Chapter II: Part 2

Personnel accounting was a nightmare under those conditions, but the assault divisions eventually reported the combined loss of 2,420 men to General Schmidt (501 killed, 1,755 wounded, 47 dead of wounds, 18 missing, and 99 combat fatigue). These were sobering statistics, but Schmidt now had 30,000 Marines ashore. The casualty rate of eight percent left the landing force in relatively better condition than at the first days at Tarawa or Saipan. The miracle was that the casualties had not been twice as high. General Kuribayashi had possibly waited a little too long to open up with his big guns.

The first night on Iwo was ghostly. Sulfuric mists spiraled out of the earth. The Marines, used to the tropics, shivered in the cold, waiting for Kuribayashi’s warriors to come screaming down from the hills. They would learn that this Japanese commander was different. There would be no wasteful, vainglorious _Banzai_ attack, this night or any other. Instead, small teams of infiltrators, which Kuribayashi termed “Prowling Wolves,” probed the lines, gathering intelligence. A barge-full of Japanese _Special Landing Forces_ tried a small counterlanding on the western beaches and died to the man under the alert guns of the 28th Marines and its supporting LVT crews. Otherwise the night was one of continuing waves of indirect fire from the highlands. One high velocity round landed directly in the hole occupied by the 1st Battalion, 23d Marines’ commander, Lieutenant Colonel Ralph Haas, killing him instantly. The Marines took casualties throughout the night. But with the first streaks of dawn, the veteran landing force stirred. Five infantry regiments looked north; a sixth turned to the business at hand in the south: Mount Suribachi.

[Sidebar (page 10): The Assault Commanders at Iwo Jima

Four veteran Marine major generals led the sustained assault on Iwo Jima: Harry Schmidt, Commanding General, V Amphibious Corps; Graves B. Erskine, CG, 3d Marine Division; Clifton B. Cates, CG, 4th Marine Division; and Keller E. Rockey, CG, 5th Marine Division. Each would receive the Distinguished Service Medal for inspired combat leadership in this epic battle.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 11180
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General Schmidt was 58 at Iwo Jima and had served the Corps for 36 years. He was a native of Holdrege, Nebraska, and attended Nebraska Normal College. Expeditionary assignments kept him from service in World War I, but Schmidt saw considerable small unit action in Guam, China, the Philippines, Mexico, Cuba, and Nicaragua, plus four years at sea. He attended the Army Command and General Staff College and the Marine Corps Field Officers’ Course. In World War II, General Schmidt commanded the 4th Marine Division in the Roi-Namur and Saipan operations, then assumed command of V Amphibious Corps for the Tinian landing. At Iwo Jima he would command the largest force of Marines ever committed to a single battle. “It was the highest honor of my life,” he said.

Marine Corps Historical Collection
]

General Erskine was 47 at Iwo Jima, one of the youngest major generals in the Corps. He had served 28 years on active duty by that time. A native of Columbia, Louisiana, he graduated from Louisiana State University, received a Marine Corps commission, and immediately deployed overseas for duty in World War I. As a platoon commander in the 6th Marines, Erskine saw combat at Belleau Wood, Chateau-Thierry, Soissons, and St. Mihiel, during which he was twice wounded and awarded the Silver Star. In the inter-war years he served in Haiti, Santo Domingo, Nicaragua, Cuba, and China. He attended the Army Infantry School and the Army Command and General Staff College. In World War II, Erskine was chief of staff to General Holland M. Smith during campaigns in the Aleutians, Gilberts, Marshalls, and Marianas. He assumed command of the 3d Marine Division in October 1944.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 38595
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General Cates, 51 at Iwo, had also served the Corps during the previous 28 years. He was one of the few Marine Corps general officers who held combat command at the platoon, company, battalion, regiment, and division levels in his career. Cates was born in Tiptonville, Tennessee, and attended the University of Tennessee. In World War I, he served as a junior officer in the 6th Marines at Belleau Wood, Soissons, St. Mihiel, and Blanc Mont, and was awarded the Navy Cross, two Silver Stars, and two Purple Hearts for his service and his wounds. Between wars, he served at sea and twice in China. He attended the Army Industrial College, the Senior Course at Marine Corps Schools, and the Army War College. In World War II he commanded the 1st Marines at Guadalcanal and the 4th Marine Division at Tinian. Three years after Iwo Jima, General Cates became the 19th Commandant of the Marine Corps.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A32295
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General Rockey was 56 at Iwo Jima and a veteran of 31 years of service to the Corps. He was born in Columbia City, Indiana, graduated from Gettysburg College, and studied at Yale. Like his fellow division commanders, Rockey served in France in World War I. He was awarded the Navy Cross as a junior officer in the 5th Marines at Chateau-Thierry. A second Navy Cross came later for heroic service in Nicaragua. He also served in Haiti and two years at sea. He attended the Field Officers’ Course at Quantico and the Army Command and General Staff Course. He spent the first years of World War II at Headquarters Marine Corps in Washington, first as Director, Division of Plans and Policies, then as Assistant Commandant. In February 1944 General Rockey assumed command of the 5th Marine Division and began preparing the new organization for its first, and last, great battle of the war.

Three Marine brigadier generals also played significant roles in the amphibious seizure of Iwo Jima: William W. Rogers, corps chief of staff; Franklin A. Hart, assistant division commander, 4th Marine Division; and Leo D. Hermle, assistant division commander, 5th Marine Division. ]

_Suribachi_

The Japanese called the dormant volcano Suribachi-yama; the Marines dubbed it “Hotrocks.” From the start the Marines knew their drive north would never succeed without first seizing that hulking rock dominating the southern plain. “Suribachi seemed to take on a life of its own, to be watching these men, looming over them,” recalled one observer, adding “the mountain represented to these Marines a thing more evil than the Japanese.”

