J+8

August 1, 1944

The front ranks of the two isolated battalions of the 2nd Division were straining to see into the dark ahead of them. Without close artillery support and in their hastily prepared position, backs to a precipitous cliff, they had little hope of withstanding a serious counterattack like the one experienced the night of the landing. Their present situation was disadvantageous enough, and one can only imagine their reaction when screams, shots, and flames appeared to their rear.

Over one hundred Japanese soldiers had appeared on the road. They destroyed two ambulance jeeps, established a roadblock, and began moving towards the top of the cliff. Around 0200, just as the moon set and the night became pitch black, a sizable force of infiltrators raced to the top of the cliff, captured any vehicles they could find, and charged towards the rear of 2/8. The Marines, concentrating forward, were not alerted to the charge until the Japanese were virtually in their foxholes with them, and a wild melee broke out. A quick-thinking major organized an impromptu counterattack that drove off the surviving Japanese, recaptured the vehicles, and established a roadblock of his own to hold against another attack. A reserve platoon spent a nerve-wracking few hours sweeping the area between the opposing roadblocks for straggling Japanese.

As the situation in the rear died down, nervous reports from E/2/8 indicated a mass of enemy troops gathering in the gloom. American artillery fired heavy concentrations at decreasing intervals starting around 0330, and continued up through 0500 - by this point, barrages were landing every two minutes.

The pressure kept mounting and at 0515 the Japanese launched forward with shrieks of "Banzai!" The Marines answered with curses of their own and repeated calls for flares. Mortars and ships instantly obliged, and night became day as the Japanese hit E Company. The fighting raged for half an hour, with Japanese bodies falling within feet of Marine foxholes - sometimes landing on top of the Marines themselves. The 37mm guns spat canister as their crews fell; the thin shields looking like Swiss cheese as bullets whicked through. Other Marines scrambled to take their place. When the Japanese withdrew, only two of the original ten crew were still on their feet.

As the last flares faded, dawn broke and the Marines counted over 100 corpses in an area 70 yards square. The surviving Japanese fled into the woods, and soon the rumble of tanks could be heard as the Shermans and Stuarts supporting the 2nd Division moved up the road. The line had been held.

Down on the 4th Division front the night had been quieter, and after a brief artillery preparation the 23rd and 24th Marines moved out again, following the pattern of the day before (tanks in the lead followed by infantry). Isolated Japanese still held out in caves and other natural positions, but there was nothing like the sharp fighting of the previous days. In the afternoon, the 24th encountered another odd terrain feature of southern Tinian: three distinct levels of ground forming large steps down to the sea. Each battalion of the regiment was assigned a separate level, with 1/24 along the coast on the lowest tier. Again, the amphibious tanks went swimming down the shoreline, blasting away at any unfriendly caves. Aside from the occasional rifle shot or grenade, the 24th moved rapidly down the coast, hit the southern tip of the island, and then turned to the east.

(Tank support of the 24th Marines can be seen on the flatlands; Marine above is likely a member of the 23rd whose area of operations featured significant changes in altitude).

By 1800, the 24th had reached their last objective, and it was clear that organized resistance was ending. The regiment reported taking in a large number of prisoners, mostly civilian, who had been hiding in caves as on Saipan.

Eventually, each regiment reached the O-8 line. Patrols reported "honeycombs" of caves in the cliffs along the edge of the island, the majority of which appeared to be angrily occupied, but there was no place for the Japanese to reorganize or mount another attack.

Tinian was officially declared secure at 1855 on August 1, 1944. The process of mopping up, however, had yet to begin.


Able Company Casualties, August 1, 1944
Killed
PFC Armand Louis Guyot. Age 19.

J+7

July 31, 1944

[NOTE: the interaction with Lt. Col. Lessing is included here because Captain Schechter's account places the incident as happening after A Company had been on Tinian for seven days. I haven't been able to locate any other sources on Lessing's subsequent removal from command, nor have I been able to pinpoint a day or action when A Company lost three killed all at once. Schechter is an accurate source for the most part, but it should be remembered that he was recalling these actions nearly forty years later, and by Tinian he had been commanding his company in a combat zone - if not directly on the front line - for about six weeks with little opportunity to rest. Given the movements of the Battalion, it's likely that the incident occurred either July 31, or possibly August 1 when the Battalion was engaged in mopping up exercises. Either way, it's a great example of an officer going out of his way to look out for the men under his command, and evidently Lessing remained in his position as Battalion commander until the end of the campaign.]

...we had been on the go for seven days, always facing some resistance. We hadn't had any food other than our regular combat rations. I should also point out that we had run into some heavy rain. In short, things were pretty miserable.

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."

Nobody liked the look of the cliff that lay ahead, nor did they relish the thought that every remaining Japanese soldier on the island was hidden on the cliff itself or on the wooded plateau.

Least among those was General Schmidt, who had thus far run a very successful campaign with minimal casualties. If he could, he aimed to keep it that way. Starting around midnight, the Marine artillery lobbed shell after shell into the escarpment, keeping a steady pace until near dawn. Shortly before 0600, the word was passed to all Marines to keep their heads down and cover up. Two battleships, a heavy cruiser, and two light cruisers sent their big projectiles howling over the crouched Marines and into the terrain to their front. The General needn't have worried about keeping the men down; as it turned out the ships fire control was so good (and the target large and stationary enough) that not a single shell fell short, and most impacted directly on target.

The ships pounded the cliff for seventy five minutes. Abruptly, the fire ceased, and in the stillness could be heard the droning of aircraft. One hundred and sixty nine planes - anything capable of carrying bombs, including several based at Aslito Airfield on Saipan - roared overhead and released 69 tons of high explosive, nearly all of which hit the target zone. Marines watched the aviators for forty minutes, as wave after wave made their attack runs. As the planes departed, the Navy started back up. Altogether, the ships sent nearly 615 tons of "outgoing mail" into the escarpment.

At 0830, the ships ceased fire, and now it was the Marines' turn to take the fight to the enemy.

I received a call from headquarters. I don't want to mention any names, but it was from a pretty high source who claimed he was interested in finding out how my men were.

"Just about done," I told him. "Perhaps it's time to pull them out."

"Oh, we're all shot," he answered. "Why, I have a slight touch of dysentery myself."

Oh, my God, I thought, he's back there on the beach with hot rations, coffee, the whole works and he has a slight case of the runs. Tough.

"Schechter," the ranking officer continued, "I have a bet with someone over in the 2nd Division that we will take Tinian before they do."

Now I was thunderstruck. How the hell could anyone make a bet like that, playing with other people's lives? But our orders were to keep going and we did.

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."

The 23rd and 24th Marines advanced abreast. 1/24 was on the far right flank, next to the ocean. To their right, amphibious tanks bobbed in the surf, ready to lend supporting fire. It would soon be needed, as the battalion ran into yet another well-hidden and strongly defended Japanese outpost. A platoon sized group of Japanese launched a spirited counterattack, and for a while the situation was bloody. Despite the relative ease of the campaign, the Americans were exhausted and under strength, and while a platoon of Japanese did not stand a chance at turning the tide of the battle, they could present a serious hazard.

I won't go into details, but a little later I received orders to go into an area that meant certain disaster. I complained to Colonel Lessing, who sympathized with me, and even tried to get a hold put on the orders but was unsuccessful.

I started to execute these orders, but the first three Marines in line were immediately killed. That was enough for me. I had the three bodies put in ponchos and sent word back that I just didn't have the clout to go any further.

Shortly after this Colonel Lessing showed up. He spotted the ponchos.

"Buck," he said, "what's this?"

"Colonel," I answered, "that's the bodies of the first three men who tried to move into the area I told you about. We just don't have to end up putting what's left of my company into ponchos because someone back on the beach is a nut."

So Colonel Lessing picked up the phone and called back to the beach. He was obviously asked how things were going where we were.

"Not so good," he said. "I'm staring at three Marines who are covered with ponchos because of that stupid order I tried to get changed. I hate waste."

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."

This action would eventually cost Lessing his command.

By 1100, the Japanese were all dead. One company of 1/24 was detached to perform mop-up duties, aided by several flamethrower tanks who dealt with hidden enemy riflemen by setting their cover on fire. (The ground on the right flank was composed mostly of coral outcroppings and thick underbrush, providing excellent concealment for the Japanese and making passage for tanks very difficult.)

3/24 encountered light resistance until 1600, when massed machine gun fire stopped them in their tracks. They called for armor support, but it was found that the area was heavily mined, and the tanks and halftracks could not proceed. It took the engineers 45 minutes to clear enough mines to allow for an advance, but by this point it was getting late in the day, and the Marines needed time to prepare their defenses for the evening - being so close to the end of the island, a counterattack was judged very likely - and the regiment halted for the day and dug in.

