"The countless white crosses in mute witness stand / To man's blind indifference to his fellow man..."

With the exception of Bolduc, Corcoran, Grosch, Loutzenhiser, McCay, Knight, and Wood, these photographs have been kindly supplied by volunteers at the website www.findagrave.com. Thanks to all!

Cross Creek Cemetery #4, Fayetteville, NC.

Cpl. Lionel Bolduc, 4th Division Cemetery, Iwo Jima.

Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

Golden Gate National Cemetery, San Bruno, CA.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Long Island National Cemetery, Farmingdale, NY.

West Memorial Park Cemetery, Weaverville, NC.

Arlington National Cemetery, VA.

Arlington National Cemetery, VA.

St. Anne's Cemetery, Wall Township, NJ.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Woodlawn Memorial Park, Nashville TN.

Houston Cemetery, Colquitt, GA.

Shady Point Cemetery, Stony Point, OK.

Oak Ridge Cemetery, Orlando, FL.

Quantico National Cemetery, Quantico VA.

Massachusetts National Cemetery, Bourne, MA.

Maryland Veteran's Cemetery, Crownsville, MD.

Austin Memorial Park Cemetery, Austin TX.

Long Island National Cemetery, Farmingdale NY.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Rosehill Cemetery & Mausoleum, Chicago IL.

Quantico National Cemetery, Quantico VA.

Forest Lawn Cemetery, Norfolk VA.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery, Santa Nella Village, CA.

Southern Nevada Veteran's Cemetery, Boulder City, NV.

Shannon Cemetery, Shannon KY.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

McNeal Cemetery, McNeal AZ.

Green Hills Cemetery, Bumpus Mills, TN.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Hillview Cemetery, Alexander City AL.

Fort Logan National Cemetery, Denver CO.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Grafton National Cemetery, Grafton WV.

Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Leavenworth National Cemetery, Leavenworth KS.

Golden Gate National Cemetery, San Bruno, CA.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

Long Island National Cemetery, Farmingdale, NY

Culpeper National Cemetery, Culpeper VA.

Baltimore National Cemetery, Maryland.

Fort Bliss National Cemetery, El Paso, Texas.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

St. Theresa Cemetery, West Point, VA.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Minden Cemetery, Minden, NE.

Massachusetts National Cemetery, Bourne, MA.

Golden Gate National Cemetery, San Bruno, CA.

Arlington National Cemetery, Virginia.

Massachusetts National Cemetery, Bourne, MA.

Arlington National Cemetery, VA.

Florence National Cemetery, Florence, SC.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific.

Golden Gate National Cemetery, San Bruno, CA.

Bay Pines National Cemetery, Florida.

Calverton National Cemetery, Calverton, NY.

Fort Gibson National Cemetery, Muskogee, OK.


Wood National Cemetery, Milwaukee, WI.

National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific, HI.

Fairview Presbyterian Church Cemetery, Greenville, SC.

Santa Fe National Cemetery, New Mexico.

Ohio Western Reserve National Cemetery, Medina, OH.

...more.

Dog Company

Getting back into the swing of researching, since February is coming up - and February was a VERY busy month for our boys in Able Company (Namur in 1944, Iwo Jima in 1945) - I've been looking into the men who joined after that first battle.

These men were among the original members of the First Battalion, 24th Marines, but were in the battalion Weapons Company (Dog Company). When the Marine Corps reorganized, the heavy machine guns of the Weapons Company were distributed among the rifle companies, while the 81mm mortars were placed under the command of the battalion Headquarters Company. Therefore, it is likely that most of these men were machine gunners.

Each of the heavy M1917 MGs required a crew of seven: a corporal leading the team, a gunner, assistant gunner, and four ammo bearers. They carried two hand carts, one for the gun itself (which weighed in at over 100 pounds with its tripod) and one for ammunition. Each company wound up with six of the heavy guns, which augmented the firepower of its six light machine guns.

I don't know exactly what specific role each man played, but it would be my guess that most were added directly to the pool of machine gunners. Possible exceptions are noted.


William A. Peck, as a PFC. Eventually promoted to Corporal.
Wounded and evacuated from Iwo Jima, February 24, 1945

Peck was almost definitely a machine gun squad leader; George referred to himself at one point as "Peck's bad boy."




