Sergeant Arthur B. Ervin

One simply did not mess with Arthur Ervin.

Arthur Ervin, Junior was born April 16, 1922, in the small town of McCurtain, Oklahoma. His father died when his namesake was only six months old, leaving Arthur Junior and his brother Harley in the care of their mother.

Ervin was something of an enigmatic oddity in Company A. He traveled to Detroit, Texas and joined the Marine Corps on June 4, 1940, barely 18 years old. After completing basic training at the Recruit Depot in San Diego, Private Ervin found himself stationed in the subtropical paradise of Pearl Harbor. He served with Company B at the Marine Barracks, Pearl Harbor Navy Yard, through the end of the year.

Post-war court documents indicate that Ervin was present at Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. What role he might have played on the nation's most infamous day is unclear, but it seems to have cemented a burning resolve in the young man. Arthur Ervin's name appears on the muster rolls of the 2nd Raider Battalion, an "elite-within-the-elite" unit that appeared in early 1942 and was based on FDR's observations of British commando teams. Arthur Ervin served in Company C of this strictly volunteer, extremely tough and admittedly ruthless battalion. The same court documents point to service on Guadalcanal, which would almost certainly make him a veteran of Carlson's famous "Long March" - a 31-day fighting expedition behind enemy lines. The Raiders, completely cut off from outside reinforcements or supplies, harassed the Japanese army with a series of hit-and-run attacks that cost the Imperial Amy over 480 casualties, with the raiders losing just 16 dead.

Again, Ervin's record becomes blurry. After the Long Patrol (or possibly during it), he contracted elephantitis, a dramatic disease that apparently did little to curb his spirit. Indeed, while home on sick leave, he married Odena Gladys Good, whom he affectionately called "Neg."

With new developments in Marine Corps tactics, the Raider battalions were being phased out and reorganized. Ervin, returning from sick leave, somehow managed to end up in the 24th Marines, then training at Camp Pendleton, California. The 24th would benefit greatly from Ervin's combat experience, though his first mention by his platoon leader was somewhat less than complimentary:

And there won’t be enough furloughs to go around to let all the men get home again before we shove off – one squad leader has an incurable Samoan disease, a section leader is having his tonsils out, one man has chronic appendicitis, and another has bad flat feet and can’t march, another has a trick knee that was ruined on maneuvers.

- Phil Wood, letter dated November 2, 1943

[The "incurable Samoan disease" was Ervin's elephantitis - which lead to the nickname "Moo Moo," after the native term for the ailment - mumu.]

The next mention of Ervin, and indeed all further evidence, shows the true story of an exceptionally brave and selfless man.

Corporal Ervin – my ex-machine gun squad leader – up for the Navy Cross – is back from the hospital, and I nabbed him for my mortar section leader. A Hell of a good man – we work well together. And he’s squaring the section away in fine shape.

- Phil Wood letter, dated 31 March 1944

What had happened in the interval? The battle for Namur.

Corporal Ervin began to make a name for himself even before stepping off the assault boats in the early afternoon of February 1, 1944.

[P]rior to going to our boat stations we loaded up with a mouth full [of chewing tobacco]. You will understand why I told you this a little later. And as I had stated previously in combat each gun squad was assigned to a rifle platoon, my squad, along with Ervin, went in with the 1st platoon and without Phil. On the way in we passed off the starboard quarter of the new USS Washington just as she fired a full broadside. The wave she created hit us broadside and almost turned us over. Not only did we get wet, but some of us got a mouth full of water and of course the tobacco as well. For some unknown reason I decided to go with gum instead of the tobacco, Ervin stayed with the tobacco. As Phil stated, during the landing there was a tremendous explosion. But our boat was on the beach and the ramp going down when it went off. Beside being hit with concrete and steel from above a dense cloud of dust, cordite and body parts filled the boat. As I was to realize later I must have swallowed my gum at this time, Ervin did not. Some time later as we were moving up going from hole to hole for cover, Ervin being the Warrior he was decided to go straight up the road. In doing so he passed a hole with a live Jap and the Jap squeezed one off just as Ervin was even with him and the bullet traveled up his left side from his hip to his ear, not breaking the skin but leaving a burn mark here and there. Of course he killed the Jap but even as we ran to him and it was apparent he wasn't hurt hardly at all he just stood there, frozen, with this weird look on his face. Now this was one brave cat we are talking about, but there we stood in the middle of the road, four of us trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with him. Perhaps you guessed, he had swallowed his tobacco and was getting ready to throw up. And it was just about then that I discovered I didn't have gum in my mouth and realized I must have swallowed it when the block house blew.

