Chapter II: Part 2

... there is no doubt that the 106th Infantry Regiment of the 27th
Division was late in jumping off in the attack on the morning of 23
June--even though not so late as Holland Smith charged. On the 23d
and again on the 24th, the Army troops attacking Death Valley were
slow and faltering in their advance. According to the testimony of
General Jarman, who took over the division from Ralph Smith, the
unit leaders of the 106th Infantry were hesitant and apparently
confused. Although the Army troops in Death Valley sustained fairly
heavy casualties, the two Marine divisions on the flanks suffered
greater ones. Yet the Marines made considerable advances while the
165th Infantry registered only small gains--the 106th Infantry
almost none at all.

No matter what the extenuating circumstances were--and there were
several--the conclusion seems inescapable that Holland Smith had
good reason to be disappointed with the performance of the 27th
Infantry Division on the two days in question....

Back where the conflict was with the Japanese, the 4th Marine Division had overrun most of the Kagman Peninsula by the night of D+10. The shoreline cliffs provoked sobering thoughts in a young officer in the 24th Marines:

We were close to the northern shoreline of the peninsula. And right
there the Japs had dug a big emplacement. They hadn’t had time to
finish it, but we could see that it was situated so as to fire
right down the beach-line. Any troops landing on that beach would
have received a terrible enfilading fire from this gun position.
Not far from the emplacement were the guns that had been destined
to go into it: huge, 5-inch, dual-purpose naval guns. They were
deadly things, and I was glad the enemy had never gotten them into
action. Now they lay there on their wooden skids, thickly coated
with grease, wrapped in burlap--impotent.

This unfinished state of the Japanese defenses was, in fact, a critical factor in the final American victory on Saipan. The blockading success of far-ranging submarines of the U.S. Navy had drastically reduced the supplies of cement and other construction materials destined for elaborate Saipan defenses, as well as the number of troop ships carrying Japanese reinforcements to the island. Then the quick success of the Marshalls campaign had speeded up the Marianas thrust by three months. This was decisive, for “one prisoner of war later said that, had the American assault come three months later, the island would have been impregnable.”

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 87137
]

The 4th Marine Division encountered more than cane fields in the Kagman Peninsula--the cliffs near the ocean were studded with caves. A 20-year-old private first class in Company E, 2d Battalion, 23d Marines, Robert F. Graf, described the Marine system for dealing with these and the others that were found all through the bitter campaign:

The firepower was intense, and we were working our way up to
where the shots originated. Quite often there would be multi cave
openings, each protecting another. Laying down heavy cover fire,
our specialist would advance to near the mouth of the cave. A
satchel charge would then be heaved into the mouth of the cave,
followed by a loud blast as the dynamite exploded. Other times it
might be grenades thrown inside the cave, both fragment type which
exploded sending bits of metal all throughout the cave, and other
times [white] phosphorous grenades that burned the enemy.

Also the flame thrower was used, sending a sheet of flame into the
cave, burning anyone that was in its path. Screams could be heard
and on occasions the enemy would emerge from the caves, near the
entrance, we would call upon the tanks, and these monsters would
get in real close and pump shells into the opening.

Graf went on to picture the use of flame-throwing tanks, the ultimate weapon for dealing with the enemy deep in his hideouts. He continued:

Some of the caves had artillery mounted on tracks that could be
wheeled to the entrance, fired and pulled back, unobserved. There
were caves with reinforced metal doors that protected them from our
artillery. Perhaps a direct hit from a 16-inch naval gun could have
blasted it open, but nothing else.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 85167
]

A fellow rifleman from Graf’s company told him this story:

You should go up and see the huge cave that I was just in. It was
large and contained a completely equipped operating room, all the
medical equipment, surgical tools, etc. The tools were made from
German surgical steel. When the battalion and regimental doctors
were told about it, they almost went crazy over finding such
excellent equipment. Each doctor wanted some tools for his use.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 83566

_Some of the Japanese caves, such as this one, had been carefully reinforced. Marine riflemen move warily to inspect it._]

These attacks on caves were a tricky business, because of orders not to kill any civilians who were also inside many of them, hiding from the fighting. Graf recounted his experiences further:

Throughout the campaign we were taking prisoners.

Seldom were they Japanese soldiers, instead Korean and Chamorro
laborers, both men and women, who mostly worked in the sugar
cane fields and processing plants. Chamorros were natives of
the islands, while the Koreans, of course, were brought over as
forced labor. Approaching us, hands up, and smiling and bowing the
Koreans would say in understandable broken English, “Me Korean, not
Japanese.” Some Japanese civilians were also captured. The Japanese
tradition was that the male members of the family were the dominant
members. Several times when we tried to feed newly captured women
and children first, the male would shove them aside and demand to
be first for rations. A few raps to the chest with a rifle butt
soon cured them of that habit.

As the sick, scared, and often starving civilians would emerge from their hideouts, there were many pitiful scenes:

One sad incident I recall was when a captured civilian Japanese
woman came up to me. She was crying and when she got close to
me she started hitting me on the arm and pointing to my pack. I
did not know what she wanted until an interpreter came over and
explained that she wanted some food and water for her dead child.
She pointed to a wicker basket that contained her dead infant. I
gave her what she requested, and she placed the food and water in
the basket so that the child could have nourishment on the way to
meet the baby’s ancestors.