Colonel Kanehiko Atsuchi commanded the 2,000 soldiers and sailors of the Suribachi garrison. The Japanese had honeycombed the mountain with gun positions, machine-gun nests, observation sites, and tunnels, but Atsuchi had lost many of his large-caliber guns in the direct naval bombardment of the preceding three days. General Kuribayashi considered Atsuchi’s command to be semiautonomous, realizing the invaders would soon cut communications across the island’s narrow southern tip. Kuribayashi nevertheless hoped Suribachi could hold out for 10 days, maybe two weeks.

Some of Suribachi’s stoutest defenses existed down low, around the rubble-strewn base. Here nearly 70 camouflaged concrete blockhouses protected the approaches to the mountain; another 50 bulged from the slopes within the first hundred feet of elevation. Then came the caves, the first of hundreds the Marines would face on Iwo Jima.

The 28th Marines had suffered nearly 400 casualties in cutting across the neck of the island on D-day. On D+1, in a cold rain, they prepared to assault the mountain. Lieutenant Colonel Chandler Johnson, commanding the 2d Battalion, 28th Marines, set the tone for the morning as he deployed his tired troops forward: “It’s going to be a hell of a day in a hell of a place to fight the damned war!” Some of the 105mm batteries of the 13th Marines opened up in support, firing directly overhead. Gun crews fired from positions hastily dug in the black sand directly next to the 28th Marines command post. Regimental Executive Officer Lieutenant Colonel Robert H. Williams watched the cannoneers fire at Suribachi “eight hundred yards away over open sights.”

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 109861
]

As the Marines would learn during their drive north, even 105mm howitzers would hardly shiver the concrete pillboxes of the enemy. As the prep fire lifted, the infantry leapt forward, only to run immediately into very heavy machine-gun and mortar fire. Colonel Harry B. “Harry the Horse” Liversedge bellowed for his tanks. But the 5th Tank Battalion was already having a frustrating morning. The tankers sought a defilade spot in which to rearm and refuel for the day’s assault. Such a location did not exist on Iwo Jima those first days. Every time the tanks congregated to service their vehicles they were hit hard by Japanese mortar and artillery fire from virtually the entire island. Getting sufficient vehicles serviced to join the assault took most of the morning. Hereafter the tankers would maintain and re-equip their vehicles at night.

Colonel William P. McCahill Collection

_The crew of the Sherman tank “Cairo” awaits a repair crew to replace its tread after it hit a Japanese mine. Note wooden sheathing on sides of vehicle to protect against magnetic mines. Damaged vehicles became prime enemy targets._]

This day’s slow start led to more setbacks for the tankers; Japanese antitank gunners hiding in the jumbled boulders knocked out the first approaching Shermans. Assault momentum slowed further. The 28th Marines overran 40 strongpoints and gained roughly 200 yards all day. They lost a Marine for every yard gained. The tankers unknowingly redeemed themselves when one of their final 75mm rounds caught Colonel Atsuchi as he peered out of a cave entrance, killing him instantly.

Elsewhere, the morning light on D+1 revealed the discouraging sights of the chaos created along the beaches by the combination of Iwo Jima’s wicked surf and Kuribayashi’s unrelenting barrages. In the words of one dismayed observer:

The wreckage was indescribable. For two miles the debris was
so thick that there were only a few places where landing craft
could still get in. The wrecked hulls of scores of landing boats
testified to one price we had to pay to put our troops ashore.
Tanks and half-tracks lay crippled where they had bogged down
in the coarse sand. Amphibian tractors, victims of mines and
well-aimed shells, lay flopped on their backs. Cranes, brought
ashore to unload cargo, tilted at insane angles, and bulldozers
were smashed in their own roadways.

Bad weather set in, further compounding the problems of general unloading. Strong winds whipped sea swells into a nasty chop; the surf turned uglier. These were the conditions faced by Lieutenant Colonel Carl A. Youngdale in trying to land the 105mm-howitzer batteries of his 4th Battalion, 14th Marines. All 12 of these guns were preloaded in DUKWs, one to a vehicle. Added to the amphibious trucks’ problems of marginal seaworthiness with that payload was contaminated fuel. As Youngdale watched in horror, eight DUKWs suffered engine failures, swamped, and sank with great loss of life. Two more DUKWs broached in the surf zone, spilling their invaluable guns into deep water. At length Youngdale managed to get his remaining two guns ashore and into firing position.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 110319

_Like some recently killed prehistoric monsters, these LVTs lie on their sides, completely destroyed on the beach by Japanese mines and heavy artillery fire._]

General Schmidt also committed one battery of 155mm howitzers of the corps artillery to the narrow beachhead on D+1. Somehow these weapons managed to reach the beach intact, but it then took hours to get tractors to drag the heavy guns up over the terraces. These, too, commenced firing before dark, their deep bark a welcome sound to the infantry.

Concern with the heavy casualties in the first 24 hours led Schmidt to commit the 21st Marines from corps reserve. The seas proved to be too rough. The troops had harrowing experiences trying to debark down cargo nets into the small boats bobbing violently alongside the transports; several fell into the water. The boating process took hours. Once afloat, the troops circled endlessly in their small Higgins boats, waiting for the call to land. Wiser heads prevailed. After six hours of awful seasickness, the 21st Marines returned to its ships for the night.

Even the larger landing craft, the LCTs and LSMs, had great difficulty beaching. Sea anchors needed to maintain the craft perpendicular to the breakers rarely held fast in the steep, soft bottom. “Dropping those stern anchors was like dropping a spoon in a bowl of mush,” said Admiral Hill.

Hill contributed significantly to the development of amphibious expertise in the Pacific War. For Iwo Jima, he and his staff developed armored bulldozers to land in the assault waves. They also experimented with hinged Marston matting, used for expeditionary airfields, as a temporary roadway to get wheeled vehicles over soft sand. On the beach at Iwo, the bulldozers proved to be worth their weights in gold. The Marston matting was only partially successful--LVTs kept chewing it up in passage--but all hands could see its potential.

