Uncommon Valor

by Jason G.

I felt the gentle sway of the boat, as it quietly waited for the rest of the other landing craft to get into position for the assault. The goal of the assault was to capture the three airfields located on Iwo Jima. Everyone was quiet except for my friend Robert, who asked, “John, aren’t you excited? We finally get to fight!”

Marines at Iwo Jima

“Definitely,” I replied.

The last few months were a blur. It seemed like only yesterday that I had a huge argument with my dad. It was October 1945 when I made a plan with my friends, Robert Williams and James Moore, to join the Marines to go and fight the Japs in the Pacific. Robert, James, and I had been friends for what seemed like forever. We lived close together, went to school together, and did almost everything else we could together. I had sprinted home and, gasping for breath, told my father of my decision. Before I had even finished speaking, he said no. My father was a veteran of the Great War, and he used to tell me stories about it when I was younger. Being a soldier seemed like a glorious life to me and still does now.

I quickly protested and asked my father why. He tried to explain the horrors of war, but they had little to no effect on me. Then I noticed the pained expression on his face and immediately asked him what had happened. He said nothing, but I persisted, and he finally gave in. He told me about his brother, who also fought with him. When he told me about his brother, he never actually mentioned what happened to him. My dad explained how his brother had been killed in the war, and I swear, when he was finished, if he had said any more, he would have cried. I told him I was sorry about his brother, but it would not change my decision. Suddenly he was furious at me. He yelled and yelled about how stupid I was and how I never think. I yelled back, saying that he did not understand, and then I walked out the door.

I joined the Marines the next day, and after a few months of training, I was assigned to the 23rd Marines in the 4th division with both Robert and James. Not long after, we were told that we were taking part in the invasion of the tiny island of Iwo Jima. I was relieved. From what they told us about it, the invasion was only supposed to take a few days. The island did not have too many defenses, and it only had about 14,000 defenders on it. As they put us on boats, I laughed; the Japs did not stand a chance, for we had been bombing the island for months and were about to start a three day naval bombardment. Even if most of them survived, we outnumbered them over five to one.

I was put in the same landing craft as Robert, with James in the one right next to us. I was more excited than I thought was possible. I was about to take part in my first battle, would finally be able to fight for my country, and help win the war.

Finally, everything was in position and we started moving. I managed to calm myself down and organize my thoughts. I looked around and saw some men shaking with excitement, others with fear and dread. I felt the smooth handle of my rifle and the roughness of my clothes. Most of the people on my boat were new to the Marines, except for one older veteran, our commander, named Paul. He had tried to warn us about the danger and about the furiousity of the Japanese soldiers, but few had listened.

As we approached the island, I noticed how light the barrage of fire at us was, which removed all remaining doubts of an easy victory. Moments later we jumped onto the black sand of the beach. The black volcanic sand made me sink down to my ankles, and our running turned into walking and walking into crawling. We waited on the beaches as more men and equipment were unloaded. The beaches were becoming choked with men and equipment, when suddenly the quiet of the morning was shattered as artillery, mortars, and machine guns rained down shells on us. Everybody dove for any cover that they could find. Many were cut down where they stood. Me? I just froze in shock. Training and stories did not even come close to preparing me for real combat. The thunderous booms of artillery and other gunfire made it sound as if the world was being torn apart. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a shell slam into a tank, killing three soldiers who were hiding behind it. I saw another man desperately digging a foxhole, but the sides kept on collapsing in on him. I could only watch as his head was turned into a bloody mess by a sniper. I faintly heard someone calling my name. “John! John! Get over here, quick! John Beck!”  

My trance was finally broken as James tackled me to the ground just as a bullet shot through the now empty air where my head had been moments ago. James and I half-ran half-crawled behind the wreckage of a tank where Robert was waiting. I raised my rifle and looked around to try to find a target. We were being attacked from all sides, and I couldn’t see a single enemy soldier. If I looked really hard I could see some of the Japanese soldiers, but I could not find a big enough target. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a Japanese sniper taking aim, so I brought my rifle around and shot at him. The shot was rushed, so it missed, but it was close enough to make him get back behind cover. Now that I knew where he was, I calmly waited for him to poke his head back out. When he finally did, I shot him. I looked around and noticed that my fellow Marines were slowly advancing. I crawled forward and shot in the general direction where most of the enemy fire was coming from. As I was advancing, I saw a shell from a Japanese mortar arc up into the sky and come down toward me. I desperately tried to roll out of the way but as the shell hit the ground and exploded, I felt a sharp pain in my leg and I cried out.  

I looked down and saw a piece of shrapnel lodged in my leg. I crawled behind a blown up tank and managed to remove the shrapnel and bandage the wound. I sat there breathing heavily and tried to calm myself down. I looked back out towards the ocean and saw an explosion as one of the boats was hit by a shell from one of the many coastal batteries. I peeked out from behind cover and shot at a Japanese soldier who was firing a mortar. When I looked around, I saw that we were making a slow, steady advance and that we still could win, but we had vastly underestimated the Japanese defense of this island. It was going to be a long, bloody battle.