John W. Donahue, Jr. as a PFC. Later promoted to Sergeant.
Born 1921.
As far as I know, Donahue survived the war uninjured. He died in 1997.






Glenn Edgar Doster as a PFC. Later promoted to Corporal.
Born 1922, in Perrysburg Ohio.
Doster was awarded the Silver Star for gallantry in action on July 25, 1944.
He was wounded and evacuated from Iwo Jima, February 25 1945.
Doster died in 1978.




Lee R. Anderson, Jr. as a corporal. He hailed from Irving, Texas.
Anderson appears in a picture of Al Perry's rifle squad.
He was wounded and evacuated from Saipan on June 15, 1944. Though he missed Tinian while in the hospital, he returned to the company and served on Iwo Jima.




Keith W. Thomas as a private. Later promoted to PFC.
Thomas was transferred out of Able Company in July, 1944, reasons and destination unknown.






James H. Pritchett as a PFC. Later promoted to Corporal. He came from Forsyth, Georgia.
Pritchett was wounded and evacuated from Iwo Jima, February 20, 1945.





Joseph M. Peterpaul as a PFC. Later promoted to Corporal.
As far as I know, Peterpaul survived the war uninjured.






John A. Cuthbertson as a PFC, later promoted to Corporal. He was from Philadelphia, PA.
Cuthbertson was wounded and evacuated from Iwo Jima, February 27 1945.





Thomas Eugene Drake as Master Gunnery Sergeant. Later promoted to Second Lieutenant. Lived in San Diego, California.
Drake was a pre-war China Marine who served with the "Pogey Bait Sixth." He had seven years in the Corps by the time the 24th Marines was organized. Drake was a "mustang," or an officer promoted up from the ranks. He eventually led a platoon of Able Company on Iwo Jima.
Drake was wounded on February 26, 1945, but stayed on the line and survived the battle.

Lawrence J. Jaster as a PFC.
Jaster was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, June 16, 1944. He was transferred out of the unit for hospitalization and did not return.





Michael J. Graziadei as a Staff Sergeant. Later promoted to Technical Sergeant.
(T/Sgt. was a staff rank on the same pay grade as Gunnery Sergeant)
Graziadei actually joined Able Company in December, 1943. He was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, June 25 1944. He did not return to the company




Luca A. Durante as a PFC.
Durante was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, June 16, 1944. He was transferred out of the unit for hospitalization and did not return.





Edward DuBeck as a PFC. Later promoted to Corporal. He hailed from Philadelphia, PA.
DuBeck was possibly wounded twice and awarded a Silver Star.






Theodore Droszcz as a PFC.
Born November 11, 1916.
Droszcz was killed on July 24, 1944, on Tinian.






Armond D. Leisure as a corporal. Later promoted to sergeant. He lived in Pomona, California.
Leisure was born in 1913. In civilian life, he was a professional truck driver.
He was killed on Saipan, June 15, 1944.





Wallace W. Duncan as a PFC. He came from Charlotte, NC.
Duncan was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, July 6 1944. He returned to the company and served through Iwo Jima.






Jack Calvin Comer as a PFC. He was born in 1920, and lived in Tillamook, Oregon with his wife Elvina.
Comer was killed on Saipan, July 8 1944. His remains were never recovered.






David W. Brunjes as a PFC. He lived in Pilot, Missouri.
Brunjes was killed on Saipan, June 22, 1944. He is buried in the Punchbowl cemetery.







Alan Milton Smith as a PFC. He was born in 1916 and lived in Pennsylvania.
Smith was killed on Saipan, June 16 1944.
He is buried in the Punchbowl cemetery.






Peter Pecori as a PFC.
Pecori was wounded and evacuated from Iwo Jima, March 9, 1945. The island was declared secure that day, making him one of Able Company's last casualties.






Gerald F. Patterson as a PFC.
Patterson was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, June 22 1944. He did not return to the company.






Aldo Passante as a PFC. He lived in East Orange, NJ.
Passante was wounded and evacuated from Saipan on June 16, 1944.







Printis M. Parsons as a private. Later promoted to corporal.
Parsons was wounded and evacuated from Saipan on June 22, 1944. He returned to the company and fought on Iwo Jima, until he was wounded in the Meat Grinder on March 1, 1945.