The 23rd ran into stiff opposition as well, including fire from a large caliber weapon (thought to be a 5-inch gun) that temporarily held up 1/23. There was little room to maneuver, and the gun wasn't visible, making the commitment of armor unwise. Riflemen, acting on their own volition and without orders, moved forward one at a time in short dashes, attempting to get close enough to locate the weapon. It was only when two of the supporting tanks received six rapid hits apiece (somehow, they were still operational) that the gun was spotted, smoke dropped, and the American tanks got their revenge on what turned out to be a 47mm antitank gun and 20 Japanese soldiers. 2/23 lost a tank in their zone of action, and while the crew was evacuated, enterprising Japanese got into the machine and began peppering the Marines from their new metal bunker. It was swiftly destroyed by other American tanks.

Although the advance had been smaller than those on previous days, some companies in the 4th Division had managed to climb to the top of the cliff, and were looking out at a broad, flat plateau. While they had certainly made a dent in the Japanese position, they were extremely vulnerable to counterattack; furthermore, nobody could locate the 2nd Division on the left.

The 2nd Division had made some attempts at scaling the sheer face of the cliff, but had been stopped either by hidden Japanese or by the terrain itself. Their only option appeared to be the road that switchbacked up the center of the escarpment. It stood to reason that the Japanese knew this, too, and withering fire was poured on the Marines as they struggled up the slope. First one platoon, then another gained the summit, though, and it was decided to risk reinforcing their position with little more than an hour of daylight remaining.

By nightfall, three battalions had reached the top, and they were frantically trying to prepare some semblance of a defense. It had been impossible to dig in while light remained, as the volume of incoming fire caused too many casualties. The Marines waited anxiously, and as soon as the rifle fire petered out, began digging for all they were worth. Without time to coordinate their efforts, and with Japanese mortars and machine guns making their presence known, the Marine line was scarcely a solid position. They "could feel a counterattack in the very air," as Carl Hoffman put it. Tanks failed to reach the summit as one hit a mine; the open halftracks were vulnerable to mortars, and wire-stringing details took so many casualties that Marines simply passed a roll of wire from foxhole to foxhole and shoved the barbs out to about 10 feet in front of their positions.

Then the counterattacks began.

At 2300, yelling Japanese hit the line between the two battalions of the 8th Marines. Fortunately, interlocking machine guns and 37mm cannon loaded with canister broke the attack. Further probes from the front were also repulsed - but there were still gaps in the line, which made attack from the rear a very real possibility.


Able Company Casualties, July 31, 1944Wounded:
Corporal Howard Eugene Smith
Private William Jacob Rewerts.

Total: 2

J+6

July 30, 1944

The 4th Division faced a unique obstacle on their sixth day on the island. They had spent a sleepless night in a constant downpour, and there was a brief scare of a Japanese attack - mortar rounds started landing in the 25th Marines' territory, and the front lines heard rustling and muttering to their front, but Marine mortars broke up the invisible enemy and no assault developed. As dawn broke, the soaked and disgusted Marines prepared to move against Tinian Town itself.

Tinian Town and the beaches surrounding it had been considered the most likely place for the Americans to land, and the Japanese had fortified the area accordingly. This was the area where the 2nd Division had made their successful feint on the first day of the operation, and the Navy had suffered several casualties and some damage to their ships from powerful coastal defense guns. Indeed, a good part of the reason that the real landings met with so little opposition was that the lion's share of the Japanese were stationed in the town. However, the defenders had not reckoned on the Marines approaching from the north, and their bunkers and emplacements were facing the wrong direction. Additionally, Tinian Town had been subjected to heavy air and naval attention, and most of its big guns had been destroyed.

The big guns of the 14th Marines blasted away at likely looking positions for ten minutes, then the Marines moved forward at 0745, advancing for a short while under the cover of the artillery. Once again, they moved forward with tanks close by, and eventually 1/24 found themselves embroiled in a fight to eliminate Japanese machine guns and riflemen in caves along the coast. Clearing these emplacements had almost become routine, except there was always a chance of death. Medium tanks and amphtanks blasted the cave mouths with high explosive; one the defenders had been suppressed a light flamethrower tank would scurry up and incinerate the occupants. The Marine engineers, wielding satchel charges, bazookas, flamethrowers and covered by riflemen, ran in to complete the destruction.

Eventually, 1/24 finished its messy work, driving panicked Japanese before them as they advanced into Tinian Town, entering the outskirts at around 1420. It was a town in name only; the amount of explosives hurled into its streets had reduced Tinian Town to a smoldering pile of rubble. Destroyed houses provided good cover for snipers, and the Marines were on their guard, yet the garrison of Tinian Town consisted of a single Japanese soldier. Whether he had been separated from his unit, was the sole survivor of an unlucky gun crew, or hoped to cause his own little bit of damage was never ascertained; as the only visible target to a regiment of angry Marines, his lifespan was correspondingly short.

The only other signs of resistance were occasional Japanese shells that burst in the ruins and hit nobody, abandoned bunkers, and the spikes of horned mines that could be seen lining the beach in their hundreds. Aside from the lone Japanese, no corpses were found. The 24th finished combing through the town by 1700, and dug in for the night on the 0-7 line south of town. The islands most formidably defended obstacle had been taken.

The 25th Marines, the other regiment in the assault, easily captured Airfield #4 and was relieved on the line by the 23rd Marines.

By now, fully eighty percent of the island was held by the Marines. The 2nd Division had faced some tougher resistance on J+6, but were still mystified by the lack of strong positions and determined defenders that they had come to expect. The Japanese were still out there, somewhere, and as the Marines looked out from their new positions, they could plainly see a large, wooded escarpment rising ominously in the distance, with sheer cliffs rising to a plateau. The cliffs were impossible to scale on the eastern side; in the center, a road snaked up in double hairpins. Only on the west - where the 4th Division rested - was there anything approaching a reasonable ascent. It was the ideal place for a last stand.


Able Company Casualties, July 30, 1944Killed:
Corporal Richard Theodore Grosch. St. Louis, MO. Age 23. Shot in head by sniper.
Private LeRoy J. Heath

Total: 2

J+5

July 29, 1944

I said, 'Now, look here men, the island of Maui is waiting for us. See those ships out there? The quicker you get this over with, the quicker we'll be back there.' They almost ran over that island.

- General Clifton Cates, commanding officer, 4th Marine Division.

The Tinian campaign was only five days old, and already the Americans controlled half the island.

Both Marine divisions were allowed to operate essentially as they wished on July 29. The next line, O-7, was about 5,000 yards ahead, and commanders were instructed to advance at their own discretion.

1/24, advancing along the west coast, had the misfortune of running into the only serious organized resistance. A bunker complex, cleverly camouflaged and well laid out, held up the battalion until the tanks could arrive. The area had to be overrun twice before resistance stopped.

It became apparent that five thousand yards was a little optimistic, even by the quickly moving standards of Tinian. The Marines found themselves on excellent defensive ground by midafternoon, tied in their flanks, and dug in for the night.

This young girl wandered into the advance lines of 3/6, looking for water.

Able Company Casualties, July 29, 1944

Wounded
Private Kay Reese
Private Rafaelo Salvato

Total: 2

J+4

July 28, 1944

It was the 4th Division's turn to advance in force, and they did not disappoint. After an overwhelming artillery barrage (lacking specific targets, the gunners fired at locations that looked suspicious instead), the Marines moved through neatly divided canefields that formed a patchwork on the hills and valleys, taking their objectives for the day before 1300.

General Cates, commanding the 4th Division, noted that his men now held a line along the very widest point of the island. The gap between his two assault regiments was filled by the 24th, finally called from reserve. After a brief pause, during which there was a flurry of communication, Cates ordered his division to continue their advance. Later, the 23rd Marines would refer to this advance as a "blitz." Men hopped on tanks and halftracks, enjoying a chance to rest their feet. Again, only light resistance was encountered, and by 1730 the division had advanced another two miles from their original objective.

The 23rd was pinched out along the coastline, and retired to division reserve. One hundred and eighty five civilians and two Imperial soldiers surrendered to the Americans; the soldiers reported that the rest of their army had retreated to the very southern tip of the island.

Even the outer edges of a hurricane hitting the island could not dampen enthusiasm at this news. The weather, which had not been pleasant, finally broke, causing havoc among the supply troops at the White Beaches. Ashore, the Marines settled in under ponchos. This was nothing they hadn't experienced before, and there were no Japanese in front of them.

