ran afoul of a Sherman.
A Type 97 Chi-Ha destroyed the same night.
At 0330 on the 17th, Captain C. G. Rollen, commanding B Company, called the battalion CP to notify Colonel Jones that enemy tanks and troops could be heard approaching from the hill and valley to their direct front. Rollen requested more illumination. All hands were alerted, regiment was notified, a nearby medium tank company was told to man their guns, and Naval gunfire was directed to keep the sector constantly illuminated and to get a reserve ship on station.
All prepared concentrations were called down in front of the forward companies, including 75mm pack howitzer, 81mm mortar and the companies' own weapons. At 0345, the first wave of tanks began to enter the B Company sector. Their squeak and rattle could be distinguished above the shell fire and long bursts of machine gun fire as far back as the regimental command post. . . . The battle evolved itself into a madhouse of noise, tracers and flashing lights. As tanks were hit and set afire, they silhouetted other tanks coming out of the flickering shadows to the front or already on top of the squads.
Many of the tanks were 'unbuttoned', [turrets open] the crew chief directing from the top of his open turret. Some were being led by a crew member afoot. They seemed to come in two waves, carrying foot troops on the long engine compartment or clustered around the turret, holding on to the hand rail. Some even had machine guns or grenade throwers set up on the tank. The bulk of the infantry followed what appeared to be the second wave of tanks, but as they came under the fire of B Company's heavy machine guns, four of which were in the line of forward combat groups, the infantry tried to mount the tanks. Those following afoot were badly cut up.
This stunning defeat was made more devastating by the fact that none of the lost Japanese tanks could be replaced. Japanese armor on Saipan would not be deployed in such strength again.
The Japanese tanks . . . appeared confused. As their guides and crew chiefs were hit by Marine rifle and machine gun fire, what little control they had was lost. They ambled on in the general direction of the beach, getting hit again and again until each one burst into flame or turned in aimless circles only to stop dead, stalled in its own ruts or the marshes of the low ground. Some kept their turrets in action, doing damage until dawn when the weapons Company's 75 mm half tracks entered the fray and quickly silenced any signs of life.
Fortunately, B Company's 'bazooka' teams had been put in the main line of resistance with the forward platoons for that night. These teams, with one team that came over from A Company, did outstanding work and verified the 'bazooka' as a superior 'tank buster.' The 37mm section attached to B Company had positions on each side of the road that entered the center of the company sector. In addition to the two guns, this section had one light machine gun, two 'bazookas,' and two anti-tank grenade dischargers. The right gun jammed but the squad held its position with the 'bazooka' and other weapons.
Both I and K Companies of the Third Battalion [K Company had been attached to the 1st Battalion, 6th] had been alerted and by 0400 Captain Bruce Coburn had been ordered to take his K Company forward and pass through B Company in order that the latter might reorganize. K Company eventually came into position between B Company and F Company, Second Marines, under Captain W. Morris, whose left units were also involved in hitting several tanks. There they took part in the last stages of the battle. Men from K Company hit and helped destroy at least seven tanks. By 0600 they were actually able to effect the relief of B Company.
Regiment had alerted the Special Weapons Company's half tracks at the first warning and by 0415 they were underway from their position near the regimental CP. They had rough, slow going over soft ground and several lines of irrigation ditches. As dawn broke and the tanks that were not already burning were disclosed, the 75mm guns made short work of them.
By 0700 the field was quiet except for the small arms fire of a few Nip snipers and the answers of the Marines who mopped them up. . . . The last Jap tank was spotted as it climbed the winding road to Hill 790. Its turret could be seen among a small group of buildings on top of the hill. The Naval Gunfire officer quickly adjusted and fired twenty salvos on this target. The tank sent up an oily smoke and burned the rest of the day.
- Major James Donovan, 1/6, quoted in Carl Hoffman's USMC Monograph Saipan: The Beginning of the End.
Taking stock at that time, the physical condition of the men was poor. Despite shipboard exercise, the physical exertion, nervous tension, lack of sleep, food, and water, and the effect of numerous casualties all combined to drain away strength and seriously lessen their combat efficiency. I do not believe that we sank lower at any time during the campaign.