Physical conditions of many were pitiful. Every illness that we had
been briefed on was observed: leprosy, dengue fever, yaws and many
cases of elephantiasis. Most of them were skeleton thin, as they
had no nourishment for many days. Many were suffering from shock
caused by the shelling and bombing, and fright because they did not
have the vaguest idea as to what we would do to them. Civilians
caught in a war that was not of their making....

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 83266

_Marine talks a terrified Chamorro woman and her children into leaving her refuge._]

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 83013
]

One of the captured persons impressed Graf so very much that the memory was vivid many years later. A Japanese woman, obviously an aristocrat, probably a wife or mistress of a high-ranking officer, “was captured. She was dressed in traditional Japanese clothing: a brilliant kimono, a broad sash around the waist, hair combed, lacquered and spotlessly clean. Although,” as Graf remarked, “she knew not what her fate would be in the hands of us, the barbarians, she stood there straight, proud, and seemingly unafraid. To me, she seemed like a queen.”

Over on the west side of Saipan, the 2d Marine Division had a memorable day on 25 June. Ever since the landing, the towering peak of Mount Tapotchau had swarmed with Japanese artillery spotters looking straight down on every Marine move and then calling in precisely accurate fire on the American troops. Now, however, in a series of brilliant tactical maneuvers, with a battalion of the 8th Marines clawing up the eastern slope, a battalion of the 29th Marines (then attached to the 8th Marines) was able to infiltrate around the right flank in single file behind a screen of smoke and gain the dominating peak without the loss of a single man.

Meanwhile, back at Nafutan Point, the battalion of the 105th Infantry assigned to clean out the by-passed Japanese pockets had had continuous problems. The official Army account commented, “The attack of the infantry companies was frequently uncoordinated; units repeatedly withdrew from advanced positions to their previous night’s bivouacs; they repeatedly yielded ground they had gained.”

The stalemate came to a climax on the night of D+11. Approximately 500 of the trapped Japanese, all the able-bodied men who remained, passed “undetected” or “sneaked through” (as the Army later reported) the lines of the encircling battalion. The enemy headed for nearby Aslito airfield and there was chaos initially there. One P-47 plane was destroyed and two others damaged. The Japanese quickly continued on to Hill 500, hoping to reunite there with their main forces. What they found instead was the 25th Marines resting in reserve with an artillery battalion of the 14th Marines. The escaping Japanese were finished off the following morning.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 83989

_The 37mm gun was a workhorse for the Marines in a wide variety of firing missions. Those are Japanese bullet holes in its “shield.”_]

On the front lines in the center of the island, General Jarman, now in temporary command of the 27th Infantry Division, took direct action that same day (D+11). An inspection by two of his senior officers of the near edge of Death Valley revealed that battalions of the 105th Infantry “were standing still when there was no reason why they should not move forward.” That did it. Jarman relieved the colonel commanding the 106th and replaced him with his division chief of staff. (Nineteen other officers of the 27th Infantry Division were also relieved after the Saipan battle was over, although only one of them had commanded a unit in battle.)

While these developments were taking place in the upper echelons, the junior officers in the front lines had their own, more immediate, daily concerns. As the author recalled:

I had worked out a pre-sleep routine which I followed every night
without fail. Before I lay down, I would make careful mental notes
of where the company Command Post [CP] was and where my squad
leaders’ foxholes were. Then I would work out the rotation of the
watches with my CP group. Next came a check of my carbine to make
sure it was in perfect operating condition. When all this had been
done, I’d lie down, adjusting my helmet to serve as a pillow. Last,
and most important, was the placing of my weapons: my carbine lay
across my body so my hand would fall naturally on the trigger; my
combat knife was stuck in the ground where my right hand lay; and
my grenades were carefully arrayed at my left hand. Then I’d drift
off to sleep.

23-30 JUNE 1944]

For the next several days, the 27th Infantry Division probed and maneuvered and attacked at Hell’s Pocket, Death Valley, and Purple Heart Ridge. On 28 June, Army Major General George W. Griner, who had been quickly sent from Hawaii upon the relief of Ralph Smith, took over command of the division, so Jarman could revert to his previous assignment as garrison force commander. The 106th marked the day by eradicating the last enemy resistance in the spot that had caused so much grief: Hell’s Pocket.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 82260
]

The 2d Marine Division meanwhile inched northward toward the town of Garapan, meeting ferocious enemy resistance. Tipo Pali was now in 6th Marines’ hands. The 8th Marines encountered four small hills strongly defended by the enemy. Because of their size in comparison with Mount Tapotchau, they were called “pimples.” Each was named after a battalion commander. Painfully, one by one, they were assaulted and taken over the next few days.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 83281

_With the Japanese well dug in, hidden in their well camouflaged positions, a satchel charge of high explosive is tossed into their laps. If any of them bolt out, the Marine riflemen are ready._]

Near Garapan, about 500 yards to the front of the 2d Marines’ lines, an enemy platoon on what was named “Flame Tree Hill” was well dug in, utilizing the caves masked by the bright foliage on the hill. The morning of 29 June, a heavy artillery barrage as well as machine gun and mortar fire raked the slopes of the hill. Then friendly mortars laid a smoke screen. This was followed by a pause in all firing. As hoped, the enemy raced from their caves to repel the expected attack. Suddenly the mortars lobbed high explosives on the hill. Artillery shells equipped with time fuses and machine gun and rifle fire laid down another heavy barrage. The enemy, caught in the open, was wiped out almost to a man.