That night I was sitting with Robert and James. Robert was bragging as usual: “So I was facin’ eight Japs and I only had seven bullets left in my rifle so I shot those seven bullets and took out seven of those soldiers with seven perfect headshots. But then, that last soldier came running at me with a sword. I got that sword now.” He grinned and pulled out the curved sword that he had taken. We both looked over at James. He was shivering and staring at the ground. “What about you, James?” asked Robert.

“I-- I don’t know. I killed someone today and I can’t help but think, what if he had a family back home that now has no father or brother? What if I had been the one who got shot, not him? I don’t know how you guys can take it. I saw at least a hundred people die with my very own eyes. They were bleeding all over the place and I couldn’t do anything about it.” He just stopped and stared at the ground. Robert and I managed to comfort him a little before all three of us fell asleep.

The next day was very similar to the first. We advanced steadily, with hundreds of losses. On the third day I heard that one of our ships, the Bismarck Sea, had been sunk by an air attack. Though I was sad for the crew members who had died, I was excited because we had just reached the first airfield, which meant that we would be able to achieve the first part of our goal, which was the airfields.  

I looked around the airfields and saw a huge system of bunkers and pillboxes that were aiming their guns at us. We spent the whole day fighting for it, only to be stopped by a line of bunkers that was right after it. It nearly completely stopped our advance. There was nothing we could do; we had no flamethrowers to smoke them out, so I sprinted toward a bunker and tossed a grenade into the firing slit before sprinting back and diving back behind cover. The grenade exploded, silencing the bunker. Robert grinned at me. “Nice one, but I bet I could do that faster than you did!” he said.

Always eager to be the best, he sprinted toward the next bunker, but before he even got halfway there, he tripped over a rock. I watched in horror as I heard the familiar sound of a machine gun and bullets smashed into Robert’s body, killing him in seconds. I just stared in shock at his bloody dead body. How could he be dead? How could happy, always cheerful Robert be dead? Almost immediately, a cold fury gripped my heart, and I swore that I would kill every Japanese soldier on this God forsaken island. I grabbed a machine gun from one of the dead soldiers and ran at an enemy bunker. I jumped into it and began shooting everyone in it, before proceeding to the next bunker and doing the same. I did this twice more so that our advance could continue. I don’t know how I did it without being killed or wounded, but all I knew at the time was anger.

Later that day, we all received a huge morale boost when we looked south and saw the American flag flying over Mount Suribachi, and when the third Marine division arrived as reinforcements.

The following weeks were long and difficult. The number of casualties grew from hundreds to thousands. We discovered that what we had assumed was a bunch of isolated bunkers, pillboxes, and caves was actually a huge system of connected defenses that were almost invincible. We usually only advanced a few hundred yards per day. The island’s defenders fought to the last man, so I never saw a single Japanese prisoner, only dead ones that had tried to continue fighting despite the odds and been killed or had taken their own lives to avoid capture. The island that was only supposed to take a few days instead took weeks.

We had been pushing north and had finally forced the Japanese to Kitano Point, the northernmost part of the island. We had captured all three airfields and were now close to securing the island. Despite the overwhelming odds, the Japanese still refused to surrender. They had stopped our advance and were fighting fiercely to hold their position. I was shooting my machine gun with James at the remaining Japanese soldiers, when suddenly I heard them shout “Banzai!” and they charged at us. They ran at our soldiers with swords, guns, bayonets, and whatever other weapons they had. Many were cut down as they ran at us, but most made it, and we engaged in bloody close combat with them. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a Japanese soldier raise his rifle, then a gunshot.

James stumbled backwards, blood squirting out of a hole in his chest. My mind could barely process it. First Robert and now James. How was it possible? It couldn’t be. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a Japanese soldier running at me, sword raised. I didn’t even register it until the sword slashed across my arm and then sunk into my stomach. I felt a burst of pain, then nothing.

I opened my eyes. The light was blinding. I wondered if I was dead, but that thought was immediately banished when I felt a burst of pain from my leg and my stomach. I looked around and saw a doctor standing nearby. “You’re awake,” he said.

“Where am I?” I replied.

“You’re on a ship back home,” he said.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“Your wounds have made you ineffective as a soldier. Look at yourself,”  he replied.

I looked down and I was shocked to see that my left arm ended just above the elbow.

“The sword took it off. You should count yourself lucky that it didn’t get infected. That stomach wound kept you out for a few days by itself,” he said.

“Thank you, sir, but could I please have some time to myself?” I asked.

“Very well,” he replied.

Then I remembered the battle. How could both Robert and James be dead? We had known each other since we were children. I should have known my father was right. He always is, I thought. Then I noticed a piece of paper sitting on the table next to my desk. It read:

Casualty Report

United States of America:

6,821 killed

18,070 wounded

Japan:

20,000 killed

216 captured

How could there have been that many casualties? It seemed like nearly of all the troops sent in to capture the island were casualties. That tiny five mile long island that was only supposed to take days took a month and 26,000 lives. All for three airfields?