- George Smith, personal recollection

As the other platoons of A Company landed and began their advance up the coast of the island, Ervin was a conspicuous figure.

I noticed Corporal Ervin – then my machine gun squad leader – now my mortar section leader, up ahead, waving us on. As long as he was in the action, he stayed at least 50 yards ahead of anybody else in the Company – I took a couple of the others and went up to help him. He had stumbled on a dugout containing 6 or 7 Japs, had fired at them standing on the edge – then thrown a grenade or two and come back for more....

Over our heads all Hell broke loose. My machine guns behind me started a duel with those in the blockhouse – pound after pound of lead went over, then a Jap knee mortar started pounding away, probing for our trench, but luckily never got it. During a lull in the fire fighting my runner crawled up to me, and Cpl. Ervin slipped out of the trench and went forward again. He came on a Jap machine gun nest beside the blockhouse, killed two of the men manning it, but was driven off when an officer knocked off his helmet with a round from his pistol. Ervin’s face was sprayed with bits of lead – he backed off, came back, and told us the situation – what was up there – where they were – I hopped out and went back to assign the target to my mortars – when I got there I found that a couple of the men had been wounded by the Jap knee mortars – but by the time we had set up, the forward elements of the company had moved up too close to the position to let us fire safely....

- Phil Wood letter, dated 2 April 1944

What happened next would be described in the terse wording of a Navy Cross citation.

Citation:
The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the Navy Cross to Arthur B. Ervin (285038), Corporal, U.S. Marine Corps, for extraordinary heroism and devotion to duty while serving with Company A, First Battalion, Twenty- Fourth Marines, FOURTH Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces during the invasion of Namur Island, Kwajalein Atoll, on 1 February 1944. Advancing with his company around the eastern perimeter of the Island, corporal Ervin skillfully located and led the attack upon each hostile strong point in this zone of action. Although wounded in a single-handed assault upon an enemy heavy machine-gun nest, he returned to initiate a raid into an occupied blockhouse and, after climbing to a dangerously exposed position on its top, immediately poured rifle fire into a near-by Japanese trench fortification and exhorted his comrades to press home their attack. When painfully wounded for the second time, he gallantly refused to let anyone endanger himself by coming forward to help and, after pulling himself to safety and having his wounds dressed, retired only on the orders of his Commanding Officer. His determined fighting spirit and inspiring performance of duty throughout these bitter engagements reflect the highest credit upon Corporal Ervin and the United States Naval Service.

From his vantage point nearby, Phil Wood described the scene:

We used bazookas on the blockhouse, and finally it was silenced; [1st Lt.] Harry [Reynolds], then Cpl. Ervin ran across the open and threw hand grenades into the firing ports – I picked up Ervin’s helmet to toss it to him, but it was knocked out of my hand by a sniper’s bullet. Ervin hopped up on top of the blockhouse, and stood there silhouetted against the sky – legs spread apart, hatless, with blood on his face and his coat flung open, firing his rifle from the hip into the dugout that lay in front of Sgt. [Frank A.] Tucker and myself – he killed some, but fire kept coming at him from the dugout, so he jumped down, ran to it, and was hit just as he got in front of me. Harry and I yelled to him – he said he didn’t want any help, and pulled himself out with his right arm – he was hit in the side – and Harry had to order him back to the hospital. Ervin claimed that he could still throw grenades with his one arm.

- Phil Wood letter, dated 2 April 1944

Corporal Ervin returned to Pearl Harbor, this time in the care of Naval medical personnel. His wound was serious, though luckily did not prove life-threatening. By mid April, he was back where he wanted to be - with his fellow Marines.

In a stirring ceremony in late April, 1944, Corporal Ervin was awarded the Navy Cross by none other than Admiral Nimitz.

Ervin told me after it was over that he almost burst into tears when they told him he was getting the Navy Cross – he meant it, and for a tough, hard-bitten little guy like that to feel that way.