To the right, the 6th Marines mopped up its area and now held the most commanding ground, with all three of its battalions in favorable positions. In fact, since replacement drafts had not yet arrived, the 2d Marine Division had all three of its infantry regiments deployed on line. Thus it was necessary for its commander, Major General Watson, to organize a division reserve from support units.

The pressure on manpower was further illustrated by the fact that, in this difficult terrain, “eight stretcher bearers were needed to evacuate one wounded Marine.” In addition, there was, of course, the deep-seated psychological and physical pressure from the constant, day after day, close combat. “Everyone on the island felt the weight of fatigue settling down.”

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 82608
]

On the 4th Division front, the drive forward was easier, but its left flank had to be bent sharply backward toward the 27th Infantry Division. By nightfall on 28 June, the Marine division’s lines formed an inverted L with the 23d Marines and part of the 165th Infantry facing north, while the rest of the Army regiment and two battalions of the 24th Marines faced west. This strange alignment was a focus of attention when each battalion was issued its nightly overlay from corps headquarters showing the lines of the corps at that time, so that friendly fire from artillery and supporting Navy destroyers would not hit friendly troops. Once again, enemy planes raided, hitting both the airfield and anchorage. As usual, enemy night patrols were active.

The end of the saga of Nafutan Point, way to the rear, had come the day before (27 June). The Japanese breakout had left almost no fighting men behind there. Accordingly, the battalion of the 105th Infantry at last overran the area after enduring a final banzai charge. The soldiers found over 500 enemy bodies in the area, some killed in the charge and some by their own hand.

D+15 (30 June) marked a good day for the Army. After fierce fighting, the 27th Infantry Division finally burst through Death Valley, captured Purple Heart Ridge, and drew alongside the 8th Marines. Holland Smith gave due recognition: “No one had any tougher job to do.” The gaps on the flanks with the 2d and 4th Marine Divisions were now closed. In doing so, the Army had sustained most of the 1,836 casualties inflicted upon it since D-Day. The 4th Marine Division, however, had suffered 4,454 casualties to date, while the 2d Marine Division had lost 4,488 men.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 85222

_Moving on the double, Marines go yard by yard through skeletal Garapan, flushing out the Japanese defenders._]

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 87109
]

The corps front now ran from Garapan, past the four pimples, to the 4th Marine Division’s left boundary. Here, it ran sharply northward to Hill 700. From there it ran to the east coast. Central Saipan was in American hands. Most of the replenishment supplies had been unloaded. The enemy had begun withdrawing to his preplanned final defensive lines. The Army’s official history summed up these days’ costly victories this way, “The battle for central Saipan can be said to have come to a successful end.”

2-4 JULY 1944]

_D+16-D+19, 1-4 July_

Now Holland Smith turned his attention to operation plans to drive through the northern third of Saipan and bring the campaign to a successful, albeit a bloody, conclusion. His next objective line ran from Garapan up the west coast to Tanapag and then eastward across the island. Past Tanapag, near Flores Point, the 2d Marine Division would be pinched out and become the corps reserve. That would leave the 27th Infantry Division and the 4th Marine Division to assault General Saito’s final defenses.

The easiest assignment during this period fell to the 4th Marine Division on the east coast. It advanced 3,500 yards against light opposition, veering to its left, ending on 4 July with its left flank some 2,000 yards north of Tanapag, right on the west coast.

As usual, what looked like “light opposition” to General Schmidt in his divisional CP looked very different to that tired, tense lieutenant who described a painfully typical rifle platoon situation on D+16:

I took the rest of my men and we proceeded--very cautiously--to
comb the area. It was a terrible place: the rocks and creepers were
so interwoven that they formed an almost impenetrable barrier;
visibility was limited to a few feet. After what had happened to
[my wounded sergeant], the atmosphere of the place was very tense.
We located some rock crevices we thought the Japs might be in, and
I tried calling to them in our Japanese combat phrases to come out
and surrender. This proved fruitless, and it let the Japs know
exactly where we were, while we had no idea of their location. Then
I tried to maneuver our flamethrower man into a position where he
could give the crevice a blast without becoming a sitting-duck
target himself. Because of the configuration of the ground, this
proved impossible.

Right about now, there was a shot off to our left. We started over
to investigate and all hell broke loose! A Jap automatic weapon
opened up right beside us. We all hit the deck automatically. No
one was hit (for a change), but we couldn’t spot the exact location
of the weapon (as usual). I called to the man who’d been over on
the left flank. No answer. What had happened to him?

At this point more enemy fire spattered around the small group of Marines. The source seemed to be right on top of them, so the lieutenant told two of his men to throw some grenades over into the area he thought the fire was coming from--about 20 feet away. Under cover of that, the Marines worked a rifleman forward a couple of yards to try to get a bead on the Japanese, but he was unable to spot them and the enemy fire seemed to grow heavier.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 84885

_The only way to deal with some Japanese in their well-protected defenses was to blast them with a flame-thrower._]

Now the lieutenant began to get very worried:

Here we were--completely isolated from the rest of the
company--only half a dozen of us left--our flank man had
disappeared and now we were getting heavy fire from an uncertain
number of Japs who were right in our middle and whom we couldn’t
locate! Some of the men were getting a little jittery I could see,
so I tried to appear as calm and cool as I could (although I didn’t
feel that way inside!). I decided to move back to the other end of
the hilltop and report to [our company commander] on the phone.
If I could get his OK, I would then contact [another one of our
platoons] for reinforcements, and we could move back into this area
and clean out the Jap pocket.