The 4th Division was so far understrength by this point that several replacements earmarked for the 2nd Division were reassigned. Able Company was joined by:

2nd Lt. Louis Pantaleo (Platoon Leader)
Sergeant William Wittwer (Section Leader)
PFC Philip Enaco (521 -Basic)
PFC Werner Piede (Intelligence Observer)
Private Alva Gordan (Mortar Gunner)
Private Joseph Griffaw (Mortar Gunner)
Private Ted Hale (Mortar Gunner)
Private LeRoy J. Heath (Mortar Gunner)
Private Jim Jenkins (MOS 531)
Private Roland Jennings (MOS 531)
Private Raymond Johnson (MOS 531)
Private Lawrence Karr (MOS 531)
Private Galen Mueller (Rifleman)
Private Wilfred Neasolney (Rifleman)
Private Paul Nicholson (Automatic Rifleman)
Private Lawrence A. Nolen (Rifleman)
Private George J .E. Nowack (Rifleman)
Private Timothy O'Connell (Rifleman)
Private Lawrence Osburn (Rifleman)
Private Ernest Pania (Rifleman)
Private Harvey L. Payne (Rifleman)
Private William H. Pearson (Rifleman)
Private Francis Peters (Rifleman)
Private James Peterson (Rifleman)
Private LeRoy Pickett (Rifleman)
Private Thomas Platt (Rifleman)
Private Frank Edward Pratt (Rifleman)
Private Olva Pratt (Rifleman)
Private Henry Prevot (Rifleman)
Private Peter Printz (Rifleman)
Private Steve Procko (Rifleman)
Private Richard Radish (Rifleman)
Private Richard Reams (Rifleman)
Private Kay Reese (Rifleman)
Private Robert Rodgers (Rifleman)
Private Geradi Rolling (Rifleman)
Private Durward Sherwood (Rifleman)
Private James Slavik (Machine Gunner)
Private Thomas J. Slockbower (Heavy Machine Gunner)
Private Robert Smith (Machine Gunner)
Private Richard Taber (Machine Gunner)
Private Earl D. Tanker (Machine Gunner)
Private Wilford Weaver (Rifleman)

Able Company Casualties, July 28, 1944Wounded:
PFC Bartholomew R. J. Wanagaitis

Total: 1

J+3

July 27, 1944

Plans for a simultaneous two-pronged attack were dropped on the third day on the island.

One downside (if not the only downside) of minimal opposition was that intelligence officers had no idea what Japanese units they'd encountered. They had managed to form some idea of the garrison of the island before landing - that, after all, was one of the primary jobs of division intel - but where there were fewer Japanese, there were fewer chances to take the customarily rare prisoners for interrogation. (Interesting to note: many Americans recalled that the few Japanese prisoners they took were surprisingly helpful when interrogated. Reasons for this compliance abound, though the most likely seems to be that soldiers simply were not prepared for the possibility of being captured, and were overwhelmed to find that it wasn't really as bad as they had been lead to believe. Since Japan did not sign the Geneva Convention dictating what information a POW was required to provide, many went all out). One prisoner taken by the 24th mentioned the 50th Infantry; no corpses had been turned up bearing insignia or identification relating to this regiment, and the intelligence officers thus decided that there were still substantial Japanese reserves on Tinian. This would eventually turn out to be true; for now, the two divisions would alternate in their advances - a move that historians analogized as "elbowing."

The 2nd Division was the first to take a long advance, and in a little over six hours had covered 4,000 yards. Upon reaching their objective, patrols were sent out an additional 500 yards and encountered only five Japanese soldiers, two of whom were killed.

Over in the 4th Division sector, the 23rd and 25th Marines moved only a few hundred yards, pulling up and digging in at their objective by noon. They too sent out patrols; these advanced a thousand yards and found no sign of the enemy.

The 2nd Division reported scattered "snooping" Japanese; the 4th Division spent a night as peaceful as they could hope for on the front lines. Aside from the heat and the rain, Tinian in these late days of July was not a bad place to be.


Able Company Casualties, July 27, 1944None.

J+2

July 26, 1944

With both divisions ashore and ready to move, a two-pronged advance towards the O-3 line was possible. The 2nd Division would drive east until they reached the coast, while the 4th Division would move south towards Mt. Lasso.

To say that the Japanese on Tinian had no hope of victory cannot be misconstrued as saying that the Marines would have it easy on the rest of the island. As on Saipan, a great deal of the flat land was covered in sugarcane fields. These were difficult obstacles; the canes themselves were thick and durable enough to trip anyone who didn't watch where he put his feet, and they provided excellent concealment for lone Japanese. Visibility was very limited until the cane could be trampled down, and often the first indication that you weren't alone was the high-pitched *crack* of a rifle. Add in high temperatures, extremely high humidity, and daily downpours (it was monsoon season on Tinian) and you have the elements of an exhausting, long campaign.

Fortunately, though, resistance was much lighter than on Saipan. Terrain and weather aside, the 2nd Division accomplished all of its objectives ahead of schedule, and recorded only 2 killed and 14 wounded for the entire day.

The 23rd and 25th Marines advanced south as quickly as the terrain would allow. The 23rd encountered few Japanese, took their O-3 line, reorganized, and went for O-4. The most unusual part of their day was the discovery of a collection of torpedo warheads, but these were disarmed without incident. The 25th had prepped themselves for a fight - Mt. Lasso was directly in front of their First Battalion and they would be responsible for subduing it. Happily (if somewhat inexplicably) the Japanese had abandoned their commanding position, and the Marines slogged to the top without a fight.

2/24 had been attached to the 25th; the other two battalions went into division reserve after being passed through by the 2nd Division, and spent the day mopping up the newly won terrain.

Tiny artillery spotter planes buzzed overhead, landing at Ushi Point Airfield, which had been in Japanese hands less than twenty four hours before. Japanese heavy guns were silent. A captured Imperial soldier griped that "You couldn't drop a stick without bringing down artillery."

2/2 had a wild night as bypassed Japanese soldiers attempted to rejoin their comrades on the other side of the lines, and dropped 137 of them while losing two killed and two wounded. All other battalions were silent. As Carl Hoffman commented: "Saipan had never been like this."

Able Company Casualties, July 26, 1944None.

J+1

The 4th Marine Division shook itself off and peered out of its foxholes. Behind them, perhaps one hundred Marines stumbled back to their aid stations, or were carried back on stretchers. Before them lay 1,241 Japanese bodies and the smoking hulks of five tanks. In one impetuous assault, the Japanese commander Colonel Ogata had destroyed a seventh of his garrison, and nearly half his tanks. The 23rd, 24th, and 25th Marines, along with 1/8, had scored an overwhelming victory.

The Marines collected themselves, took care of their wounded and bade farewell to the dead. They were so low on ammunition that the order to advance was delayed three hours until 1000. The remainder of the day was to be spent landing the 2nd Division, and expanding the beachhead.

The first elements of the 2nd Division - the balance of the 8th Marines - began landing shortly after 0900. 1/8 was attached to the 24th Marines, and replaced the battered companies of 1/24 on the front lines. The rest of the division landed piecemeal over the small White beaches over the rest of the day.

The 4th Division began to move inland. The 23rd Marines faced only light opposition, while the 25th Marines ran into a more serious fight on Mt. Maga. The assault was coordinated with heavy mortars and tanks - the wide open plains of Tinian made for excellent teamwork between the tankers and the infantry - and by afternoon they had overrun one of the island's most intimidating natural obstacles.

The 24th, meanwhile, broke out in two different directions; 2/24 headed to the south, while 3/24 made for the east coast. 1/24, badly mangled the night before, stayed in reserve. The two assault battalions moved forward with a thin line of skirmishers closely following tanks. They would repeat this highly effective tactic each day for the rest of the campaign.

(The 8th Marines follow suit.)

The Division's artillery regiment, the 14th Marines, had their worst day of the entire campaign. Their First Battalion's fire direction center took a direct hit from enemy artillery, killing the battalion commander, the intelligence officer, the operations officer, and seven others. Fourteen were wounded. The 14th put the commanding heights of Mt. Lasso under heavy concentration, and together with supporting aircraft blasted two large guns that were frowning down on the Americans.

Marine infantry tied in securely that night along their objective line. The bulk of two divisions were ashore, and the Japanese seemingly too exhausted to try another counterattack. Occasional attempts at infiltration were handily put down. One flare-up along the right flank of the 24th Marines was later described by Lt. Victor Maghakian, commanding a recon platoon attached to the 24th:

After getting the men in position . . . near the road junction . . . I went on a reconnaissance. . . . I spotted a large enemy patrol coming down the road with a scout out in front.

After seeing that they moved into position in a cane field about 50 feet from my platoon, I crawled back and told Captain Key [commanding the division reconnaissance company] what I planned to do.

In the meantime the Japs were digging in and were making a lot of noise talking and did not suspect that we were so close. . . . I passed the word down the line to open up and fire rapid fire into the cane field, knee-high grazing fire, upon my signal.

. . . we opened up and let them have it as fast as we could pull our triggers. They began screaming . . . and making awful noises. Then after a few minutes I ordered my platoon to fall back to the division lines because I was afraid that maybe our own division might fire on us.

After falling back, I reported what happened, and our troops opened up . . . with mortar and machine gun fire.

Next morning I took my platoon back to the road junction and the cane field and found between 35 and 40 dead Japs in that area. I did not lose a man that night.

