RCT 24 continued mopping up operations in its zone of responsibility. This mission was a very difficult one, being complicated by an intermingling of civilians with fanatical Japanese soldiers who were using them for shields. The civilians and soldiers were hiding in caves in cliffs which dropped sheer to the sea. The caves were almost inaccessible. Interpreters using loud-speakers made every possible effort to entice the remants [sic] of the soldiers and civilians to surrender, but their stubborness[sic] made the process slow and arduous.
- RCT 24 Official Report
After the island was declared secure, efforts to peacefully entice Japanese soldiers and civilians to surrender increased. Interpreters and POWs armed with loudspeakers broadcast to the caves that they were being well treated by the Americans. Several leading citizens pleaded with their hidden compatriots to come out.
The effort was, in most cases, futile. Civilians had been so thoroughly convinced that the Marines would rape, torture, and kill them that they would not listen to the loudspeakers. Japanese soldiers, hidden in the caves along with the civilians, encouraged them to commit suicide rather than surrender, and it was here that "the crowning horror" - in Major Hoffman's words - occurred.
It is impossible to paint an appropriate verbal picture of the sight of the suicides that marked the end of so many Japanese civilians on Saipan. Various accounts speak of children in miniature military uniforms shrilling "Tenno heika! Banzai!" and jumping off the cliff, followed by their parents; others of soldiers encouraging children to play a perverse form of hot-potato with live grenades, or of American patrol vessels that couldn't approach the shore because their propellers became literally jammed with human flesh.
By now all the important sections of Saipan were in American hands and undergoing extensive renovations. Both airports, especially Aslito, were bustling under their new management, and much of our direct support from the air was Aslito-based. The ruins of Charan-Kanoa, Garapan, and Tanapag no longer concealed Jap snipers, while the anchorages off Charan-Kanoa and Tanapag were choked with United States shipping and seaplanes. Yet possibly the most dramatic moment was to unfold on the day following the "official conquest."
From Marpi Airport the land shelves off gradually to the point. And some four hundred yards short of the point the shelving is interrupted by a 30-foot cliff line. From the airfield to the cliff the opposition was negligible, and we arrived at this drop well before noon. Reconnaissance patrols pushed down the only passable routes, encountered signs of numerous mixed Japanese personnel, and the battalion remained atop the cliffs while other units swept eastward along the bottom level, driving many civilians and some soldiers out onto the open rocks at the extreme tip.
It was a shooting gallery at four hundred yards as our best marksmen sighted in on designated targets. Such targets were invariably military personnel, and the shooting ceased whenever the military and civilians intermingled. Interpreters were summoned, and they pleaded by amplifier for the civilians to come forward in surrender. No movement followed, although in response to questioning, hand-waving indicated that the plea was heard and understood.
Almost imperceptibly a psychological reation seemed to emerge, and the people drew closer together into a compact mass. It was still predominantly civilian, but several in uniform could be distinguished circling about in the through using the civilians for protection. As they huddled closer sounds of a weird singing chant carried up to us. Suddenly a waving flag of the Rising Sun was unfurled. Movement grew more agitated, men started leaping into the sea, and the chanting gave way to startled cries, and with them the popping sound of detonating grenades. It was the handful of soldiers, determined to prevent the surrender or escape of their kinfolks, who tossed grenades into the milling throng of men, women, and children.
The exploding grenades cut up the mob into patches of dead, dying, and wounded, and for the first time we actually saw water that ran red with human blood.
Having killed or dispersed this first gathering, the remaining soldiers waited under cover until another similar group had collected. Again our pleas went unheeded, and again came the chanting, flag waving, the bursting grenades, and the dead and dying.
These were two of the oft-described Marpi Point mass suicides, and reports from coastal patrol craft indicated that these were not the only two such killings. The motivation behind these suicides is hard to analyze. Perhaps it was the frozen fear of a cornered helpless animal, terror-ridden and dominated by a handful of fanatical survivors determined to allow no escape. Surely it was a different reaction from that we had encountered elsewhere on the island. But whatever the reason, the sight was diabolically gruesome, and to some nauseating.
- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."
Al Perry was there, with his friend Paul Scanelon, and wrote about his experiences on his site, which is a must-read.
The ever present film crews recorded the image of a mother holding a child, running along the edge of one of the cliffs, apparently trying to make up her mind. The camera follows as she decides and gingerly edges towards the precipice, leaping over and disappearing from view.
This spectacle would haunt those who saw it for the rest of their lives.
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