Pressing hard against the Japanese defenses constantly resulted in these kinds of face-to-face encounters. Three days later (D+19), Lieutenant Colonel Chambers observed a memorable act of bravery:

Three of our tanks came along the road.... They made the turn
to the south and then took the wrong turn, which took them off
the high ground and into a cave area where there were literally
hundreds of Japs, who swarmed all over the tanks. We were watching
and heard on the radio that (the lieutenant) who commanded the
tanks was hollering for help, and I don’t blame him. They had
formed a triangle and covered each other with the co-axial guns as
best as they could.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 85221

_He may have started out sitting on a dud 16-inch Navy shell, enjoying a smoke while emptying sand from his “boondockers,” but by the end of the campaign, three weeks later, he had had too little sleep, too many fire fights, and too many buddies dead._]

By Richard Gibney in Marine Corps Art Collection
]

The commanding officer of the 1st Battalion, 25th Marines, Lieutenant Colonel Hollis U. (“Musty”) Mustain was nearest the crisis. Chambers went on:

Mustain’s executive officer was a regular major by the name of
Fenton Mee. Musty and I were together, and when radio operators
told us what was going on, Musty turned to Mee and said, “Get some
people there and get those tanks out.”

Mee turned around to his battalion CP, who were all staff people.
He just pointed and said, “Let’s get going.” He turned and took
off. I can still see his face--he figured he was going to get
killed. They got there and the Japs pulled out. This let the tanks
get out, and they were saved. It was one of the bravest things I
ever saw people do.

Chambers also noted that, by D+19, out of 28 officers and 690 enlisted men in his rifle companies at the start of the campaign, he now had only 6 officers and 315 men left in those companies. Counting his headquarters company, he had just 468 men remaining of the battalion’s original total strength of 1,050, so one rifle company simply had to be disbanded. The grim toll was repeated in another battalion which had had 22 out of 29 officers and 490 enlisted men either killed or wounded in action.

Next to the 4th Marine Division was the 27th Infantry Division in the center of the line of attack. It, too, had a far easier time than in the grinding experiences it had just come through. Its advance also veered left, and was “against negligible resistance” with “the enemy in full flight.” Thus it reached the west coast, pinching off the 2d Marine Division and allowing it to go into reserve.

5-8 JULY 1944]

There was a different story in the 2d Marine Division zone of action at the beginning of this period. On 2 July Flametree Hill was seized and the 2d Marines stormed into Garapan, the second largest city in the Mariana Islands. What the regiment found was a shambles; the town had been completely leveled by naval gunfire and Marine artillery.

The official Marine history pictures the scene:

Twisted metal roof tops now littered the area, shielding Japanese
snipers. A number of deftly hidden pillboxes were scattered among
the ruins. Assault engineers, covered by riflemen, slipped behind
such obstacles to set explosives while flamethrowers seared the
front. Assisted by the engineers, and supported by tanks and 75mm
self-propelled guns of the regimental weapons company, the 2d
Marines beat down the scattered resistance before nightfall. On
the beaches, suppressing fire from the LVT(A)s of the 2d Armored
Amphibian Battalion silenced the Japanese weapons located near the
water.

Moving past the town, the 2d Marine Division drove towards Flores
Point, halfway to Tanapag. Along the way, with filthy uniforms,
stiff with sweat and dirt after over two weeks of fierce fighting,
the Marines joyfully dipped their heads and hands into the cool
ocean waters.

With the other two divisions already having veered their attack to the left and reached the northwest coast, the 2d Marine Division was now able to go into corps reserve, as planned, on 4 July. (Holland Smith, seeing the end in sight on Saipan, wanted this division rested for the forthcoming assault on neighboring Tinian Island.)

The Japanese, meanwhile, were falling back to a final defensive line north of Garapan. The American attack of the preceding weeks had not only shattered their manpower, their artillery, and their tanks, but the enemy also was desperate for food. “Many of them had been so pressed for provisions that they were eating field grass and tree bark.”

_D+20-D+23, 5-8 July_

Any Japanese “withdrawal” meant that some of their men were left behind in caves to fight to the death. This tactic produced again and again for the American troops the life-threatening question of whether there were civilians hidden inside who should be saved. There was a typical grim episode at this time for First Lieutenant Frederic A. Stott, in the 1st Battalion, 24th Marines:

On this twenty-first day of the battle we trudged along a
circuitous route to relieve the 23d Marines for an attack scheduled
for 1300. A normal artillery preparation preceded it, followed by
the morale-lifting rockets, but neither they nor mortar fire could
eliminate many cave-dwelling Japs. And again the cost was heavy.
Using civilian men, women, and children as decoys, the Jap soldiers
managed to entice a volunteer patrol forward into the open to
collect additional civilian prisoners. A dozen men from A Company
were riddled as the ruse succeeded.

This kind of treacherous action by the Japanese was demonstrated in a different form on the following day (D+21). Lieutenant Colonel Chambers described how he dealt summarily with it--and, by contrast how his men treated genuine civilians who had been hiding:

... a few of the Japs had played possum by smearing blood of other
Japs on themselves and lying still as the Marines came up. However,
within the battalion my instructions were “if it didn’t stink,
stick it.” [My officer] just laughed and said the Marines had
bayoneted all the bodies. You had to do it!