That night was the enemy's last real chance for turning us back into the ocean. Our physical condition I have mentioned, and the land we held was scarcely more than a mile in depth anywhere on the front.The 24th Marines resumed their advance; 3/24 went to division reserve and were replaced on the line by the 165th Infantry, who had arrived on the island the night before. 1/24 advanced in support of units attacking the airfield, and came under fire from Japanese antiaircraft weapons firing at ground level from Nafutan Point. After a brief artillery barrage, 1/24 attacked towards the O-2 line, and dug in at the top of their objective at 1630.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24 "Saipan Under Fire"
Captain Stott, as a member of Regimental staff and a liaison officer, had the unique opportunity to view the progress of the battle from a variety of positions, from the regiment's Command Post to the front lines to the observers position on a tank. Understandably busy in these first few chaotic days, his narrative is at its least clear when describing the action through D+4. [I have included excerpts where I think they occurred, though it is possible that the events actually took place a day before or a day after; although in this excerpt he mentions advancing on the airstrip.]
We had been fighting uphill and against observation for more than forty-eight hours. But the local commanding ground was now in our hands, and the Japanese, having expended all available strength concentrated in the area, had retired most of their remaining troops to the slopes of Mt. Tapotchau and to the rocky ledges and woods of Nafutan Point. For the present our way led downhill over gently sloping, cane-covered fields.
Although the opposition was scattered, consisting of small isolated strongpoints, and the artillery was practically non-existent (the capture of the first ridge accounted for the nearby pieces which had cost us so dearly) a coordinated forward movement had not developed by noon.
Higher commands continually ordered attacks, but the execution was piecemeal in pattern. Lt. Col. Brunelli (who joined us from regiment to replace Lt. Col. Schultz), Mundy, Webster and I alternated in going forward to survey the situation, and gradually we evolved a plan for all available tanks (under Major Neiman) and amphibious tanks (led by Capt. Straub of the Army) to advance approximately a mile and a half across even terrain, with the infantry following in close support. (These amphibious tanks, designed for operations in the water, performed brilliantly in ground missions in the early stages of the conflict when material losses deprived us of sufficient mechanized strength). Meanwhile Major Broome's Regimental Weapons Company was to furnish the overhead support against the distant high ground.
I climbed into Major Neiman's tank to act as liaison between the armor and the foot troops, and we started forward in the early afternoon. The appearance of a dozen tanks seemed to rejuvenate the long lines of weary men who followed behind a heavy blanket of fire which searched out all possible caves and defensive installations. Behind this curtain the lines swept forward with slight loss, one regiment cutting across the northern edge of Aslito Airfield, until less than a mile from the scrub-covered shore of Magicienne Bay.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24 "Saipan Under Fire"
2/24 had a tougher day and was unable to reach the ridge with 1/24, held up several hundred yards to the rear by strong opposition. The executive officer of the 24th Marines, Lt. Colonel Austin Brunelli, had accompanied 1/24 through the day's attack, and was ordered to remain with the battalion to coordinate the defense. Major Fricke, who held command for just a few days, reverted back to battalion executive officer.
We still had to work all the kinks out of preparations for night, and dusk found the three rifle companies in an uneven line extending out into Jap territory, with "B" company on the far end. Moreover supplies were experiencing difficulty in maintaining pace with the afternoon's rapid advance, and they were arriving in driblets only, when the sun went down. This limited time for digging-in resulted in casualties, mainly in the "B" Company sector at the outer edge of the line. And again we sounded our most ardent plea as attacking infantry - "that we be allowed sufficient tune at the day's end to establish positions securely, and to feed and water all hands before darkness should make it an impossibility." Such tactical forethought is not always possible, but more attention should be paid to it by the higher echelons, for it is vital in successful defense against night infiltration and attack. After the initial fury of the landing, the Jap is most dangerous in the dark, and this danger can be eliminated by the daily provision of sufficient time.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24 "Saipan Under Fire"
Killed:
Sergeant Frank Allen Tucker. Hugo, OK. Age 30. Machine gun/bullet wounds, right side.
PFC Robert W. Vail, Jr.
Wounded:
PFC Ernest M. Jeffrey
PFC Verner A. Lilja
PFC Robert M. Walter
Private Andrew Loban
Private Kenneth S. Wilson
Total: 7
RETURNED:
PFC Lionel Perez Salazar
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