- Phil Wood letter, dated 28 April 1944

Phil Wood was not the only one writing home:

April 29 1944
Hello Bud
I'm sorrow that I have not written to you long before this - Received your letter last nite (somewhat delayed) So will ans. right back. How are things going with you these days - Kay, holding you down - me - I couldn't be better as you probably know by this time I'm back to duty with my old company, certainly glad to get back with the guys again my side is O.K. now and I can do allmost everything I did before, It never bothers me in the least, Guess you know that it was close, Lavada wrote me a letter just before she went to Seattle, and I'm looking for the Chief out this way any day now, By just reading your letter over I can't tell wheather or not you like the idea of waiting so long, you got a break in a way, I got a letter from Mom every 4 or 5 days Speaking of Mother Bud I did change my insurance if anyone gets it Mom will get it all, I didn't change it because of what you said in your letter, I had allready for a couple reasons of my own, one I don't want 'Neg' ever to feel obligated to me, but I know that neither you or Kay would and never did lie to me So I want to ask you something but before I ask you I want to tell you how I feel about 'Neg.' Bud she is the only one for me but things are all the way oka not at all, know what I mean? Write me and tell me if things are not that way. I don't want to plan on something and things go haywire, Let me know, Bud I have some good news for you, Do you know what the "Navy Cross" is? I was awarded the "Navy Cross" by Admiral Nimitz last Wed. I am dam proud of it and Sending it home to Mother Wish you could have been here Bud to see me get it Wonder what H.L. will think? Kay I'll send you that hula skirt this time if I can find a good one, Gotta close now will be waiting for your ans. Love to you both
Your brother
Cpl. Arthur B. Ervin

Shortly thereafter, Arthur Ervin was promoted to Sergeant. A man named Henderson was bumped up to Corporal, possibly to take the vacant squad leader position, but either way, a celebration was in order.

Ervin made Sergeant last week, and Henderson, one of my Squad leaders, made Corporal at the same time – they had been waiting for it for a long time, so I gave the Section a beer party to celebrate. Rounded up ten cases of it – hard to get, as they are limited to two bottles a night at the slop chute – even had to steal two of the cases – got grills and hamburgers to cook out there – had it all taken out to a little spot in the boondocks – ice, cigars, pogie-bait and fruit – then broke them out in marching formation at 4 PM. They didn’t know anything about it, and grumbled about it, thinking they were going on a special working party – when we got there and they saw the spread, a great shout went up, and they fell on the food and beer. It was a great success, since everyone got potted – we even had to carry two of them home when it broke up about midnight. We talked and chatted and sang old songs around the fire – and one Squad put on an impromptu floor show, which, as I remember it, was very funny.

- Phil Wood letter, May 6 1944.

Sergeant Ervin, now Section Sergeant of the weapons platoon, grew closer to Lt. Wood, and the two of them worked astonishingly well together. After the F-series reorganization, Ervin apparently followed Phil and the mortar section to the company headquarters.

The two fought side by side on Saipan until July 5, 1944, when they volunteered to lead a patrol to rescue civilians caught between the lines.

Ervin was pretty much an individualist, not given to affection, and on first impression, not a top notch NCO. But the mutual admiration and respect which grew between the two was obvious, and they were a strongly attached pair who worked together as well as any and better than most. It was Sgt. Ervin who, when Phil lay fatally wounded in an exposed position, called out “Don’t worry, Phil, I’m coming for you!” And Ervin went down to be killed at Phil’s side by the same Jap gun.

- Lt. Frederic Stott, in a letter to Anna Margretta Wood, October 7, 1944.

The remains of Sergeant Arthur Ervin, Navy Cross, Bronze Star, and Purple Heart with Gold Star, were never recovered. Despite Captain Schechter's assurances that Ervin had been buried in the 4th Marine Division cemetery, official burial documents indicate differently; the stark sentence "Disposition: Unrecoverable" is sadly confirmed by his placement on the Tablets of the Missing at the Punchbowl Cemetery in Hawaii.

George Smith concluded his memory of Corporal Ervin's experience with the tobacco with a touching moment:

When we talked about this later, and never ever when somebody else was around, Ervin would actually laugh out loud and that would be the only time. In all the time we were together I never knew him to hardly smile, let alone laugh.