- quoted in Maj. Carl Hoffman, The Seizure of Tinian

On one of the hospital ships waiting offshore, Corporal Howard Haff was carried below decks and made comfortable. Haff had seen many of his friends in the weapons platoon wounded and killed, but had escaped injury until the Tinian landing. He was scared and alone, but the young corporal was determined not to show it. As he took stock of his surroundings, he was overjoyed to notice that he recognized the man in the bed next to him. Haff leaned over to talk to fellow corporal Claude Henderson, and stopped short.

Henderson had been shot through the throat, and couldn't speak.

Howie Haff probably thought back to the time that the boys in the weapons platoon had found Claude's extra blouse in his seabag. Everyone knew that Claude wanted to be an NCO more than anything, and sometimes he forgot that he was only a PFC like his friends. When they found the blouse with the two stripes of a corporal already sewn on, George Smith remembered, "boy, we would never let him go!" Despite all the teasing, they liked Claude, and when he was finally made a corporal they celebrated with him.


Claude Henderson died in his bed that night.

Able Company Casualties, July 25, 1944
Killed:
Sergeant William Pinkney Linkins, Jr. Silver Spring, MD. Age 21. Fragment wound, head.
PFC Richard Joseph Brodnicki. Buffalo, NY. Bullet wound, forehead.
PFC Charles Edward Seader. Philadelphia, PA.
Private Joseph Dale Sexson. Indianapolis, IN. Age 18.

Died of Wounds:
Corporal Claude T. Henderson, Jr. Norfolk, VA. Wounded July 24. Died aboard hospital ship.

Wounded:
Sergeant George M. Lowry
Corporal Wallace Morgan Holt (second wound)
PFC Winston McKay Cabe (second wound)
PFC Amadeo A. Izzo
PFC Howard M. Kerr (second wound)
PFC William Ralph Pettyjohn
PFC George Raspotnik
PFC Joe Westley Roff [Roff was listed as MIA on the battalion muster rolls; evidently he had been hit and in the confusion had taken off to find medical help on his own.]
PFC Robert U. Santerre
PFC George W. Secor
PFC Kenneth J. Shea
Field Music 1c Harold J. Fritz (not evacuated)
Private Ronald Paul Bartels
Private Joe Preston Locke
Private Albert Smith
Private Edward J. Solak
Private Cecil Ray Tolley


Total: 22

The Counterattack

July 25, 1944
The amount of activity in front of the Marine lines was a sure sign that something ominous was building up in the dark.

Shouts and cries echoed in the blackness, the first ones becoming audible around 1230. Scattered mortar rounds began impacting in 1/24's sector. In their hole, Perry, Holt, and Roquet noticed that the Japanese were howling and throwing rocks. The Marines gritted their teeth and waited for the inevitable.

It came at 0200.

The Japanese artillery suddenly let loose. A Company found themselves in the midst of the heaviest bombardment they had endured in three campaigns. During any shelling, the absolute helplessness of any one man to do anything about his fate stared everyone in the face. Sweating, cursing, and praying, with explosions, Japanese shrieking, and the cries of the wounded filling their ears and the lights of fires and flares giving the battlefield a nightmarish glow, Perry, Holt, Roquet and the rest of A Company kept their heads down and waited tensely for it to all be over. An explosion rocked their foxhole. Dirt, stones, and pieces of hot metal rained in on the three Marines. Wallace Holt, a 21 year old corporal from Grafton, North Dakota stared aghast at the severed stump where his right hand had been. "I won't be able to play baseball anymore!" he yelled to Perry. "My hand's gone!" Holt jumped out of the foxhole and ran for the company aid post. Roquet and Perry lost sight of him in the flashing darkness. The bombardment slackened.

The screaming and chanting grew louder and closer. Up and down the lines, Marines braced themselves for the charge.

They came all right, maybe at about half past two that morning. My company was quite undersized by this time. We were protecting the left flank of the whole bridgehead with about one hundred men.

It was at this time that my barbed wire became invaluable. God, did we pile those Japs up on it!

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982 interview, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac"

The Japanese exploded from the brush less than 30 yards from the Marine lines. Every weapon in the American arsenal began firing almost at once. Tracers flicked overhead, bullets whined through the air, and Japanese troops began to fall in carload lots, but still they came. Big flares hung overhead like chandeliers, casting an eerie greenish-white illumination over the battlefield. The fighting became a bitter toe-to-toe slugfest, each man fully absorbed in what was going on around him.

Captain Schechter was not afforded the luxury of staying still. As Company Commander, he could easily have remained in his command post and directed the defense, but that was not the way "Buck" lead. He had a habit of refusing to wear his helmet in combat, saying that he'd put it on "when things got rough." Every man in A Company was used to the sight of their Captain, helmetless, chewing a piece of grass while making decisions. Now he raced from foxhole to foxhole, encouraging his men, stopping to fire when needed, and boosting their morale.

In the individual holes, personal dramas were being played out. Private Cecil Ray Tolley, 19, a veteran of Namur and Saipan, was dug in near a machine gun crew that was pouring bullets into the mass of Japanese. A grenade sailed through the dark and into their hole, where it exploded. The crew were seriously wounded, and the Japanese were closing on their hole. Losing a machine gun was a serious blow to the company defenses. Tolley raced over to the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger. He was badly wounded, but before he lost consciousness he singlehandedly burned through four boxes of ammunition - nearly a thousand rounds - and accounted for an unknown number of Japanese. He would survive, and go home to Mississippi with a Navy Cross.

Al Perry was busy, too. He had stocked up with 30 magazines of ammunition for his BAR - each magazine contained 20 rounds - plus additional ammunition in bandoleers. Japanese soldiers were pitching to the ground within arms reach of his hole. The BAR, a rugged weapon, was unable to stand up to the demands placed upon it, and overheated, rendering it useless. Perry flung the weapon down and took advantage of a brief respite to search outside his hole for a discarded BAR. He did not have to go far, but by the time he returned to his hole, Leon Roquet was gone. Perry jumped back in and continued fighting alone.

The Japs would yell "banzai" and my men would yell it right back at them, along with some choice obscenities. The most remarkable thing to me was that every single one of my men stayed put. I don't think one of them broke and ran. I was constantly circulating as best I could among these Marines, trying to keep a lid on things.

Then we did get a lucky break. The shells from those two 37 millimeters were devastating. I think the Japs came at us three different times and after the third charge, those 37s ran out of ammunition. I don't know if we could have stopped another charge without those shells.


- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982 interview, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac"

By 0500, Perry was almost out of ammunition. He paused, collecting up his empty magazines, preparing to load extra rounds from his bandoleers. The American artillery and mortars were beginning to slacken their fire, but the Japanese kept coming. Perry knew he couldn't stop firing long enough to load individual magazines. Fortunately, a Marine he did not know from one of the mortar teams slid into his hole. The 60mm mortars were out of ammunition, he said, and could he help Perry by loading magazines for him? They fought side by side until daylight, Perry shooting anything that moved, and the unidentified Marine calmly loading fresh magazines.

With daylight, American tanks began to roll up to the front lines. The Japanese had not cracked A Company's line in more than three hours of assault. Sensing that they were nearly spent, many of the Japanese went rushing forward, screaming "Banzai!" and clutching grenades or antitank mines to their bodies. Up and down the line, Marines pushed beyond the point of horror watched their enemies run forward and burst apart only yards or feet from their foxholes. Everyone was covered in blood and body parts.

Finally, the firing and explosions ceased. Dazed Marines peeked out of their foxholes, and saw that there weren't many of them left. Al Perry was so deafened from the fighting that he couldn't hear the cries of the wounded. He pulled himself out of his hole and went to see who had survived.

PFC Richard J. Brodnicki of Buffalo, NY, was in the first hole Perry checked. Brodnicki had been shot cleanly between the eyes.

PCF Winston McKay Cabe, 24, from North Carolina, lay in the next hole. Perry rolled him over and saw with horror that his good friend was missing most of his face. Cabe was still alive, and Perry screamed for a corpsman. A new "sailor" came running over (most of A Company's medical support had been lost on Saipan; Perry remembered being surprised at how old this man was - maybe 35), took a look, and pulled out his scissors to cut away the hair from where Cabe's nose had been. Suddenly, the corpsman grabbed his stomach and pitched forward, landing dead on top of Cabe. Perry saw that something had torn the man's stomach open; his hands were full of his intestines.

Perry was sure that Cabe was dead. He pulled Cabe's blanket out and covered what remained of his face. As he prepared to say goodbye to his friend, a Japanese soldier who had hidden nearby jumped up and ran towards him, screaming. Perry scarcely had time to react before the man detonated in front of him. He felt something slam into his shoulder, and thought he had surely been hit. When he looked down, he saw the Japanese soldier's severed hand clutching his neck. Perry brushed it away.