Marion E. Lyon as a corporal.
Lyon was wounded twice on Iwo Jima; once on March 1 and again on March 7. The second time, he was evacuated and did not return.







William F. Savoy as a PFC.
Savoy was wounded and evacuated from Saipan on June 16, 1944.








PFC Russell G. Sanderlin as a PFC. Later promoted to Corporal. He was born in July, 1923.
Sanderlin was wounded and evacuated on Iwo Jima, March 16 1945.
He died in Oregon, in 1992.






Dominick Piccolomini as a PFC.
He was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, June 16 1944.







Louis O. Pendleton as a PFC.
Pendleton survived Saipan and Tinian without a scratch, and possibly made it through the war unscathed.






Hamilton T. Pendergast as a PFC. He hailed from Brooklyn, New York.
Pendergast was wounded on Saipan, June 15 1944. He was evacuated but returned to serve on Iwo Jima.






Anthony A. Pramberger as a PFC. Later promoted to corporal.
Pramberger was wounded and evacuated from Saipan, June 16, 1944.







William Ralph Pettyjohn as a PFC. He was from Marietta, GA.
Pettyjohn served on a heavy machine gun crew. He was wounded during the banzai attack on Tinian, July 25, 1944. He was hospitalized, and honorably discharged on June 2, 1945.





After considering this list, I'm willing to bet that Pramberger, Durante, Jaster, Passante, Piccolomini, Savoy, and Smith were all members of one heavy MG crew. Pramberger would have been the team leader, as the ranking NCO, with the other six as PFCs filling in the other positions.

Evidence?

George mentions:
"Before I got hit, [Tom Hurley and I] were going up a hill - the hill was cut practically going in half like a firebreak would be, and we were on one side. During the night they knocked the heavy machine gun out, and Hurley said, 'Come on, we'll go up and bring them back and bring the gun back.' We had no sooner started up, then believe it or not I saw the shell hit. I guess that's hard to believe, but at any rate, the Japanese had a couple 88s, German 88s - they fire flat trajectory - you can tell by sound and we knew since we survived the first one the next one was coming! Both Hurley and I escaped with nothing, had a couple guys in front of us that got killed, a guy alongside of us took a piece of shrapnel to the shinbone, it really hurt me as much as it did him. But what it did, it shook me a little goofy. Only in the sense that I could not control my emotions. I started to cry. I wasn't hurt, you know, nothing.... we never got to the gun or the men...."

I think George and the others were going after Pramberger's team. The "couple guys in front of us" were probably Corporal Albert Duryea and PFC John Manson, both of whom were killed by shell fragments.

Albert Benjamin Duryea











John Lloyd Manson











And finally, on a slightly lighter note: I think I found the elusive "Corporal Robbins" as named by Phil Wood in his letters and Fred Stott in his history of Saipan.

Lt. Wood: "Sgt. Tucker was in a hole on my left – he and Harry and Roy and two or three from Roy’s platoon and I gave the dugout a barrage of grenades – at a range of ten yards – they were deafening – Tuck and Cpl. Robbins charged first, but were driven back by fire."
[about fighting on Namur]

Capt. Stott: "Each company possessed a jeep and trailer with a two man team to operate and ferry the supplies from the quartermaster dump (and elsewhere) up to the men needing them. As Corporal Robbins, one of the supply men, put it -- "Give us a goddam jeep and we'll 'borrow' enough gas and gear to keep your _______ bellies and guns full!"

PFC Franklin C. Robbins, Dog Company - later Headquarters.

"This has been a sad time in a lot of ways."

Camp Pendleton, California
December 30, 1943

Dear Girls,

There is so much to say - somehow I’ve been unable to just sit down and scribble off any kind of note - things have been so rushed - “So Little Time” as J. P. Marquand says. And you’re not always in the mood to say things that are tender and loving.

This has been a sad time in a lot of ways. Of course, I am glad that we are at last under way. I am eager to be tempered in the heat of battle. I want to know the result of the last year and a half of work. I’m not sure that battle will show any results at all. I don’t think that it will have as momentous consequences for me, for my way of life and thought, as we of this generation have been led to believe. I think that I subconsciously expect to be shaken down to the marrow of my moral bones, and if battle should be anything less than “all quiet” then its effect should be slight. This is all surmise, of course; I have no way of knowing what battle will be like. The one thing I do want to find - expect to find - is proof of personal courage and competence under fire. I have no qualms about that. I know it will be there when I need it. But still the mind dwells on it. In idle moments now I find myself fighting imaginary battles - leading my men - hand to hand encounters with lone Japs fought desperately, in silence - stealthy night patrols which invariably, though rather childishly, bring me great glory.