Marine Corps Combat Art Collection
]

Admiral Hill also worked with the Naval Construction Battalion (NCB) personnel, Seabees, as they were called, in the attempt to bring supply-laden causeways and pontoon barges ashore. Again the surf prevailed, broaching the craft, spilling the cargo. In desperation, Hill’s beachmasters turned to round-the-clock use of DUKWs and LVTs to keep combat cargo flowing. Once the DUKWs got free of the crippling load of 105mm howitzers they did fine. LVTs were probably better, because they could cross the soft beach without assistance and conduct resupply or medevac missions directly along the front lines. Both vehicles suffered from inexperienced LST crews in the transport area who too often would not lower their bow ramps to accommodate LVTs or DUKWs approaching after dark. In too many cases, vehicles loaded with wounded Marines thus rejected became lost in the darkness, ran out of gas and sank. The amphibian tractor battalions lost 148 LVTs at Iwo Jima. Unlike Tarawa, Japanese gunfire and mines accounted for less than 20 percent of this total. Thirty-four LVTs fell victim to Iwo’s crushing surf; 88 sank in deep water, mostly at night.

Once ashore and clear of the loose sand along the beaches, the tanks, half-tracks, and armored bulldozers of the landing force ran into the strongest minefield defenses yet encountered in the Pacific War. Under General Kuribayashi’s direction, Japanese engineers had planted irregular rows of antitank mines and the now-familiar horned antiboat mines along all possible exits from both beaches. The Japanese supplemented these weapons by rigging enormous makeshift explosives from 500-pound aerial bombs, depth charges, and torpedo heads, each triggered by an accompanying pressure mine. Worse, Iwo’s loose soil retained enough metallic characteristics to render the standard mine detectors unreliable. The Marines were reduced to using their own engineers on their hands and knees out in front of the tanks, probing for mines with bayonets and wooden sticks.

While the 28th Marines fought to encircle Suribachi and the beachmasters and shore party attempted to clear the wreckage from the beaches, the remaining assault units of the VAC resumed their collective assault against Airfield No. 1. In the 5th Marine Division’s zone, the relatively fresh troops of the 1st Battalion, 26th Marines, and the 3d Battalion, 27th Marines, quickly became bloodied in forcing their way across the western runways, taking heavy casualties from time-fuzed air bursts fired by Japanese dual-purpose antiaircraft guns zeroed along the exposed ground. In the adjacent 4th Division zone, the 23d Marines completed the capture of the airstrip, advancing 800 yards but sustaining high losses.

Marine Corps Historical Collection

_Marines advance warily on Airfield No. 1 towards wrecked Japanese planes in which enemy snipers are suspected of hiding. The assault quickly moved on._]

Some of the bitterest fighting in the initial phase of the landing continued to occur along the high ground above the Rock Quarry on the right flank. Here the 25th Marines, reinforced by the 1st Battalion, 24th Marines, engaged in literally the fight of its life. The Marines found the landscape, and the Japanese embedded in it, unreal:

There was no cover from enemy fire. Japs dug in reinforced concrete
pillboxes laid down interlocking bands of fire that cut whole
companies to ribbons. Camouflage hid all enemy positions. The high
ground on either side was honeycombed with layer after layer of Jap
emplacements.... Their observation was perfect; whenever a Marine
made a move, the Japs would smother the area in a murderous blanket
of fire.

The second day of the battle had proven unsatisfactory on virtually every front. To cap off the frustration, when the 1st Battalion, 24th Marines, finally managed a breakthrough along the cliffs late in the day their only reward was two back-to-back cases of “friendly fire.” An American air strike inflicted 11 casualties; misguided salvos from an unidentified gunfire support ship took down 90 more. Nothing seemed to be going right.

The morning of the third day, D+2, seemed to promise more of the same frustrations. Marines shivered in the cold wind and rain; Admiral Hill twice had to close the beach due to high surf and dangerous undertows. But during one of the grace periods, the 3d Division’s 21st Marines managed to come ashore, all of it extremely glad to be free of the heaving small boats. General Schmidt assigned it to the 4th Marine Division at first.

The 28th Marines resumed its assault on the base of Suribachi, more slow, bloody fighting, seemingly boulder by boulder. On the west coast, the 1st Battalion, 28th Marines, made the most of field artillery and naval gunfire support to reach the shoulder of the mountain. Elsewhere, murderous Japanese fire restricted any progress to a matter of yards. Enemy mortar fire from all over the volcano rained down on the 2d Battalion, 28th Marines, trying to advance along the eastern shore. Recalled rifleman Richard Wheeler of the experience, “It was terrible, the worst I can remember us taking. The Jap mortarmen seemed to be playing checkers and using us as squares.” The Marines used Weasels, handy little tracked vehicles making their first field appearance in this battle, to hustle forward flame-thrower canisters and evacuate some of the many wounded.

Colonel William P. McCahill Collection

_Flamethrower teams look like futuristic fighters as they leave their assembly area heading for the front lines. The casualty rate for flamethrower operators was high, since they were prime targets for Japanese fire because of the profile they had with the flamethrowers strapped to their backs. When they fell, others took their places._]

That night the amphibious task force experienced the only significant air attack of the battle. Fifty _kamikaze_ pilots from the _22d Mitate Special Attack Unit_ left Katori Airbase near Yokosuka and flung themselves against the ships on the outer perimeter of Iwo Jima. In desperate action that would serve as a prelude to Okinawa’s fiery engagements, the _kamikazes_ sank the escort carrier _Bismarck Sea_ with heavy loss of life and damaged several other ships, including the veteran _Saratoga_, finally knocked out of the war. All 50 Japanese planes were expended.

It rained even harder on the fourth morning, D+3. Marines scampering forward under fire would hit the deck, roll, attempt to return fire--only to discover that the loose volcanic grit had combined with the rain to jam their weapons. The 21st Marines, as the vanguard of the 3d Marine Division, hoped for good fortune in its initial commitment after relieving the 23d Marines. The regiment instead ran headlong into an intricate series of Japanese emplacements which marked the southeastern end of the main Japanese defenses. The newcomers fought hard all day to scratch and claw an advance of 200 net yards. Casualties were disproportionate.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 110139
]

On the right flank, Lieutenant Colonel Chambers continued to rally the 3d Battalion, 25th Marines, through the rough pinnacles above the Rock Quarry. As he strode about directing the advance of his decimated companies that afternoon, a Japanese gunner shot him through the chest. Chambers went down hard, thinking it was all over:

I started fading in and out. I don’t remember too much about it
except the frothy blood gushing out of my mouth.... Then somebody
started kicking the hell out of my feet. It was [Captain James]
Headley saying, “Get up, you were hurt worse on Tulagi!”