We also picked up several civilian prisoners, including some women
and children. The thing that really got to me was watching these
boys of mine; they’d take all kinds of risks; they’d go into a
cave never knowing whether there would be soldiers in there, to
bring out these civilians. The minute they got them out, they began
to feed them, give them part of their rations, and offer their
cigarettes to the men. It made you feel proud of the boys for doing
this.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 88403
]

Once the 2d Marine Division became corps reserve, it was obvious to General Smith that the time was ripe for a banzai attack. He duly warned all units to be alert, and paid a personal visit on 6 July to General Griner, of the 27th Infantry Division, to stress the likelihood of an attack coming down the coastline on the flat ground of the Tanapag Plain.

General Saito was now cornered in his sixth (and last) command post, a miserable cave in Paradise Valley north of Tanapag. The valley was constantly raked by American artillery and naval gunfire; he had left only fragmentary remnants of his troops; he was himself sick, hungry, and wounded. After giving orders for one last fanatical banzai charge, he decided to commit hara-kiri in his cave. At 10 a.m. on 6 July, facing east and crying “Tenno Haika! Banzai! [Long live the Emperor! Ten thousand ages!],” he drew his own blood first with his own sword and then his adjutant shot him and Admiral Nagumo in the head with a pistol, but not before he said, “I will meet my staff in Yasakuni Shrine 3 a.m., 7 July!” This was to be the time ordered for the commencement of the final attack.

The ultimate outcome was clear to Saito: “Whether we attack, or whether we stay where we are, there is only death.”

The threat of a mad, all-out enemy charge was nothing new to the troops on Saipan. A rifleman recounted one such experience:

Whenever we cornered the enemy and there was no way out, we faced
the dreaded banzai attack. The 23d Marines had a few of these
during our Saipan adventure, as did all the other outfits. I
dreaded these attacks and yet welcomed them, which is quite a
paradox. They generated a great deal of fear but, when it was over,
that particular sector was Jap-free.

For hours, we could hear them preparing for their banzai attack, as
it was the end for them and they knew it. Because it was against
their heritage, their training, and their belief, they would not
surrender. All that was left was a final charge, a pouring in of
all their troops in one concentrated place with their pledge to
take as many of us with them as possible.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 81846

_Navy corpsmen risked their lives daily to treat wounded Marines._]

His account continued with a dramatic description of the tense waiting he endured, while he listened to the enemy “yells and screams going on for hours.” The noise increased as Marine artillery and mortars, pounding in the direction of the Japanese sounds, added to the deafening din. The Marines were waiting in their foxholes with clips of ammo placed close at hand so that they could reload fast, fixing their bayonets onto their rifles, ensuring that their knives were loose in their scabbard all in anticipation of the forthcoming attacks. Listening to the screaming, all senses alert, many of the men had prayers on their lips as they waited. Unexpectedly, there was silence, a silence that signaled the enemy’s advance. Then:

Suddenly there is what sounded like a thousand people screaming all
at once, as a hoard of “mad men” broke out of the darkness before
us. Screams of “Banzai” fill the air, Japanese officers leading
the “devils from hell,” their swords drawn and swishing in circles
over their heads. Jap soldiers were following their leaders, firing
their weapons at us and screaming “Banzai” as they charged toward
us.

Our weapons opened up, our mortars and machine guns fired
continually. No longer do they fire in bursts of three or five.
Belt after belt of ammunition goes through that gun, the gunner
swinging the barrel left and right. Even though Jap bodies build up
in front of us, they still charged us, running over their comrades’
fallen bodies. The mortar tubes became so hot from the rapid fire,
as did the machine gun barrels, that they could no longer be used.

Although each [attack] had taken its toll, still they came in
droves. Haunting memories can still visualize the enemy only a few
feet away, bayonet aimed at our body as we empty a clip into him.
The momentum carries him into our foxhole, right on top of us.
Then pushing him off, we reload and repeat the procedure.

Bullets whiz around us, screams are deafening, the area reeks with
death, and the smell of Japs and gunpowder permeate the air. Full
of fear and hate, with the desire to kill ... [Our enemy seems to
us now to be] a savage animal, a beast, a devil, not a human at
all, and the only thought is to kill, kill, kill.... Finally it
ends.

This was the wild chaos that General Smith predicted as the final convulsive effort of the Japanese. And it came indeed in the early morning hours of 7 July (D+22), the climactic moment of the battle for Saipan. The theoretical Japanese objective was to smash through Tanapag and Garapan and reach all the way down to Charan-Kanoa. It was a “fearful charge of flesh and fire, savage and primitive.... Some of the enemy were armed only with rocks or a knife mounted on a pole.”

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 84474

_The cost of battle. Fellow Marines mourn as a buddy is to be buried._]

The avalanche hit the 105th Infantry, dug in for the night with two battalions on the main line of resistance and the regimental headquarters behind them. However, those two forward battalions had left a 500-yard gap between them, which they planned to cover by fire.

The Japanese found this gap, poured through it, and headed pell-mell for the regimental headquarters of the 105th. The men of the frontline battalions fought valiantly but were unable to stop the banzai onslaught.