It’s hard to explain my state of mind right now… perhaps not even necessary, because it’s so traditional. Take equal parts of nervous apprehension and the most poignant nostalgia, and you have it. Wondering, not knowing, even fearing what is to come, yet glad that it will be soon. Yes, fearing - not bullets or pain, but that through them I may somehow lose the great happiness that I have come to identify with life. For I have had much more than my share - I sing instinctively. Though Daddy and Rusty are gone, I still love them.

I keep thinking of the past - always with longing – Minturn Avenue – Rex the First and his game on the aqueduct after dinner - Gretchen’s white dress with wide, red embroidery - Shredded Wheat in the morning - sawing wood in the cellar - Mother and Daddy sitting on the patio outside my window talking in low tones, all night, it seemed - Gretchen looking for fairies under the Queen Anne’s Lace – Kim throwing spears of dried goldenrod taken from the lot across the street – selling the Literary Digest – the day the girl next door embarrassed me terribly by saying that I kissed her in the library, which I never did do! Tennis with Mike – playing, it seems amazing now, with Mother, and inwardly seething because she beat me. I used to be a Hell of a poor loser. Daddy laughing as he shook the old silver cocktail shaker with the battered spout that you had to hold your thumb over. Grandaddy standing by the radio that stood on the tall white bookcase and telling funny stories Watching Daddy shave in the bathroom when it was painted light blue and arguing about how to spell “promise.” The little love seat that we were all so proud of, and Mother appropriated – her one selfish trick – of establishing as her own the most comfortable chair in our living room. Remember the deck chair that rocked somehow?

The memories pour out – of Carlo, the dog that never slept, but always smelled – Aunt Is laughing about Sistie and Buzzie’s latest antics – the faint musty smell of warm brown shingles in the sun. Aunt Buck’s “grove” down by Broadway of half a dozen trees – Nana buying choke cherries by the cup, and Mother secretly but eagerly filling cup after cup perched precariously up on the roof. All this and volumes more of Minturn alone – before I was eleven - Christmases that were always happy and light-hearted and together, and all red balls and silver garlands… laurel over the fireplace, and presents rewarded by a kiss, however inadequate my blue box of powder bought at Jakobsen’s Drug Store might be - and now we are separated by distance, and more than distance.

And there is so little time to do so much remembering in… for I want to be sure I know what lies in back of me and what it means before I go on.

Now is the time to evaluate the proceeds of a third of a lifetime - to take stock of oneself, measure the capabilities and limitations - though I must be far from mature yet, for I can realize but few limitations in myself so far. I haven’t failed yet - though I haven’t tried to do much. Or was Rusty a failure?

My mind is in a state of uproar at times - questioning purposes, wondering just why I am here today. For I am certainly not fighting for any political theory - they are all too impermanent - not even for a way of life, for I have none that I know of - my only aim in this war is the extremely personal one of securing the safety of two charming women whom I love very dearly. The book says I should have more of a Holy Grail feeling - if that’s good, then I hope I get it.

What did I do on Christmas? – nothing much – I thought of going up to the Wings’, but decided against it, and stayed in my room. Christmas morning I opened my presents as soon as I awoke - shame on you, Mother, for thinking I would do otherwise. And then we got the word that we were to be packed and ready to go completely by noon on Christmas Day - which we did.

Thank you, dears, for your wonderful package - especially the pipe – which I remember asking for as we crossed third avenue going to see Gretchen - and the Bedside Esquire, which I now have to pull out of the grasping hands of one or another of my bunkies every night - and the socks which I shall wear for luck. Uncle Ham and Aunt Kit sent Woolcott’s Long, Long Ago among other things – but best of all, a handful of pictures - of them – us - the Vineyard, and some treasured ones of Daddy as a boy - the old days…. Gone are the Days. Fred with a package of goodies. Howard with some needed handkerchiefs, writing paper, and a volume of Mr. Tutt, lest I forget. Oh, and could you send me more of this paper, Mother, several tablets of it.