Captain Schechter was passing nearby, and shouted at Perry to get back in his hole. Dazedly, he complied.

Four hundred and seventy six Japanese bodies lay sprawled or in pieces within 100 yards of First Battalion. The lion's share was in front of A Company. Many of them would receive awards; Captain Schechter and Private Tolley would receive the Navy Cross. Everyone was content just to be alive.

A Company had dug in the night before with somewhere between 100 and 150 men.

Only thirty of them were still capable of carrying weapons by daylight.

J+1 had just begun.

(Wallace Holt and Winston Cabe were out of the war for good. Cabe lived until 1955; Holt until 1997. George Smith caught up with Holt in the hospital, and Holt proudly demonstrated how he had learned to light a match with only his left hand).

[The identity of the machine gunner posted near Tolley isn't known for sure, though three gunners were wounded on the 25th: Amedeo Izzo, Howard Kerr, and William Pettyjohn. These three were veterans of Namur and Saipan, and although their MOS lists them as ammunition carriers, it's very possible that they were grouped together as a squad after the number of casualties the platoon took on Saipan. Also, none were returned to combat after being evacuated, which points towards much more serious wounds.]

Tinian: Jig Day

H-Hour plus four minutes. LVTs heading back from shore have just deposited E/2/24 on beach White One; A/1/24 are in the vehicles moving towards land.

It rained.

The 4th Marine division, who had embarked on troop ships the day before, were less concerned with the weather than with the imminent landing. They had been badly battered in the Saipan campaign just weeks ago, and though they'd had a period of relative peace after completing their mopping up obligations, they were nowhere close to the strength they'd enjoyed during the previous fight. Al Perry estimated that by the end of the fighting on Saipan, A Company had lost 40% of their men, leaving them with a total strength of about 155. Perry also recalled that he had physically lost about 30 pounds and was numbed by the loss of so many friends killed and wounded. (Perry, on the other hand, had been keeping a tally of different losses. In a Marine Corps Times article written in 2004, he took "no pleasure in remembering that, as a teenage Marine, he made a notch in the stock of his BAR for each Japanese he believed he killed, a total that reached about 135.") The ranks of the 24th Marines were somewhat augmented by the arrival of 9 officers and 244 enlisted men, all replacements, who arrived fresh faced and presumably somewhat in awe of the rangy, dirty veterans. The replacements were spread throughout the Regiment as needed.

A Company's efforts had not gone unnoticed. Captain Schechter found himself summoned to Regimental HQ a few days after the fighting ceased on Saipan.

In anticipation of this move our regimental commander, Colonel Hart, called me into his tent.

"Schechter," he said, "I like the way your company operates. I'd like to have Company A lead the assault on Tinian. How would you like to go in?"

"Well, Colonel," I said, "I'd like to land with my entire company in one wave. This way I'll have my riflemen, mortars and machine gunners all ashore at the same time."

"Schechter, that sounds like a good idea. I think I'll land the whole regiment in company waves."

And I believe that's the way we landed. It worked.

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982 interview, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."

In the end, it was decided that A Company would be the second company to land on the beach. E Company would be the first to touch ground on Beach White One, a miniscule strip of sand barely 60 yards long. This beach, along with Beach White Two, were selected for their proximity to Saipan and also by virtue of the fact that a landing here appeared next to impossible - so much so that the Japanese left only a token force of defenders and concentrated their main efforts on the beaches near Tinian Town, farther to the south along the west coast of the island. Accordingly, American planners created a diversion force to keep the Japanese occupied, while throwing artillery based on Saipan against the White Beach defenses.


A Company awoke on June 24th to the now familiar steak-and-eggs breakfast that accompanied an assault landing. Everyone was fervently hoping that they were not in for a repeat of Saipan. E Company climbed down the nets into their tracked LVTs - a reef offshore of the beaches made landing by boat impossible - and chugged towards Tinian at 0717, beginning a 3,000 yard voyage under the guns of their support ships. Some of the defenders on the beach scrambled for their weapons, and incoming fire - estimated by various accounts at .50 caliber, 20mm, and 40mm - began whipping among the boats, but was not concentrated enough to cause much damage. Besides, the awesome firepower of a pair of battleships, assorted smaller warships, coastal artillery, and landing craft equipped with cannon and rockets was more than enough to answer any desultory shots taken by the defenders.

E Company touched sand at 0750. The Marines vaulted over the sides of the amphtracks, which about-faced and paddled back out to sea - the beachhead was far too narrow for them to stay put. A brief, nasty firefight erupted on the beach as Japanese soldiers hidden in coral crevasses angrily protested the landing, but they were eliminated in a matter of minutes. A Company plowed ashore about four minutes later (each of the fifteen successive waves was scheduled to land at intervals of four to ten minutes; the waves consisted of eight LVTs each carrying a company or equivalent sized unit), just as E Company was reporting that they had cleared the obstacles and were preparing to move inland.

Interestingly, none of the Marines were carrying their combat packs. These had been left behind on Saipan, and the invaders landed with their pockets stuffed with emergency rations, utensils, extra socks, and bug repellent. Ponchos were tucked into ammunition belts. This was due in part to the planned progress of the invasion - this would not be a fast, hard drive as had been attempted on Saipan. Knowing that the troops were weakened, the generals had decided to allow two weeks for the capture of Tinian. This afforded a more leisurely pace for the Marines and meant that extra time and care could be taken in the attack to minimize casualties. As a result, the Marines would theoretically never outpace their means of supply, and would not have to carry their bulky equipment with them.

A Company was tasked with securing the left flank of the Regiment and holding their position until the rest of the battalion could be landed. As soon as they landed, the company smartly wheeled 90 degrees to the left and quickly came under fire.

Several Japanese soldiers appeared out of nowhere to greet us with small arms fire. And, once again, that phrase called "pure luck" showed up for me.

As I waded in, I turned to give some orders to my radio operator only to see the poor guy floating in the surf. He had been hit in the head with a bullet.... The Japs would almost always go for the man with the visible equipment. That's the way it was.

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982 interview, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."

Another casualty was veteran sergeant Michael Frihauf of Rossford, Ohio (holding the BAR) . He had won the Bronze Star on Namur and survived the fighting on Saipan only to be shot by a sniper while in mid conversation with Al Perry.

Nevertheless, A Company had walked ashore standing up, a marked difference over their last landing. Defenses in the area were limited - the RCT 24 report indicates that only one bunker was encountered, and that had been hastily built out of natural chunks of coral, with a poor field of fire. Some other small emplacements were cleared out, and soon the two assault companies had their objectives under control, and by 0846 all of First and Second battalions had cleared the beaches and were moving inland. The entire process had lasted less than an hour.

First Battalion did run into some difficulty that carried unwelcome memories of Saipan - Japanese troops hidden in caves and in thick underbrush kept peppering the Marines with scattered rifle and MG fire. Mortars and light artillery (often antiaircraft guns firing laterally) dropped sporadically into the area around the beach. LVT(A)s, floating offshore, helped suppress some of the hidden enemy, and flamethrowing tanks (M3A1 light tanks, known as "Ronsons" for the manufacturer of their flame equipment, had their 37mm main guns replaced by a large flamethrower) lent a hand, but the battalion was stopped short of their objective and prepared their positions for the night at 1600.

Second Battalion, on the right, reached the O-1 line, and Third Battalion waited in reserve.

The other regimental combat teams landed, the 25th and 23rd Marines, also faced problems. The 25th hit the slightly larger White Two, which featured two blockhouses and several mines, as well as booby-trapped watches and cases of beer. The Japanese knew the American tendency to collect souvenirs, and were hoping to capitalize on it, but the ruse was seen through and the traps were handled by engineers. The 23rd, the last regiment to deploy, moved in to cover the very right flank of the line. A battalion of the 8th Marines landed as well, and moved into support of the 24th.

Compared to the landing on Saipan (and it was difficult not to compare the two; Saipan was just three miles away across the channel) the landing forces made a stunning achievement while losing 15 killed and 225 wounded. The diversionary force had taken some hits as well; Japanese batteries had hit several of the warships, temporarily disabling two of them and causing some carnage. The wisdom of attacking the smaller beaches was readily apparent in light of the reception afforded to the diversionary force. These Marines, all 2nd Division men, sailed back North and would eventually land in support of the 4th Division.

At the day's end, the Marine front stretched 2,900 yards end to end, forming a bulge that was nearly a mile deep in places. They had managed to land over 15,600 fighting men, tanks, artillery, and vehicles. Already, the Japanese were outgunned and outnumbered (their garrison never numbered much over 9,100, and that was before any casualties taken on July 24). However, disparate numbers had never deterred the Japanese from attacking Marines, and positions were chosen on the virtue of their defensive traits rather than proximity to the objective line. Past experience had taught the Marines that if a serious counterattack was forthcoming, it would usually be on the first night. Accordingly, all units halted between 1600 and 1630. The front lines dug in deep, placing grenades, extra ammo, and their fighting knives within easy reach. Machine guns fired bursts of tracers to check that they interlocked, artillery was registered on likely approaches, and mortars deployed to fire illumination as needed.