Captain Headley knew Chambers’ sucking chest wound portended a grave injury; he sought to reduce his commander’s shock until they could get him out of the line of fire. This took doing. Lieutenant Michael F. Keleher, USNR, now the battalion surgeon, crawled forward with one of his corpsmen. Willing hands lifted Chambers on a stretcher. Keleher and several others, bent double against the fire, carried him down the cliffs to the aid station and eventually on board a DUKW making the evening’s last run out to the hospital ships. All three battalion commanders in the 25th Marines had now become casualties. Chambers would survive to receive the Medal of Honor; Captain Headley would command the shot-up 3d Battalion, 25th Marines, for the duration of the battle.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 110177

_From the time of the landing on Iwo Jima, attacking Marines seemed to be moving uphill constantly. This scene is located between Purple Beach and Airfield No. 2._]

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) A419744
]

By contrast, the 28th Marines on D+3 made commendable progress against Suribachi, reaching the shoulder at all points. Late in the day combat patrols from the 1st Battalion, 28th Marines, and the 2d Battalion, 28th Marines, linked up at Tobiishi Point at the southern tip of the island. Recon patrols returned to tell Lieutenant Colonel Johnson that they found few signs of live Japanese along the mountain’s upper slopes on the northside.

At sundown Admiral Spruance authorized Task Force 58 to strike Honshu and Okinawa, then retire to Ulithi to prepare for the Ryukyuan campaign. All eight Marine Corps fighter squadrons thus left the Iwo Jima area for good. Navy pilots flying off the 10 remaining escort carriers would pick up the slack. Without slighting the skill and valor of these pilots, the quality of close air support to the troops fighting ashore dropped off after this date. The escort carriers, for one thing, had too many competing missions, namely combat air patrols, anti-submarine sweeps, searches for downed aviators, harassing strikes against neighboring Chichi Jima. Marines on Iwo Jima complained of slow response time to air support requests, light payloads (rarely greater than 100-pound bombs), and high delivery altitudes (rarely below 1,500 feet). The Navy pilots did deliver a number of napalm bombs. Many of these failed to detonate, although this was not the fault of the aviators; the early napalm “bombs” were simply old wing-tanks filled with the mixture, activated by unreliable detonators. The Marines also grew concerned about these notoriously inaccurate area weapons being dropped from high altitudes.

By Friday, 23 February (D+4), the 28th Marines stood poised to complete the capture of Mount Suribachi. The honor went to the 3d Platoon (reinforced), Company E, 2d Battalion, 28th Marines, under the command of First Lieutenant Harold G. Schrier, the company executive officer. Lieutenant Colonel Johnson ordered Schrier to scale the summit, secure the crater, and raise a 54″×28″ American flag for all to see. Schrier led his 40-man patrol forward at 0800. The regiment had done its job, blasting the dozens of pillboxes with flame and demolitions, rooting out snipers, knocking out the masked batteries. The combined-arms pounding by planes, field pieces, and naval guns the past week had likewise taken its toll on the defenders. Those who remained popped out of holes and caves to resist Schrier’s advance only to be cut down. The Marines worked warily up the steep northern slope, sometimes resorting to crawling on hands and knees.

Part of the enduring drama of the Suribachi flag-raising was the fact that it was observed by so many people. Marines all over the island could track the progress of the tiny column of troops during its ascent (“those guys oughta be getting flight pay,” said one wag). Likewise, hundreds of binoculars from the ships offshore watched Schrier’s Marines climbing ever upward. Finally they reached the top and momentarily disappeared from view. Those closest to the volcano could hear distant gunfire. Then, at 1020, there was movement on the summit; suddenly the Stars and Stripes fluttered bravely.

Lusty cheers rang out from all over the southern end of the island. The ships sounded their sirens and whistles. Wounded men propped themselves up on their litters to glimpse the sight. Strong men wept unashamedly. Navy Secretary Forrestal, thrilled by the sight, turned to Holland Smith and said, “the raising of that flag means a Marine Corps for another five hundred years.”

Three hours later an even larger flag went up to more cheers. Few would know that Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal had just captured the embodiment of the American warfighting spirit on film. _Leatherneck_ magazine photographer Staff Sergeant Lou Lowery had taken a picture of the first flag-raising and almost immediately got in a firefight with a couple of enraged Japanese. His photograph would become a valued collector’s item. But Rosenthal’s would enthrall the free world.

Captain Thomas M. Fields, commanding Company D, 1st Battalion, 26th Marines, heard his men yell “Look up there!” and turned in time to see the first flag go up. His first thought dealt with the battle still at hand: “Thank God the Japs won’t be shooting us down from behind any more.” Meanwhile, the 14th Marines rushed their echo and flash-ranging equipment up to the summit. The landing force sorely needed enhanced counterbattery fire against Kuribayashi’s big guns to the north.

The Marines who raised the first flag were Lieutenant Schrier; Platoon Sergeant Ernest T. Thomas, Jr.; Sergeant Henry O. Hansen; Corporal Charles W. Lindberg; and Privates First Class Louis C. Charlo and James Michels. The six men immortalized by Joe Rosenthal’s photograph of the second flag-raising were Sergeant Michael Strank, Pharmacist’s Mate 2/c John H. Bradley, Corporal Harlon H. Block, and Privates First Class Ira H. Hayes, Franklin R. Sousley, and Rene A. Gagnon.

The 28th Marines took Suribachi in three days at the cost of more than 500 troops (added to its D-day losses of 400 men). Colonel Liversedge began to reorient his regiment for operations in the opposite direction, northward. Unknown to all, the battle still had another month to run its bloody course.