I had planned a big box of things for you all – Mexican shawls, perfumes, et al – but when I saw the ring it seemed just right for Gretchen – it is an aquamarine – and gold of course – but it made any further gifts impossible at the time. You’ll only be able to wear it on special occasions, formal afternoon, black dress and high heels, but I think that you could carry it off, dear. And it will accent your very lovely hands.

I’ve been working awfully hard lately - the usual thousand and one details - also I am the company’s loading officer, and have loaded our gear on each maneuver. I know quite a bit about the longshoreman’s trade now - our ships are new, and built for the job they are doing - though the crowded life in a transport is no exaggeration. The other night I figured out that 16 other officers sleep within an arm’s length of my sack. Usually you have to sleep in just your scivvy drawers – not even a sheet. And the ventilating fans and blowers whirr and whistle night and day… you can feel every step in the companionway overhead, and these lights are feeble and flickery.

A sad time in a lot of ways – the ending of almost a year of good times in California, for one thing – a year in which I learned a good deal about what is called fast living – or at least learned enough to know that I don’t care for it, or for the hollow but pretty women you meet – I wouldn’t trade Nan for this whole coast full of them.

Of some things I feel sure - and one is that it will be a fierce but short fight - I like that… a man can take almost anything for 76 hours and not have it affect him too much.

It can’t come too soon now - preparations are over and a deadly period of waiting has begun. I know we will all do well, for we are Marines, but I want to see it - and soon.

It is very late – “I will write more later, dear” quote Mother

Love,
Phil

P.S. I have your Christmas card pasted up in my locker, Gretch. Pinned up, you might say.

Muster Rolls

I've gone over the A Company muster rolls several times now. I'm missing a few months worth (March - May, 1944; August 1944 - January 1945) and some of the scanned pages are illegible (due to rushing on my part, and by ancient microfiche). After a lot of work, I put together a visual representation of the muster rolls.

Company A Casualty Roster.

As mentioned, I'm missing some pages (hopefully the archivists down there will look favorably upon my request to have them scanned and emailed - fingers crossed) and I couldn't enter too many details, but it does give a good sense of who made it and who did not. Included are the names of replacements who joined the company after (and sometimes during) their campaigns. The final casualty rate will likely be quite a bit higher, both on Tinian and Iwo Jima.

(Differentiation between the yellow and orange wound categories: ones marked in yellow were wounded in action, but not evacuated from the front line; orange means wounded and taken to a hospital. Some were returned after a few days, some never returned. DOW means "died of wounds" and indicates the man died after receiving medical attention.)

"The place is cold as the devil..."

New River, NC
December, 1942

Dear girls,

Well, I’m all set – in our hut here, that is, but we don’t start work until tomorrow. There has been so much wild scuttlebutt that you don’t really know what to believe, but from all soundings I’ve been making, the setup sounds very much as I thought it would be. We have a bunch of rookies, I think, though I haven’t seen them yet. And we will probably stay here at least two months training them. In fact, I am giving a series of lectures on chemical warfare – about which I know very little as yet.

The place is cold as the devil, and expensive eating, and way out in the middle of the pine and Spanish moss swamps; but they all seem to like it pretty well – especially for its informality – wear dungarees and boots all the time.

Sabini is shipping out tomorrow. Roy Wood is, strangely enough, in charge of the platoon next to mine. [Frank] Shattuck bunks next to me, but will soon be with his wife. There are for others of us in here, none of whom I knew very well before, but they seem like swell guys.

My train ticket down cost me [$] 6.08. How, I don’t know – but I didn’t get in here until eight last night, what with late trains, standing four hours for the bus and etc. It is late.

Love
Phil

First Letter Home

Yale Law School
Sunday Dec. 7, 1941

Dear Mother,

It’s here at last – all our vague hopes of my being able to stay out are gone; I feel sure I will be called by summer, though not before the end of the semester, certainly. I still refuse to volunteer, though there are some boys here who are going to.

It’s hard on you girls, I know; the delay in my education can do none of us any good. I wish I could be there just to talk it over with you. Needless to say, it leaves me very low – I had been hoping against hope that it would never come; it may well mean the end of much of the world that we knew. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.

My love to you both,
Phil