As my company was the first one ashore, I was asked to give a priority for equipment. I expected a counterattack from the Nips so I asked for plenty of barbed wire, which turned out to be an excellent choice.

On our second night ashore we took the barbed wire and strung it up in front of the company. I also set up two 37 millimeter guns that could fire canisters when and if the Japs came at us.

- Captain Irving Schechter, 1982 interview, quoted in Henry Berry's "Semper Fi, Mac."

Al Perry and two buddies, Leon Roquet and Wallace Holt, dug themselves a foxhole. Along with the rest of Company A, they peered into the gathering blackness. Occasionally, someone on the line fired at a Japanese soldier creeping through the brush, and once a heavy artillery concentration descended upon two foolish enemy scouts who climbed into a building in plain sight of the Marines and began sketching the front lines. Everyone knew something was coming, and soon; the only question was where on the line the blow would fall.

Able Company Casualties, July 24, 1944

Killed:
Sergeant Michael Anthony Frihauf. Rossville, OH. Age 25. Bullet wounds, fragment wound, back.
PFC Theodore Droszcz. Age 27.

Wounded:
2nd Lt. Paul J. Rossi
Corporal Howard F. Haff
Corporal Donald R. Hart
Corporal Claude Thomas Henderson, Jr. (fatal)
PFC Donald E. Peters

Total: 7

Saipan: Mop Up and Casualties

July 11 - July 24, 1944

This rocky tip terminated all northern movement, and on pausing, we recalled the countless times direction had been changed, and the amount of ground over which we had plodded since June 15. As so often happens, the lower echelons could not comprehend some of the tactical decisions of top commanders. For the small unit picture is necessarily incomplete and narrow in scope. And likewise a lack of detailed, on-the-spot knowledge often causes commanding officers to fail to appreciate local situations.

Hence we could not comprehend the logic or reasoning behind the recurrent rumor that a Tinian invasion by the 2nd and 4th Marine Divisions was imminent. And upon return to our battalion bivouac area on the high ground south of Marpi Point we were greeted not by rumor, but by an order for a two-day southward trek for continued mopping-up operations. Naval releases disclosing that Japs were still being dug out ten months later, shows the wisdom of the assignment. But at the time we weary foot troops could not appreciate it, and we would gladly have declined the task in favor of any and all other troops on the island.

Along with the unwanted order came reinforcements in the for of a long stream of men straight off shipborad, and struggling under weighty packs containing all their gear. New faces always evoke interest, and the arrival of these green men was a stimulant to morale. We survivors were intensely proud of having carried through the operation and of the manner in which the battalion had performed. We were proud of ourselves and our division, and here were new personnel on which to build and fatten the ego, and, as we fancied, to look upon us with respect, admiration, and even awe. Knowledge of one's accomplishments and importance can be invaluable occasionally. So it was pleasant to enjoy the role of "greatness" as they sweated their way up the hill and into camp. Early on the final day of our fourth week on Saipan we moved up on to the highest local ground and deployed facing to the south, The cause for our maneuver was immediately apparent as we flushed several dozen well-provisioned enemy while merely in the initial stages of deployment--once again with small casualties to ourselves.

The cave-bound Japs were living on two sources of supply: the stores they had secreted prior to our arrival, and the stores left behind during our rapid drive to Marpi Point. For it was normal to be somewhat oversupplied at night in order to be able to cope with any situation. Hence when we moved out in the morning the weight of this excess material prohibited its removal by hand, and transportation was not always subsequently available. It was an unavoidable battle condition at the time, but it was costly for it provided the enemy with much needed food, and even graver, it furnished him with some small arms, ammunition, and grenades. Thus it was that a few men fell before our own weapons in Japanese hands.

The beginning of this day contained the major portion of the action, and throughout the remainder of it we advanced steadily, carefully combing the woods,detecting enemy periodically, and blasting caves with all the demolitions we could pack. Our encampment that night was disturbed by only one or two intruders,who were quickly and finally dealt with.

The weather I have not mentioned often, though at times it took on an exaggerated importance. The climate was decidedly more temperate than that of the Marshalls, and fortunately on most days we had either a light shower or scattered cloud cover. Thus the hot sun, though very tiring and sweat-producing, was controlled to an extent that it did not reduce our numbers. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn't a crippler.

Rain was welcomed in the daylight hours and hated at night. And it invariably came in the wrong ratio. The daytime showers were light but cooling, whereas at night it was normally a sacrifice of body and clothes to keep a dry and clean weapon.

But on the second and final day of mop-up, conditions were reversed, and floundered all day through thick muck and driving rain. And added to the water hazard was our return to the roughest sort of up-and-down terrain.

Luckily we encountered few of the enemy save for one jungle-covered ravine where we rooted out a score of armed Japs. It was our last killing on the island, and while we accounted for more than twenty, we lost three of our own in the skirmish and were lucky not to lose more in an area infested with caves and thick vegetation, and through which we could move by trail alone. To me the incident was supporting evidence for the contention that once shaken, the Jap is easily disorganized and then often acts stupidly and even fearfully. Certainly he should have inflicted heavier casualties on difficult ground with which only he was familiar.

That last fight ended the Battle of Saipan for those of us who had lasted for a part or the whole of twenty-nine tiring days of combat. Awaiting us was a bivouac area (a simulated rest camp), far more densely populated with flies than Marines. And after that--TINIAN!

Those four weeks of conquest were a period in which we learned small things: that supply is all-important; that a mosquito headnet is indispensable; a pick-mattock can be more valuable than a shovel;or a poncho is next in importance only to a weapon and ammunition, or rations. We underwent no grand scale changes in thought. If we did not know what we were fighting for on June 15, on July 13 our minds were no clearer on the subject.

Death and destruction came to be the natural order. Wounded comrades were given little sympathy unless the wound was critical. Mostly they were envied for being out of it. No pangs of conscience were felt over civilian death, for dead people and wrecked buildings had become commonplace.

We felt no more tired on "D plus 28" than on "D plus 3", probably less so. For after the first four days we were in a constant state of fatigue, but becoming inured to it. Our sensitivities were gradually dulled--hence the lessening of sympathy. Even the death of close friends seldom affected men visibly. That might come later when physical pressure had been relaxed. Our hatred for the enemy increased little, if any. Substantially the same amount of satisfaction was felt upon killing an enemy soldier at all times throughout the operation.

Essentially it was a period of prolonged physical exertion, spotted with moments of bravery, fear, anger, and cruelty. Individually, and as a unit, our task was completed to the satisfaction of all. We were content to stop and rest.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

In operations on Saipan, Able Company lost the following:

KILLED IN ACTION or DIED OF WOUNDS - 23
1st Lt. Philip Emerson "Eagle" Wood, Jr.
Technical Sergeant Arnold Ross Richardson
Sergeant Arthur B. "Mumu" Ervin, Jr.
Sergeant Armond D. Leisure
Corporal Albert Benjamin Duryea
Corporal Thomas Francis McCay
Corporal Norman Henry Reber
Corporal Blaine Riley
Corporal Carl Joseph Willenborg
PFC David W. Brunjes
PFC Jack C. Comer
PFC Fred Davis, Jr.
PFC DeWitt Landre "Dee" Dietrich
PFC Sperling Green Garrett
PFC Frank Roscoe Hester
PFC Lawrence Elmer Knight
PFC Davis Vernon Kruse
PFC John Lloyd Manson
PFC William J. Olson
PFC Alan Milton Smith
PFC Robert W. Vail, Jr.
PFC Henry Niles Woods