[Sidebar (page 26): Rosenthal’s Photograph of Iwo Jima Flag-Raising Quickly Became One of the War’s Most Famous

Associated Press
]

There were two flags raised over Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima, but not at the same time. Despite the beliefs of many, and contrary to the supposed evidence, none of the photographs of the two flag-raisings was posed. To begin with, early on the morning of 23 February 1945, four days after the initial landings, Captain Dave E. Severance, the commander of Company E, 2d Battalion, 28th Marines, ordered Lieutenant Harold G. Schrier to take a patrol and an American flag to the top of Suribachi. Staff Sergeant Louis R. Lowery, a _Leatherneck_ magazine photographer, accompanied the patrol. After a short fire fight, the 54″-by-28″ flag was attached to a long piece of pipe, found at the crest of the mountain, and raised. This is the flag-raising which Lowery photographed. As the flag was thought to be too small to be seen from the beach below, another Marine from the battalion went on board _LST 779_ to obtain a larger flag. A second patrol then took this flag up to Suribachi’s top and Joe Rosenthal, an Associated Press photographer, who had just come ashore, accompanied it.

As Rosenthal noted in his oral history interview, “... my stumbling on that picture was, in all respects, accidental.” When he got to the top of the mountain, he stood in a decline just below the crest of the hill with Marine Sergeant William Genaust, a movie cameraman who was killed later in the campaign, watching while a group of five Marines and a Navy corpsman fastened the new flag to another piece of pipe. Rosenthal said that he turned from Genaust and out of the corner of his eye saw the second flag being raised. He said, “Hey, Bill. There it goes.” He continued: “I swung my camera around and held it until I could guess that this was the peak of the action, and shot.”

Some people learned that Rosenthal’s photograph was of a second flag-raising and made the accusation that it was posed. Joe Rosenthal: “Had I posed that shot, I would, of course, have ruined it.... I would have also made them turn their heads so that they could be identified for [Associated Press] members throughout the country, and nothing like the existing picture would have resulted.”

Later in the interview, he said: “This picture, what it means to me--and it has a meaning to me--that has to be peculiar only to me ... I see all that blood running down the sand. I see those awful, impossible positions to take in a frontal attack on such an island, where the batteries opposing you are not only staggered up in front of you, but also standing around at the sides as you’re coming on shore. The awesome situation, before they ever reach that peak. Now, that a photograph can serve to remind us of the contribution of those boys--that was what made it important, not who took it.”

Rosenthal took 18 photographs that day, went down to the beach to write captions for his undeveloped film packs, and, as the other photographers on the island, sent his films out to the command vessel offshore. From there they were flown to Guam, where the headquarters of Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet/Commander in Chief, Pacific Ocean Areas, was situated, and where the photos were processed and censored. Rosenthal’s pictures arrived at Guam before Lowery’s, were processed, sent to the States for distribution, and his flag-raising picture became one of the most famous photographs ever taken in the war, or in any war.--_Benis M. Frank_ ]

_The Drive North_

The landing force still had much to learn about its opponent. Senior intelligence officers did not realize until 27 February, the ninth day of the battle, that General Kuribayashi was in fact on Iwo Jima, or that his fighters actually numbered half again the original estimate of 13,000.

For Kuribayashi, the unexpectedly early loss of the Suribachi garrison represented a setback, yet he occupied a position of great strength. He still had the equivalent of eight infantry battalions, a tank regiment, two artillery and three heavy mortar battalions, plus the 5,000 gunners and naval infantry under his counterpart, Rear Admiral Toshinosuke Ichimaru. Unlike other besieged garrisons in the Central Pacific, the two Japanese services on Iwo Jima functioned well together.

Marine Corps Historical Collection

_Marine half-track scores a hit on a Japanese strongpoint with its 75mm gun._]

Kuribayashi was particularly pleased with the quality of his artillery and engineering troops. Colonel Chosaku Kaido served as Chief of Artillery from his seemingly impregnable concrete blockhouse on a promontory on the east central sector of the Motoyama Plateau, a lethal landmark the Marines soon dubbed “Turkey Knob.” Major General Sadasue Senda, a former artillery officer with combat experience in China and Manchuria, commanded the _2d Independent Mixed Brigade_, whose main units would soon be locked into a 25-day death struggle with the 4th Marine Division. Kuribayashi knew that the _204th Naval Construction Battalion_ had built some of the most daunting defensive systems on the island in that sector. One cave had a tunnel 800 feet long with 14 separate exits; it was one of hundreds designed to be defended in depth.

The Japanese defenders waiting for the advance of the V Amphibious Corps were well armed and confident. Occasionally Kuribayashi authorized company-sized spoiling attacks to recapture lost terrain or disrupt enemy assault preparations. These were not suicidal or sacrificial. Most were preceded by stinging artillery and mortar fires and aimed at limited objectives. Kuribayashi’s iron will kept his troops from large-scale, wasteful _Banzai_ attacks until the last days. One exception occurred the night of 8 March when General Senda grew so frustrated at the tightening noose being applied by the 4th Marine Division that he led 800 of his surviving troops in a ferocious counterattack. Finally given a multitude of open targets, the Marines cut them down in a lingering melee.

For the first week of the drive north, the Japanese on Iwo Jima actually had the attacking Marines outgunned. Japanese 150mm howitzers and 120mm mortars were superior to most of the weapons of the landing force. The Marines found the enemy direct fire weapons to be equally deadly, especially the dual-purpose antiaircraft guns and the 47mm tank guns, buried and camouflaged up to their turrets. “The Japs could _snipe_ with those big guns,” said retired Lieutenant General Donn J. Robertson. The defenders also had the advantage of knowing the ground.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 111988
]

Not surprisingly, most casualties in the first three weeks of the battle resulted from high explosives: mortars, artillery, mines, grenades, and the hellacious rocket bombs. _Time_ correspondent Robert Sherrod reported that the dead at Iwo Jima, both Japanese and American, had one thing in common: “They all died with the greatest possible violence. Nowhere in the Pacific War had I seen such badly mangled bodies. Many were cut squarely in half.”