Three artillery battalions of the 10th Marines behind the 105th were the next target. The gunners could not set their fuses fast enough, even when cut to four-tenths of a second, to stop the enemy right on top of them. So they lowered the muzzles of their 105mm howitzers and spewed ricochet fire by bouncing their shells off the foreground. Many of the other guns could not fire at all, since Army troops ahead of them were inextricably intertwined with the Japanese attackers. However, other Marines in the artillery battalions fired every type of small weapon they could find. The fire direction center of one of their battalions was almost wiped out, and the battalion commander was killed. The cane field to their front was swarming with enemy troops. The guns were overrun and the Marine artillerymen, after removing the firing locks of their guns, fell back to continue the fight as infantrymen.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 84474

_A Marine moves out to catch up with his unit after he has covered a dead comrade with a poncho liner and marked his position with his bayoneted rifle._]

The official history of the 27th Infantry Division recounts sadly the reactions of its fellow regiments when the firestorm broke on the 105th. The men of the nearby 165th Infantry chose that morning to “stand where they were and shoot Japs without any effort to move forward.” By 1600 that afternoon, after finally starting to move to the relief of the shattered 105th, the 165th “was still 200 to 300 yards short” of making contact. This tardiness was unfortunately matched by “the long delay in the arrival of the 106th Infantry” to try to shore up the battered troops of the 105th.

The extraordinarily bitter hand-to-hand fighting finally took the momentum out of the Japanese surge, and it was stopped at last at the CP of the 105th some 800 yards south of Tanapag. By 1800 most of the ground lost had been regained.

It had been a ghastly day. The 105th Infantry’s two battalions had suffered a shocking 918 casualties while killing 2,295 Japanese. One of the Marine artillery battalions had 127 casualties, but had accounted for 322 of the enemy. A final count of the Japanese dead reached the staggering total of 4,311, some due to previous shell-fire, but the vast majority killed in the banzai charge.

Amidst the carnage, there had been countless acts of bravery. Two that were recognized by later awards of the Army Medal of Honor were the leadership and “resistance to the death” of Army Lieutenant Colonel William J. O’Brien, commander of a battalion of the 105th Infantry, and one of his squad leaders, Sergeant Thomas A. Baker.

Three Marines each “gallantly gave his life in the service of his country” and were posthumously awarded the Navy Medal of Honor. They were Private First Class Harold C. Agerholm, Private First Class Harold G. Epperson, and Sergeant Grant F. Timmerman.

The 3d Battalion, 10th Marines, which had fought so tenaciously in the banzai assault, received the Navy Unit Commendation. Four years later, the 105th Infantry and its attached tank battalion were awarded the Army Distinguished Unit Citation.

While attention centered on the bloody battle on the coast, the 23d Marines was attacking a strong Japanese force well protected by caves in a cliff inland. The key to their elimination was an ingenious improvisation. In order to provide fire support, truck-mounted rocket launchers were lowered over the cliff by chains attached to tanks. Once down at the base, their fire, supplemented by that of rocket gunboats off shore, snuffed out the enemy resistance.

The next day, D+23, 8 July, saw the beginning of the end. The Japanese had spent the last of their unit manpower in the banzai charge; now it was time for the final American mop-up. LVTs rescued men of the 105th Infantry who had waded out from the shore to the reef to escape the Japanese. Holland Smith then moved most of the 27th Infantry Division into reserve, and put the 2d Marine Division back on the line of attack, with the 105th Infantry attached. Together with the 4th Marine Division, they swept north towards the end of the island.

Along the coast there were bizarre spectacles that presaged a macabre ending to the campaign. The official Marine history pictured the scene:

The enemy pocketed in the area had destroyed themselves in suicidal
rushes from the high cliffs to the rocky beach below. Many were
observed, along with hundreds of civilians, wading out into the sea
and permitting themselves to be drowned. Others committed hara-kiri
with knives, or killed themselves with grenades. Some officers,
using their swords, decapitated many of their troops.

[Sidebar (page 30): Medal of Honor Recipients

Private First Class Harold Christ Agerholm was born on 29 January 1925, in Racine, Wisconsin. “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving with the Fourth Battalion, Tenth Marines, Second Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces on Saipan, Marianas Islands, 7 July 1944. When the enemy launched a fierce, determined counterattack against our positions and overran a neighboring artillery battalion, Private First Class Agerholm immediately volunteered to assist in the effort to check the hostile attack and evacuate our wounded. Locating and appropriating an abandoned ambulance jeep, he repeatedly made extremely perilous trips under heavy rifle and mortar fire and single-handedly loaded and evacuated approximately 45 casualties, working tirelessly and with utter disregard for his own safety during a gruelling period of more than 3 hours. Despite intense, persistent enemy fire, he ran out to aid two men whom he believed to be wounded Marines, but was himself mortally wounded by a Japanese sniper while carrying out his hazardous mission. Private First Class Agerholm’s brilliant initiative, great personal valor and self-sacrificing efforts in the face of almost certain death reflect the highest credit upon himself and the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”

Private First Class Harold Glenn Epperson was born on 14 July 1923, in Akron, Ohio. “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving with the First Battalion, Sixth Marines, Second Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces on the Island of Saipan in the Marianas, on 25 July 1944. With his machine-gun emplacement bearing the full brunt of a fanatic assault initiated by the Japanese under cover of predawn darkness, Private First Class Epperson manned his weapon with determined aggressiveness, fighting furiously in the defense of his battalion’s position and maintaining a steady stream of devastating fire against rapidly infiltrating hostile troops to aid ... in breaking the abortive attack. Suddenly a Japanese soldier, assumed to be dead, sprang up and hurled a powerful hand grenade into the emplacement. Determined to save his comrades, Private First Class Epperson unhesitatingly chose to sacrifice himself and, diving upon the deadly missile, absorbed the shattering violence of the exploding charge in his own body. Stouthearted and indomitable in the face of certain death, Private First Class Epperson fearlessly yielded his own life that his able comrades might carry on.... His superb valor and unfaltering devotion to duty throughout reflect the highest credit upon himself and upon the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”