WOUNDED IN ACTION - 102
Captain Irving "Buck" Schechter
1st Lt. Harry Dare Reynolds, Jr. (second wound)
1st Lt. David E. "Smitty" Smith
1st Lt. Roy I. Wood, Jr.
Gunnery Sergeant Walter B. Russell
Platoon Sergeant Parker S. McBride
Platoon Sergeant John Yaniga
Technical Sergeant Michael J. Graziadei
Sergeant Warren J. Buchanan
Sergeant Dallas M. Colburn
Sergeant William W. Comer, Jr.
Sergeant Clifford J. Devoy
Sergeant Jack Tarleton Sayers
Sergeant Carl F. Schott
Sergeant Kermit Shaw
Sergeant Maynard S. Worthington
Corporal Lee R. Anderson
Corporal Lionel V. Bolduc
Corporal Ernest Cubero
Corporal Kenneth Russell Gray
Corporal James A. Lemma
Corporal William J. Quinn (second wound)
Corporal Vernon D. Rigdon
PFC George D. Burch
PFC Winston Mckay Cabe
PFC Harold E. Carter, Jr.
PFC James J. Chvatal, Jr.
PFC Robert L. Conway
PFC John Martin Corcoran
PFC John J. Czepiel
PFC William J. Davis
PFC James L. De Nicola
PFC Richard H. Dues
PFC Luca A. Durante
PFC Robert Frederick Fleischauer
PFC Douglas B. Footit
PFC John J. "JJ" Franey, Jr.
PFC Merle Leon "Mother" Geesaman
PFC Edward J. Hackett
PFC Robert N. Harris
PFC Cecil Floyd Hendershot (second wound)
PFC Claude Thomas Henderson Jr.
PFC Wallace Morgan Holt
PFC William J. Imm, Jr.
PFC Frederick D. Iverson
PFC Lawrence J. Jaster
PFC Ernest M. Jeffrey
PFC Tom L. Johnson
PFC Raymond J. Jordan
PFC Howard M. Kerr
PFC Verner A. Lilja, Jr.
PFC William Paul Loutzenhiser
PFC Tommy Lynchard
PFC Peter Markovitch
PFC Richard C. McGinnis
PFC Gerald D. Miller
PFC Hershell O. Miller
PFC Dale L. Owings
PFC Laurent Rene Palardy
PFC Lawrence Felix Pantlin
PFC Printis M. Parsons
PFC Aldo Passante
PFC Gerald F. Patterson
PFC Hamilton T. Pendergast
PFC Dominick Piccolomini
PFC John G. Rayley, Jr.
PFC Lionel Perez "Pappy" Salazar (twice)
PFC George A. "Gunga" Smith
PFC David W. Spohn
PFC Charles Lee "Cease" Stafford
PFC John R. Svoboda
PFC Fred Eugene Thomas
PFC Robert E. Tierney
PFC Robert M. Walter
PFC Robert L. Williams (twice)
PFC Robert N. Wise
PFC Robert P. Wynne
Private John C. Adelmann
Private Wallace W. Duncan
Private William Vernon Ellerd
Private James C. Fields (twice)
Private James Walter Freeman
Private Wilford M. Goode
Private Walker Hamilton
Private Ernest T. Henderson
Private James William Jackson
Private Junior E. Jones
Private Lester C. Kincaid
Private Andrew Loban
Private Glen Marshall
Private Clyde F. Mason, Jr.
Private Robert W. Mason
Private Herbert J. Mauritz
Private Vern J. Neeson
Private George W. Pelish
Private Anthony A. Pramberger
Private William F. Savoy
Private Robert D. Sivertson
Private Vernon E. Smith
Private Philip Valley, Jr.
Private Kenneth S. Wilson

MEDICAL PERSONNEL
PhM3c Eloy Manzanares, of Garcia, CO. WIA, date and age unknown.
PhM2c John Offer, of Lawrence, MA. KIA, June 29 1944, age 22.

[The Corpsmen are in a separate category as they were assigned per battalion, rather than by company. Corpsmen took enormous losses throughout the Pacific war; Al Perry noted that by July 25 on Tinian none of the familiar faces were left and there were brand new Corpsmen attending to Able Company's wounded.]


Joined from the Headquarters Battalion Casual Company, 2nd Marine Division:
July 12, 1944

PFC Philip J. Frocida
PFC Richard J. Powell
PFC George Raspotnik, Jr.
PFC Anthony P. Santagto
PFC Robert U. Santerre
PFC Herman N. Schwabl
PFC Charles Edward Seader
PFC George W. Secor

Returned from Hospital:
July 12:
PFC Robert Fleischauer
PFC Robert N. Harris
PFC Wallace Morgan Holt

July 13:
1st Lt. Roy Wood
PFC Roy Alford
Private Claude Lorton Godwin

July 15:
PFC Clyde Mason

July 16:
PFC William Loutzenhiser

July 17:
PFC Douglas Footit
PFC Junior Jones

July 19:
PFC James Adams


PROMOTIONS, July 18.
To Sergeant:
Edward Horan
Thomas Hurley
Wilbur Plitt
Joseph Wendte

To Corporal:
Winston Cabe
Edward DuBeck
Jeff Jowers
Howard Haff
Donald Hart
Clyde Yates

D+25

July 10, 1944

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.

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."

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.

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.

D+24

July 9, 1944

Objective O-9 (extreme northeastern tip of Saipan) had seemed very distant on 15 June 1944 when the 2d and 4th Marine Divisions hit the Charan Kanoa beaches. It seemed to get no closer as the days grew to weeks, and the number of casualties climbed from one digit to five, and the young matured to grim old age. As long as a single wooded hummock separated the front lines from the farthest tip of land, objective O-9 had been an ambition--little more. Ambition became reality on 9 July when the 4th Division spurted to the shores of Marpi Point.

- Maj. Carl Hoffman, Saipan: The Beginning Of The End

The end truly was in sight for the 4th Marine Division. Although facing "considerable harassment from extremely accurate sniper fire" and having to clear enemies from "caves and heavy underbrush," the assault battalions pushed forward all along the line, racing each other to be the first to Marpi Point.

When they reached the unfinished airfield, the only thing before them was the sea.

The final line, O-9, had been reached. Almost instantaneously, Saipan was declared officially "secured."

For the Marines, this declaration was met with raised eyebrows.

At 1615 a message was heard from an unknown station by tank liaison officer over tank TCS radio, that the island was secured. Part of F Company was pinned down on the beach for four hours by intense enemy machine gun and rifle fire from the western cliff face which resulted in one dead and ten wounded. This company was not able to pull completely back on to the high ground until darkness set in. It took five hours to evacuate the wounded up the treacherous cliff.

- 2/24 Official Report

...the island was announced as officially secured with appropriate flag-raisings and photographing of leading commanders on the Marpi airstrip. "Officially secure" and "mopping up operations continue" are two phrases well-known to the writers and readers of communiques. To the public, "officially secure" marks the completion of conquest. But to the infantry it is meaningless, save that it foretells of extensive probing for surviving Japs, and probing of the sort that produces a high death rate in proportion to the wounded. To us securing would come when we boarded ship.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

The Japanese in the caves had no desire to just let the issue lie. Mopping up efforts would continue for months as isolated groups emerged from their caves for one last stand against the Americans.

ABLE COMPANY CASUALTIES, JULY 9, 1944
Wounded:
Private Clyde F. Manson, Jr.

Total: 1

D+23

July 8, 1944

Another change in direction greeted us as a pre-dawn surprise.... Since the troops along the western coast had been slowed down by the counterattack and subsequent opposition, we were directed to cut westward again and seal off the pocket of resistance.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

General Schmidt, commanding the 4th Marine Division, decided to hold his right flank (the 25th Marines and 2/24) stationary, while the remainder swept towards the sea.

With the support of rocket-firing LCI's the 23rd Marines finished demolishing their cliff and hit the shoreline by midafternoon. The 2nd and 24th kept pace, all the while contending with difficult terrain, roadblocks, and stubborn Japanese with rifles and machine guns. The 2nd Marines, veterans of Guadalcanal, Tarawa, and three weeks of Saipan, could not recall a single day on which they killed more Japanese. 1/2 kept a morbid count and tallied roughly 800 Japanese accounted on this day by their battalion alone; one of their officers noted dryly that "hunting was exceptionally good."

Little opposition was encountered up until midday, and many civilians joyfully emerged from their hideouts as we scrambled down a cave-infested cliff line to the lowest level. Among those whom we released were two priests, several nuns, and many of their Chamorro followers. The Chamorros, though contact with travelers from Guam had been told that the Americans would treat them well. And in addition they have been assured by their priests that the arrival of the Marines would mean their liberation. Their joy gave us some indication of the welcome our brothers-in-arms were receiving at the same time from the people of Normandy.

While climbing down the cliff, a small group led by Lt. Joe Swoyer stumbled onto some concealed enemy who opened up at point-blank range. Swoyer saw the man beside him drop with a bulled through the head, and luckily managed to escape himself. When he got back to the remainder of the patrol, they had sounded a cry for a corpsman, to which cry he replied--"Never mind, it's too late. He caught it right through the head and he's gone." "But there's motion out there," replied a couple of men. Without looking again Swoyer repeated, "It's no use. I checked him and he's dead." "Not yet," answered the supposed dead man as he emerged from the woods, his head bloody but under his own power.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

A strong group of Japanese attempted to rush the right flank of 1/24, but were stopped cold by Major Roger G. B. Broome, commander of the regimental weapons company, who had moved into a protecting position with a pair of 37mm cannon and a few riflemen. This action, along with several other daring maneuvers over the past weeks, won Major Broome the Navy Cross.

The afternoon was far different and costly. Although we had been practically unopposed in our advance ever since the big attack, it became evident that many of the Jap defenders had not perished in it, but had retired to coastal fortifications. These beaches extending several miles northward from Tanapag were likely locations for a landing effort, and they were honeycombed with an intricate series of trenches, dugouts, and low-lying pillboxes. An observation plane swooped low and dropped a message telling of many enemy soldiers scurrying north along the beach, and just in defilade from us. But we were too close to call for any support from the air or ground.