Close combat was rough enough; on Iwo Jima the stress seemed endless because for a long time the Marines had no secure “rear area” in which to give shot-up troop units a respite. Kuribayashi’s gunners throughout the Motoyama Plateau could still bracket the beaches and airfields. The enormous spigot mortar shells and rocket bombs still came tumbling out of the sky. Japanese infiltrators were drawn to “softer targets” in the rear. Anti-personnel mines and booby traps, encountered here on a large scale for the first time in the Pacific, seemed everywhere. Exhausted troop units would stumble out of the front lines seeking nothing more than a helmet-full of water in which to bathe and a deep hole in which to sleep. Too often the men had to spend their rare rest periods repairing weapons, humping ammo, dodging major-caliber incoming, or having to repel yet another nocturnal Japanese probe.

General Schmidt planned to attack the Japanese positions in the north with three divisions abreast, the 5th on the left, the 3d (less the 3d Marines) in the center, and the 4th on the right, along the east coast. The drive north officially began on D+5, the day after the capture of Suribachi. Prep fires along the high ground immediately north of the second airfield extended for a full hour. Then three regimental combat teams moved out abreast, the 26th Marines on the left, the 24th Marines on the right, and the 21st Marines again in the middle. For this attack, General Schmidt consolidated the Sherman tanks of all three divisions into one armored task force commanded by Lieutenant Colonel William R. “Rip” Collins. It would be the largest concentration of Marine tanks in the war, virtually an armored regiment. The attack plan seemed solid.

The Marines soon realized they were now trying to force passage through Kuribayashi’s main defensive belt. The well-coordinated attack degenerated into desperate, small-unit actions all along the front. The 26th Marines on the left, aided by the tanks, gained the most yardage, but it was all relative. The airfield runways proved to be lethal killing zones. Marine tanks were bedeviled by mines and high-velocity direct fire weapons all along the front. On the right flank, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander A. Vandegrift, Jr., son of the Commandant, became a casualty. Major Doyle A. Stout took command of the 3d Battalion, 24th Marines.

During the fighting on D+5, General Schmidt took leave of Admiral Hill and moved his command post ashore from the amphibious force flagship _Auburn_ (AGC 10). Colonel Howard N. Kenyon led his 9th Marines ashore and into a staging area. With that, General Erskine moved the command post of the 3d Marine Division ashore; the 21st Marines reverted to its parent command. Erskine’s artillery regiment, the 12th Marines under Lieutenant Colonel Raymond F. Crist, Jr., continued to land for the next several days. Schmidt now had eight infantry regiments committed. Holland Smith still retained the 3d Marines in Expeditionary Troops reserve. Schmidt made the first of several requests to Smith for release of this seasoned outfit. The V Amphibious Corps had already suffered 6,845 casualties.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 110604

_Expended shells and open ammunition boxes testify to the heavy supporting fire this water-cooled, .30-caliber Browning machine gun poured on the enemy as Marines advanced in the furious and difficult battle for the heights of Suribachi._]

The next day, D+6, 25 February, provided little relief in terms of Japanese resistance. Small groups of Marines, accompanied by tanks, somehow made it across the runway, each man harboring the inescapable feeling he was alone in the middle of a gigantic bowling alley. Sometimes holding newly gained positions across the runway proved more deadly than the process of getting there. Resupply became nearly impossible. Tanks were invaluable; many were lost.

Schmidt this day managed to get on shore the rest of his corps artillery, two battalions of 155mm howitzers under Colonel John S. Letcher. Well-directed fire from these heavier field pieces eased some of the pressure. So did call fire from the cruisers and destroyers assigned to each maneuver unit. But the Marines expressed disappointment in their air support. The 3d Marine Division complained that the Navy’s assignment of eight fighters and eight bombers on station was “entirely inadequate.” By noon on this date General Cates sent a message to Schmidt requesting that “the Strategic Air Force in the Marianas replace Navy air support immediately.” Colonel Vernon E. Megee, now ashore as Air Commander Iwo Jima and taking some of the heat from frustrated division commanders, blamed “those little spit-kit Navy fighters up there, trying to help, never enough, never where they should be.”

In fairness, it is doubtful whether any service could have provided effective air support during the opening days of the drive north. The Air Liaison Parties with each regiment played hell trying to identify and mark targets, the Japanese maintained masterful camouflage, frontline units were often “eyeball-to-eyeball” with the enemy, and the air support request net was overloaded. The Navy squadrons rising from the decks of escort carriers improved thereafter, to the extent that their conflicting missions would permit. Subsequent strikes featured heavier bombs (up to five hundred pounds) and improved response time. A week later General Cates rated his air support “entirely satisfactory.” The battle of Iwo Jima, however, would continue to frustrate all providers of supporting arms; the Japanese almost never assembled legitimate targets in the open.

“The Japs weren’t _on_ Iwo Jima,” said Captain Fields of the 26th Marines, “they were _in_ Iwo Jima.”

Richard Wheeler, who survived service with the 28th Marines and later wrote two engrossing books about the battle, pointed out this phenomenon:

This was surely one of the strangest battlefields in history, with
one side fighting wholly above the ground and the other operating
almost wholly within it. Throughout the battle, American aerial
observers marveled at the fact that one side of the field held
thousands of figures, either milling around or in foxholes, while
the other side seemed deserted. The strangest thing of all was that
the two contestants sometimes made troop movements simultaneously
in the same territory, one maneuvering on the surface and the other
using tunnels beneath.