Sergeant Grant Frederick Timmerman was born on 14 February 1919, in Americus, Kansas. “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty as Tank Commander serving with the Second Battalion, Sixth Marines, Second Marine Division, during action against enemy Japanese forces on Saipan, Marianas Islands, on 8 July 1944. Advancing with his tank a few yards ahead of the infantry in support of a vigorous attack on hostile positions, Sergeant Timmerman maintained steady fire from his antiaircraft sky mount machine gun until progress was impeded by a series of enemy trenches and pillboxes. Observing a target of opportunity, he immediately ordered the tank stopped and, mindful of the danger from the muzzle blast as he prepared to open fire with the 75mm, fearlessly stood up in the exposed turret and ordered the infantry to hit the deck. Quick to act as a grenade, hurled by the Japanese, was about to drop into the open turret hatch, Sergeant Timmerman unhesitatingly blocked the opening with his body, holding the grenade against his chest and taking the brunt of the explosion. His exceptional valor and loyalty in saving his men at the cost of his own life reflect the highest credit upon Sergeant Timmerman and the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.” ]

[Sidebar (page 31): Navy Chaplains

Two types of non-combatants are attached to Marine units: members of the Navy Medical Corps and Navy Chaplain Corps. Whenever the Marines are in combat, they are well tended to in body and soul on the front lines. Navy Lieutenant John H. Craven, Chaplain Corps, earned the Bronze Star for his actions under fire on Saipan. Later he summarized activities:

“In combat our main action was to go from place to place, unit to unit, and start out early in the morning and go till dark, just visiting one unit after the other and many times just have a very brief service. We had some very small hymn books ... and some Testaments I could carry in my map case, and we would just gather a few men together in a bomb crater or defilade ... and I would have one service after the other. Sometimes we had twelve, thirteen, or fourteen of those in one day, especially on Sunday....

“Then we had to take our turn at the cemetery. Each chaplain from different units would go down and take his turn for burial. We had a brief committal service for each one as they brought the bodies in. And I set myself up to try to keep up with all of the men of our units: where they were, whether they were in the hospital. I worked closely with a sergeant major and it was amazing how we were able to keep up with men, and when they were killed and when and where they were buried.”

Craven kept a notebook listing all the casualties, and he would keep that current from day to day. Each evening he would compare notes with the regimental sergeant major. It was a help to any chaplain to know who were casualties and where, and to report and work with their friends, and it was also a help to the sergeant major because it verified reports he got.

When Chaplain Craven and the other chaplains returned to the rear areas with their units, they started writing letters to the families of everyone who was killed in the regiment, and added their letters to those the commanding officers were required to write.

One other regimental chaplain used a special type of ministration. He had a canvas gas-mask carrier slung over each shoulder. In one carrier he had Scotch whiskey, in the other fried chicken. As he knelt by each young, frightened, wounded Marine, he was invariably asked, “Am I going to be O.K.?” “Sure you are!” was the cheerful answer. “While you are waiting to be evacuated, would you rather have a drumstick or a wing?” The young Marine would be so surprised he would forget about himself. Then, when the chaplain asked if he wanted to wash it down with a swig of Scotch, he couldn’t believe he was hearing correctly amidst all the confusion, noise, and death all around him.

A young doctor, hearing about this chaplain, said, “That man probably saved more young lives from dying of shock than will ever be known.”

_The Saipan cemetery was dedicated after the battle._] ]

_D+24, 9 July_

It was to be the final day of a long, grueling campaign. The 6th and 8th Marines came down from the hills to the last western beaches, while the 4th Marine Division, with the 2d Marines attached, reached Marpi Point, the northern end of the island.

There a final drama of horror was played out. Lieutenant Colonel Chambers watched, amazed:

During this day as we moved along the cliffs and caves, we
uncovered civilians all the time. The Jap soldiers would not
surrender, and would not permit the civilians to surrender. I saw
with my own eyes women, some carrying children, come out of the
caves and start toward our lines. They’d be shot down by their own
people. I watched any number of women carrying children come down
to the cliffs that dropped to the ocean.

They were very steep, very precipitous. The women would come down
and throw the children into the ocean and jump in and commit
suicide. I watched one group at a distance of perhaps 100 yards,
about eight or ten civilian men, women and children get into a
little huddle and blow themselves up.... It was a sad and terrible
thing, and yet I presume quite consistent with the Japanese rules
of Bushido.

Lieutenant Stott in that same division witnessed other unbelievable forms of self-destruction:

Interpreters were summoned, and they pleaded by amplifier for the
civilians to come forward in surrender. No movement followed....
The people drew closer together into a compact mass. It was
still predominantly civilians, but several in uniform could be
distinguished circling about in the throng and 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
kinfolk, who tossed grenades into the milling throng of men,
women, and children, and then dived into the sea from which escape
was impossible. The exploding grenades cut the mob into patches of
dead, dying, and wounded, and for the first time we actually saw
water that ran red with human blood.

With this kind of fanaticism characterizing the Japanese, it is not surprising that 23,811 of the enemy were known dead, with uncounted thousands of others charred by flamethrowers and sealed forever in their caves. Only 736 prisoners of war were taken, and of these 438 were Koreans. American casualties numbered 3,225 killed in action, 13,061 wounded in action, and 326 missing in action.