We met very little opposition until we had approached withing a hundred yards of the water, for the Japs held their fire. But at the close range they opened up with all they had, stopped half the battalion short of the sea, and inflicted heavy casualties, including our final officer death, Lt. Al Santelli of Fordham football fame.

The tenacity with which they defended these last positions gave a clear indication of why the western coastal advance had temporarily bogged down. Ours was a comparatively small area, and with the aid of rapid firing tanks the remainder of the battalion sector was cleared out.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

That night, 1/24 was relieved by 2/2, and was sent to division reserve.

For most, the night was quiet. The men of 1/2, though, had a final challenge - a local banzai attack up a narrow draw took out three of their machine gun teams. The Marines were too close to the enemy to allow for artillery support, and had to rely on small arms and grenades. By morning, nearly 100 Japanese dead were strewn up and down the draw; the narrow confines meant corpses lying several deep in many places.

Mass suicides were usually an indication of Japanese desperation, and on Saipan, it was no exception. Even though caves still contained holdouts, the Marines knew that when the banzais started, resistance was coming to an end.

Among the Marine casualties this day was Private First Class DeWitt "Dee" Dietrich, of Able Company. PFC Dietrich saved the life of an unpopular sergeant off the coast of California while the company was training with small boats: the sergeant had panicked and fallen overboard, and Dietrich dove in after him (the sergeant did not know how to swim). Shortly after, the boat capsized, dumping everyone into the ocean. The entire squad spent the night dogpaddling and trying to stay afloat.

Dietrich turned 19 the day the company landed on Saipan. He is buried in Arlington National Cemetery.

...it was very depressing to have suffered so heavily at a time when we thought the organized opposition practically ended. That night good security added some forty more Japs who appeared confused as to our location and their own destination.

In all our wanderings we had yet to make direct contact with any 2nd Division troops. So it was thankfully and with some interest that we noted a long column of Marines coming along the road as dawn broke. They proved to be of the 2nd, having been on the march for two hours, and fulfilled our desires (but not theirs) by relieving us. So we toiled back up to the ridge line and camp we had vacated on the previous morning. There our relief status terminated abruptly after two hours, when we picked up and moved down to the east end of Marpi Airfield to reinforce the front or the night.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

ABLE COMPANY CASUALTIES, JULY 8, 1944Killed:
PFC DeWitt Landre "Dee" Dietrich. Colwyn, PA. Age 19. Gunshot wound, back.
PFC Jack C. Comer. Tillamook, OR. Remains unrecovered.

Wounded:
Captain Irving Schechter
Sergeant William W. Comer, Jr.
Sergeant Jack Tarleton Sayers
Corporal Kenneth Russell Gray
Corporal William J. Quinn (second wound)
PFC Robert Tierney
PFC Robert N. Harris
PFC James Walter Freeman
PFC Tom L. Johnson
PFC William Paul Loutzenhiser
PFC Tommy Lynchard
PFC Keith W. Thomas
Private Glen Marshall
Private Philip Valley, Jr.
Private Junior E. Jones
Private Lester C. "Rugged" Kincaid
Private James C. Fields (second wound)

Total: 19

D+22

July 7, 1944

Our S.O.P. [Standard Operating Procedure] for night security consisted of the hauling up of additional ammunition, hand grenades, and mortar illumination and explosive shells. It also involved the establishment of telephonic communication from all companies to the battalion C.P. as well as inter-company lines. Radio was available in an emergency, and at least one forward observer occupied a front line hole.

It was over the phone that Lt. Col. Lessing first intimated to us that this was to be the most publicized and memorable night of the Saipan operation. (Lt. Col. Lessing had switched from the Engineer Regiment to assume command of the battalion, thus enabling Lt. Col. Brunelli, who had been directing us most of the time following the death of Lt. Col. Schultz, to return to his position as regimental executive officer. Lt. Col. Lessing had been leading us since "D plus 18." He relayed the news that, based on prisoner-of-war accounts, there existed the distinct possibility of an immediate and strong counterattack, and we remained on the alert.

Throughout the night there was scattered fire as an occasional Jap attempted to slip through, or previously unnoticed soldiers and civilians emerged from their hiding places. This was not unusual, but the publicized pattern of the "banzai" attack grew clearer when below us we heard the jumble of many voices around 0400. Soon came the rattle of machine guns and we were convinced that the expected attack was materializing.

In the disposition for that night all the companies were on line, as usual, with "A" on the left, "C" in the middle, and "B: on the right--all companies well-stocked with ammunition, although it hadn't arrived until after nightfall. The graying dawn showed us just on the fringe of the attack whose main effort was directed along the low level ground toward Tanapag. Mortars, 37s, grenades, machine guns, and small arms stopped some 30-40 Nips in front of "C" Company before they could finish their "banzai" as they plunged into a hail of lead. In particular I recall one begrimed squatty nipper, shrieking and arms outstretched, whose guts disintegrated as a 37mm canister shell caught him squarely in the chest not twenty yards from the muzzle of the gun.

On the left "A" Company was piling them up in countable rows of up to six and eight, altogether disposing of close to a hundred. It was the attack we desired to eliminate cave-probing, and we emerged with but four or five lightly wounded men, well pleased at the ratio, and stimulated by our success.

Ours is not the publicized version of this frenzied, last ditch, and sake-influenced rush. The feature story and the main power centered on the flat terrain to the north of Tanapag which was held by some army units. The reasons for it I do not know, but the lines were quickly broken, and the drive was not spent until stopped by elements of the 10th Marines, the artillery regiment of the 2nd Division, who stemmed the remnants of the original 2000-3000 Jap starters.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire."

The 24th jumped off at 0930, continuing to head north. They had not been hard hit by the banzai attack; indeed, they even benefited from it as hundreds (if not thousands) of Japanese soldiers that had held defenses to their front now lay dead in the 27th Division's zone. Of course, the final advance would not be easy - not all of the enemy had participated in the attack, and those that remained were just as full of fight as they had been on previous days.

One hundred and fifty dead Nips was no cause for halting our perpetual motion, and by mid morning of "D plus 22" we were continuing northward along the western slope of the highest ridgeline. By vigorous and sweaty movement we stretched our already considerable lead in the "Marpi Point Marathon" as far as the higher echelons thought advisable, then dug in to await flank support.

In the afternoon we again witnessed the sympathy and pity which is inherent in all of us. While preparing our foxholes, a small patrol scouted out some flimsy shacks to our front. But while on the mission, some had heard the crying of wounded women and children, and the men pleaded for a chance to go out and bring them back. The memory of the ruse which killed Phil Wood and Ervin had not vanished, and permission was refused. Yet the men, fully realizing the possibilities of deception, continued to beg for a chance to go. Finally we relented, and another patrol went out cautiously and retrieved the wounded.

They included a mother, badly hurt, with week-old untreated wounds in which gangrene had set heavily, and three less-seriously wounded children. It was clear that the mother's life was ebbing fast, and that she had forced herself to remain alive for the sake of her children. To us, who offered all possible aid, the tragedy of this pain and suffering of innocent mother and child seemed almost as cruel as the loss of our comrades who understood the fight and were at least partially conditioned to it.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire"

On its left, the 23rd Marines were still held up by their cliff - the remainder of their advance route lay literally several hundred feet below them, on a coastal plain - so the 2nd Marines were assigned to fill the gap. The 24th and 25th advanced rapidly, outpacing the two regiments on the left. 1/24 encountered a large Japanese gun, cleverly hidden in a cave; the gunners would wheel the piece out for a round or two, then quickly drag it back into the cave before the Americans could respond with counterbattery fire. Eventually, the Japanese picked the wrong moment and trundled their gun out just as an American shell landed in the cave mouth.

As the area available to the Japanese diminished, increasing numbers of civilians surrendered to the Marines. Some enemy combatants disguised themselves in civilian clothing (in other cases, their ragged uniforms were indistinguishable from the clothes the Chamorros wore) and approached the Marines with hidden grenades or sticks of dynamite. The Marines, once bitten twice shy, took the civilians in cautiously.

At the day's end, the right flank had advanced several hundred yards, and were ordered to hold position until further notice. The left flank had barely budged.

The darkness was marked by our first bombing. For many minutes a solitary Japanese bomber cruised back and forth overhead, apparently driven away from the anchorages and their lucrative targets by the anti-aircraft fire and desirous of dumping their bombs with some effect. After a long stretch of waiting the plane finally loosed a string of six which fell some two hundred yards in front of and directly parallel to our lines. With our too-shallow foxholes,the concussion was strong, and although no real casualties resulted, our respect for bombing rose perceptibly.

- Captain Frederic Stott, 1/24, "Saipan Under Fire"

ABLE COMPANY CASUALTIES, JULY 7, 1944
None.