As the Marines struggled to wrest the second airfield from the Japanese, the commanding terrain features rising to the north caught their attention. Some would become known by their elevations (although there were _three_ Hill 362s on the island), but others would take the personality and nicknames assigned by the attackers. Hence, the 4th Marine Division would spend itself attacking Hill 382, the “Amphitheater,” and “Turkey Knob” (the whole bristling complex became known as “The Meatgrinder”). The 5th Division would earn its spurs and lose most of its invaluable cadre of veteran leaders attacking Nishi Ridge and Hills 362-A and 362-B, then end the fighting in “The Gorge.” The 3d Division would focus first on Hills Peter and 199-Oboe, just north of the second airfield, then the heavily fortified Hill 362-C beyond the third airstrip, and finally the moonscape jungle of stone which would become known as “Cushman’s Pocket.”

Lieutenant Colonel Robert E. Cushman, Jr., a future Commandant, commanded the 2d Battalion, 9th Marines at Iwo Jima. Cushman and his men were veterans of heavy fighting in Guam, yet they were appalled by their first sight of the battlefield. Wrecked and burning Sherman tanks dotted the airstrips, a stream of casualties flowed to the rear, “the machine-gun fire was terrific.” Cushman mounted his troops on the surviving tanks and roared across the field. There they met the same reverse-slope defenses which had plagued the 21st Marines. Securing the adjoining two small hills--Peter and 199-Oboe--took the 3d Marine Division three more days of intensely bitter fighting.

General Schmidt, considering the 3d Division attack in the center to be his main effort, provided priority fire support from Corps artillery, and directed the other two divisions to allocate half their own regimental fire support to the center. None of the commanders was happy with this. Neither the 4th Division, taking heavy casualties in The Amphitheater as it approached Hill 382, nor the 5th Division, struggling to seize Nishi Ridge, wanted to dilute their organic fire support. Nor was General Erskine pleased with the results. The main effort, he argued, should clearly receive the main fire. Schmidt never did solve this problem. His Corps artillery was too light; he needed twice as many battalions and bigger guns--up to 8-inch howitzers, which the Marine Corps had not yet fielded. He had plenty of naval gunfire support available and used it abundantly, but unless the targets lay in ravines facing to the sea he lost the advantage of direct, observed fire.

Marine Corps Combat Art Collection
]

Schmidt’s problems of fire support distribution received some alleviation on 26 February when two Marine observation planes flew in from the escort carrier _Wake Island_, the first aircraft to land on Iwo’s recaptured and still fire-swept main airstrip. These were Stinson OY single-engine observation planes, nicknamed “Grasshoppers,” of Lieutenant Tom Rozga’s Marine Observation Squadron (VMO) 4, and they were followed the next day by similar planes from Lieutenant Roy G. Miller’s VMO-5. The intrepid pilots of these frail craft had already had an adventurous time in the waters off Iwo Jima. Several had been launched precariously from the experimental Brodie catapult on _LST 776_, “like a peanut from a slingshot.” All 14 of the planes of these two observation squadrons would receive heavy Japanese fire in battle, not only while airborne but also while being serviced on the airstrips as well. Yet these two squadrons (and elements of VMO-1) would fly nearly 600 missions in support of all three divisions. Few units contributed so much to the eventual suppression of Kuribayashi’s deadly artillery fire. In time the mere presence of these small planes overhead would influence Japanese gunners to cease fire and button up against the inevitable counterbattery fire to follow. Often the pilots would undertake pre-dawn or dusk missions simply to extend this protective “umbrella” over the troops, risky flying given Iwo’s unlit fields and constant enemy sniping from the adjacent hills.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 110922

_A Marine dashes past a fallen Japanese killed a short time earlier, all the while himself a target of searching enemy fire, during heavy fighting in the north._]

The 4th Marine Division finally seized Hill 382, the highest point north of Suribachi, but continued to take heavy casualties moving through The Amphitheater against Turkey Knob. The 5th Division overran Nishi Ridge, then bloodied itself against Hill 362-A’s intricate defenses. Said Colonel Thomas A. Wornham, commanding the 27th Marines, of these defenses: “They had interlocking bands of fire the likes of which you never saw.” General Cates redeployed the 28th Marines into this slugfest. On 2 March a Japanese gunner fired a high-velocity shell which killed Lieutenant Colonel Chandler Johnson immediately, one week after his glorious seizure of Suribachi’s summit. The 28th Marines captured Hill 362-A at the cost of 200 casualties.

On the same day Lieutenant Colonel Lowell E. English, commanding the 2d Battalion, 21st Marines, went down with a bullet through his knee. English was bitter. His battalion was being rotated to the rear. “We had taken very heavy casualties and were pretty well disorganized. I had less than 300 men left out of the 1200 I came ashore with.” English then received orders to turn his men around and plug a gap in the front lines. “It was an impossible order. I couldn’t move that disorganized battalion a mile back north in 30 minutes.” General Erskine did not want excuses. “You tell that damned English he’d better be there,” he told the regimental commander. English fired back, “You tell that son of a bitch I will be there, and I was, but my men were still half a mile behind me and I got a blast through the knee.”

On the left flank, the 26th Marines mounted its most successful, and bloodiest, attack of the battle, finally seizing Hill 362-B. The day-long struggle cost 500 Marine casualties and produced five Medals of Honor. For Captain Frank C. Caldwell, commanding Company F, 1st Battalion, 26th Marines, it was the worst single day of the battle. His company suffered 47 casualties in taking the hill, including the first sergeant and the last of the original platoon commanders.

Overall, the first nine days of the V Amphibious Corps drive north had produced a net gain of about 4,000 yards at the staggering cost of 7,000 American casualties. Several of the pitched battles--Airfield No. 2, Hill 382, Hill 362-B, for example--would of themselves warrant a separate commemorative monograph. The fighting in each case was as savage and bloody as any in Marine Corps history.