The island was officially declared “secured” at 1615 on 9 July (although “mopping up” continued afterwards). The 4th Marine Division was later awarded the Presidential Unit Citation for its “outstanding performance in combat” on Saipan and its subsequent assault on the neighboring island of Tinian.

_Saipan’s Legacy_

The campaign on Saipan had brought many American casualties, and it also heralded the kind of fighting which would be experienced in subsequent operations in the Central and Western Pacific in the days that lay ahead in the Pacific War. Holland Smith declared it “the decisive battle of the Pacific offensive” for it “opened the way to the home islands.” Japanese General Saito had written that “the fate of the Empire will be decided in this one action.” A Japanese admiral agreed, “Our war was lost with the loss of Saipan.” It had truly been a “strategic strike” for the United States.

The proof of these fundamental judgements was dramatized four months later, when 100 B-29 bombers took off from Saipan bound for Tokyo.

There were other fateful results. The United States now had a secure advanced naval base for further punishing strikes close to enemy shores. Emperor Hirohito was now forced to consider a diplomatic settlement of the war. The militaristic General Tojo, the Premier, and his entire cabinet fell from power on 18 July, nine days after Saipan’s loss.

The lessons learned in this campaign would be observed in future American operations, as flaws were analyzed and corrected. The clear need to improve aviation support for the ground troops led directly to the better results in the Philippine Islands and on Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The artillery-spotting missions flown by VMO-2 and -4, set a pattern for the use of the light planes in the future.

Naval gunfire support was also closely reviewed. General Saito had written, “If there just were no naval gunfire, we feel we could fight it out with the enemy in a decisive battle.” While more than 8,500 tons of ammunition were fired by U.S. Navy ships, the flat trajectory of the naval guns “proved somewhat limiting,” as the shells didn’t have the plunging and penetrating effect which was needed against Japanese strongholds.

Finally, there were lessons learned from the supply confusion that had marred the early days on the beaches and hadn’t improved much since the days of the Guadalcanal landing. Logistic problems had arisen because, once a beach was in friendly hands, the ships were unloaded as rapidly as possible and the sailors in the landing craft were in a hurry to get into the beaches and back out again. Supplies were spread all over the beach, partly because of the enemy’s artillery and mortar harassing fire on the beaches, but also because of the corps’ hard-driving, rapid attack, the estimate of resupply requirements was far too small. For example, a shortage of radio batteries was never corrected. There was insufficient time to sort and separate equipment and supplies adequately. Consequently, there were mix-ups, with Marine uniforms getting into Army dumps and Army supplies showing up in Marine dumps.

It was after the beach confusion at Saipan that the Navy decided a permanent corps shore party should be organized. It would be solely responsible for the movement of all supplies from the beach to the dumps and for the subsequent issue to the divisions.

Tactical lessons learned were also new to the Central Pacific war. Instead of a small atoll, the battle had been one of movement on a sizable land mass, and it was further complicated by the numerous caves and the defensive systems they provided for the Japanese. The enemy had defended caves before, but never on such a large scale. On Saipan, these caves were both natural and man-made. Often natural vegetation gave them excellent camouflage. Some had steel doors which could be opened for an artillery piece or machine gun to fire, and then retreat behind the door before return fire could take effect. The flame-throwing tanks could reach many of these caves and so proved very useful. Unfortunately, their range was limited on Saipan, but this was later improved.

Thus it was that the hard experiences on Saipan led to a variety of changes which paid valuable dividends in saving American lives in the future Pacific campaigns. And the loss of the island was a strategic strike from which the Japanese never recovered, as the United States drove forward to ultimate victory.

_Sources_

There are five principal official sources for the facts about the unit actions on Saipan. These range from preliminary, condensed accounts to massive, detailed final studies which reach down to the level of company operations. In the interests of brevity, the author of this monograph has limited himself to covering the actions of regiments and divisions, with minor special exceptions.

The five sources are:

1) Henry I. Shaw, Jr., Bernard C. Nalty, and Edwin T. Turnbladh, _Central Pacific Drive_, vol. 3, _History of U.S. Marine Corps Operations in World War II_ (Washington: Historical Branch, G-3 Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1966).

2) Philip A. Crowl, _Campaign in the Marianas_, vol 9, _United States Army in World War II, The War in the Pacific_ (Washington: Office of the Chief of Military History, Department of the Army, 1960).

3) Maj Carl W. Hoffman, USMC, _Saipan: The Beginning of the End_ (Washington: Historical Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1950).

4) Capt James R. Stockman, USMC, _Campaign for the Marianas_ (Washington: Historical Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1946).

5) Capt Edmund G. Love, USA, _The 27th Infantry Division in World War II_ (Washington: Infantry Journal Press, 1949).

In addition, there is a wide variety of other literature on the Saipan operation. This material ranges from a 19-page essay by a Naval Academy midshipman, to first-hand accounts appearing in the _Marine Corps Gazette_, to wildly subjective books dealing with individual experiences or the “Smith vs Smith” controversy.

To supplement the framework of unit tactics, vignettes of individuals have been drawn from two principal sources:

1) The Personal Papers Collection of the Marine Corps Historical Center has useful memoirs, particularly those of Frederick A. Stott (473-4A32), John C. Chapin (671-4A44), and Robert F. Graf (1946-6B12).