Marine Corps Combat Art Collection
]

This was the general situation previously described at the unsuspected “turning point” on 4 March (D+13) when, despite sustaining frightful losses, the Marines had chewed through a substantial chunk of Kuribayashi’s main defenses, forcing the enemy commander to shift his command post to a northern cave. This was the afternoon the first crippled B-29 landed. In terms of American morale, it could not have come at a better time. General Schmidt ordered a general standdown on 5 March to enable the exhausted assault forces a brief respite and the opportunity to absorb some replacements.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 111933

_The 3d Battalion, 28th Marines, finds the terrain on Iwo Jima more broken and forbidding than the black sands of the beaches as they advance in a frontal attack northward against unremitting fire from determined Japanese troops._]

The issue of replacement troops during the battle remains controversial even half a century later. General Schmidt, now faced with losses approaching the equivalent of one entire division, again urged General Smith to release the 3d Marines. While each division had been assigned a replacement draft of several thousand Marines, Schmidt wanted the cohesion and combat experience of Colonel James M. Stuart’s regimental combat team. Holland Smith believed that the replacement drafts would suffice, presuming that each man in these hybrid units had received sufficient infantry training to enable his immediate assignment to front-line outfits. The problem lay in distributing the replacements in small, arbitrary numbers--not as teamed units--to fill the gaping holes in the assault battalions. The new men, expected to replace invaluable veterans of the Pacific War, were not only new to combat, but they also were new to each other, an assortment of strangers lacking the life-saving bonds of unit integrity. “They get killed the day they go into battle,” said one division personnel officer in frustration. Replacement losses within the first 48 hours of combat were, in fact, appalling. Those who survived, who learned the ropes and established a bond with the veterans, contributed significantly to the winning of the battle. The division commanders, however, decried the wastefulness of this policy and urged unit replacements by the veteran battalions of the 3d Marines. As General Erskine recalled:

I asked the question of Kelly Turner and Holland Smith and the
usual answer was, “You got enough Marines on the island now; there
are too damn many here.” I said, “The solution is very easy. Some
of these people are very tired and worn out, so take them out and
bring in the 3d Marines.” And they practically said, “You keep
quiet--we’ve made the decision.” And that was that.

Most surviving senior officers agreed that the decision not to use the 3d Marines at Iwo Jima was ill-advised and costly. But Holland Smith never wavered: “Sufficient troops were on Iwo Jima for the capture of the island ... two regiments were sufficient to cover the front assigned to General Erskine.” On 5 March, D+14, Smith ordered the 3d Marines to sail back to Guam.

Marine Corps Historical Collection

_“Turkey Knob,” the outcropping which anchored the positions of the Japanese_ 2d Mixed Brigade _against the advance of the 4th Marine Division for many days, was sketched by Cpl Daniel L. Winsor, Jr., USMCR, S-2 Section, 25th Marines._]

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 109666
]

Holland Smith may have known the overall statistics of battle losses sustained by the landing force to that point, but he may not have fully appreciated the tremendous attrition of experienced junior officers and senior staff noncommissioned officers taking place every day. As one example, the day after the 3d Marines, many of whose members were veterans of Bougainville and Guam, departed the amphibious objective area, Company E, 2d Battalion, 23d Marines, suffered the loss of its seventh company commander since the battle began. Likewise, Lieutenant Colonel Cushman’s experiences with the 2d Battalion, 9th Marines, seemed typical:

The casualties were fierce. By the time Iwo Jima was over I had
gone through two complete sets of platoon leaders, lieutenants.
After that we had such things as artillery forward observers
commanding companies and sergeants leading the platoons, which were
less than half-strength. It was that bad.

Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 110626

_A light machine gun crew of Company H, 2d Battalion, 27th Marines, hugs the ground and takes advantage of whatever cover it can from an enemy gunner._]

Lieutenant Colonel English recalled that by the 12th day the 2d Battalion, 21st Marines, had “lost every company commander.... I had one company exec left.” Lieutenant Colonel Donn Robertson, commanding the 3d Battalion, 27th Marines, lost all three of his rifle company commanders, “two killed by the same damned shell.” In many infantry units, platoons ceased to exist; depleted companies were merged to form one half-strength outfit.

[Sidebar (page 29): The Japanese 320mm Spigot Mortar

One of the unique Japanese weapons that Marines encountered on Iwo Jima was the 320mm spigot mortar. These enormous defensive weapons were emplaced and operated by the Japanese Army’s _20th Independent Mortar Battalion_.

The mortar tube, which had a small cavity at the muzzle, rested on a steel baseplate which, in turn, was supported by a wooden platform. Unlike a conventional mortar, the five-foot long projectile was placed over the tube instead of being dropped down the barrel. The mortar shell had a diameter of nearly 13 inches, while the mortar tube was little more than 10 inches wide. The weapon could hurl a 675-pound shell a maximum of 1,440 yards. The range was adjusted by varying the powder charge, while changes in deflection were accomplished by brute force: shoving and pushing the base platform.

Although the tubes only held out for five or six rounds, enough shells were lobbed onto Marine positions to make a lasting impression on those who suffered through that campaign. According to a platoon leader who served with the 28th Marines, the spigot mortar (referred to as “the screaming Jesus” in his unit) was always afforded a healthy respect and, along with the eight-inch Japanese naval rocket, remains one of his most vivid memories of Iwo Jima. General Robert E. Cushman, Jr., who commanded the 2d Battalion, 9th Marines, at Iwo Jima and went on to become the 25th Commandant of the Marine Corps, recalled that the tumbling projectile’s inaccuracy made it that much more terrifying. “You could see it coming,” he said, “but you never knew where the hell it was going to come down.”

_Kenneth L. Smith-Christmas_

]

[Sidebar (page 32): Marine Corps Air Support During Iwo Jima

For a few special moments just prior to the landing on D-day at Iwo Jima the Marines’ long-cherished vision of an integrated air-ground team seemed to have been realized. As assault troops neared the beach in their tracked amphibian vehicles, dozens of Marine Vought F4U Corsairs swept low over the objective, paving the way with rockets and machine-gun fire. “It was magnificent!” exclaimed one observer. Unfortunately, the eight Marine fighter squadrons present at Iwo that morning came from the fast carriers of Task Force 58, not the amphibious task force; three days later TF 58 left for good in pursuit of more strategic targets. Thereafter, Navy and Army Air Force pilots provided yeoman service in support of the troops fighting ashore. Sustained close air support of amphibious forces by Marine air was once again postponed to some future combat proving ground.