-One Man Remembers-
By: George W. Nations
WWII
The following notes are
some of my experiences in combat on
My first impression of
combat started very early in the morning
After breakfast we went
above deck to our tank and started checking our equipment again for the
thousandth time since leaving
The excitement of going
ashore grew as we slowly moved closer toward the beaches of
Promptly at 0900 hours the
firing stopped and the first wave of amphibious tractors went ashore. At this
time we are still about three or four miles offshore, our tanks,
"B-Company" is landing in reserve. It was very exciting now sitting
on top of our tank turret watching through field glasses as the Marines go
ashore in wave after wave. First, armored amphibious tractors shell the beach,
then amphibious personnel carriers land with men, then Higgins Boats, all
putting large numbers of Marines ashore into the hostile environment of Iwos’
volcanic ash beaches. About 1000 hours we saw our first tanks slowly making
their way up the beach. It seemed like forever before they moved up from the
beach and out of sight. All this time our landing craft, LSM-141 was moving
closer to the line of departure that was about 2,000 yards off the beach. The
old battleship
I’ll never forget the first
thing I saw as the ramp fell, giving us a clear view. The first terrace was
only 30 to 40 feet in front of us. Marines were dug into this terrace or trying
to dig in. The foxholes would cave in before the hole was large enough for a
man to get his body below the surface. Their faces were covered with black
volcanic ash form trying to take cover. They looked much like an ostrich
putting his head into the sand, only to find his body still exposed. Their
faces were very young and showing unashamed fear. At first I did not understand
why they were so afraid but as our tank turned right on the beach I began to
realize why. The beach was littered with Jeeps, trucks, amphibious tractors,
Higgins Boats, men and equipment in various degrees of destruction. We were
able to go only a short distance before we had to stop because of a Jeep stuck
in the narrow stretch of beach between the terrace and the surf. We were
contemplating driving over the Jeep when a Marine jumped in, started the engine
and because he was unable to drive forward, put it in reverse and backed into
the surf, giving our tank clear passage. To my right was an amphibious tractor.
A large shell had blown its armored turret inward. It’s name in bold yellow
letters, ‘Lena Horn’. Every time I hear her name or see her picture, my mind
sees this amphibious tractor in the surf with its turret twisted in an awkward
fashion from the explosion of this shell, the surf splashing over her. The crew
must still be inside, all dead.
We continue up the beach
for about two-hundred yards dodging the various obstacles and looking for our
guide who was supposed to meet us. We finally reach the location where the
guide was supposed to be and stop. We know minefields are ahead. Before coming
ashore, we had discussed removing the waterproof stacks mounted on our exhaust
and intake manifold at the first opportunity. The exhaust re-circulates through
the intake causing the engine to overheat in approximately forty-five minutes.
We are getting close to that time, so I told Lt. Steiner this pause was our
opportunity for getting rid of these stacks. With his okay, I opened my hatch
and quickly leaped out onto the engine compartment just behind the turret. The
terrific noise of gunfire and shells landing was a real shocker. Never had I
heard so much incoming and outgoing fire in all my life and I’m outside the
tank, not inside. I scratched and clawed with my fingers and finally pealed
away the waterproof tape so that the latches could be released enabling me to
push the stacks off the tank. I’m now sitting behind the turret for cover
thinking about climbing on top of the turret to get back inside. I’m looking
out to sea. We are about 30 yards from the surf. A Higgins Boat is just
reaching the beach loaded with Marines when a shell lands on the starboard side
near the stern. Marines are running from the boat as the ramp falls. They leave
about one-third of their men inside. After forty years I can still see their
lifeless forms hanging over the sides of this Higgins Boat. The boat sinks and
becomes part of the destructive scene as it washes back and forth in the surf.
There was nothing anyone could do for the men inside the boat. Without thinking
of my own safety, I slowly climbed inside our tank, almost in shock from this
experience. This was to be only one of many such incidents that sometimes keep
me awake at night.
A Marine walks out in front
of our tank and motions for us to follow him. He stands upright as if there was
no danger within a thousand miles. He guides us to a minefield marked with
ribbon, gives us a sign to stop, walks up to the drivers hatch and bangs on it.
McIntyre opens up and they talk for a few moments. Of course we could not hear
a word of what was being said. Then Mac tells Lt. Steiner, on the intercom, we
will be passing through a minefield and must not skew the tank since we have
only six inches clearance on each side. The mines are buried Horn Mines which
are designed to sink ships. You can imagine what they would do to a tank. Needless
to say, this caused us some concern but we made it without any trouble.
We continued on to the
front lines near Airfield #1. Our first shots were fired to destroy stored
drums of fuel located off the side of the landing strip. We soon began leading
an infantry unit around the airstrip toward the west beaches. Someone gets on
the field telephone, which is mounted on the rear of each tank. He tells us he
has a target for us and talks us into firing position. The target is an
observation post, directing mortar and artillery fire down on the area. One
round from our 75MM tank gun loaded with a high explosive shell and the O.P. is
no more. This was our first kill, the first of countless others. We refuse to
think of them as human beings, only targets. Our first night on the island was
fairly quiet but we were never sure of what to expect. Our tanks were stopped
at our most forward position near Airfield #1 on the west side. The infantry
formed a line on either side of our tanks and there we stayed for the night.
Scott and I had the 2nd
guard shift,
Guard duty is very rough on
us after being in the tanks all day. Lt. Steiner doesn’t do a guard shift but
he almost never sleeps and stays on guard from inside the tank. He was always
looking, listening on the radio, and keeping up with everything going on. We
were so tired we tried to sleep at least three to four hours a night.
The second day we started
to lead an attack, continuing north along the side of Airfield #1. Shortly
after moving out we were hit by an anti-tank gun firing directly down on us
from about 100 yards. Our tank filled with smoke, sparks flew around inside and
we all thought this was the end for us. We backed down from that position as
fast as possible. Lt. Steiner immediately got on the radio to report this to
Capt. Sands, our Company Commander. We looked for damage but found none. The
loader of the anti-tank gun had placed a high explosive shell in the gun, if it
had been an armor piercing-high explosive shell as it should have been I would
not be writing this today. Later, we found the shell was perfectly placed, just
under our gun shield directly in front of where I’m sitting. This is the most
perfect place to penetrate a Sherman Tank from the frontal area. This was a new
47MM high-velocity anti-tank gun, which had never been used against us in the
Pacific.
After calming our nerves
for a few minutes we decided to try something we learned while in training at
Lt. Jarvis was very nervous
after this and was never forced to go back into tanks. Sgt. Unger took over the
4th platoon and did such a good job that he was given a field
promotion to 2nd Lt.. Then he did such an outstanding job he was
awarded the Navy Cross along with Capt. Sands later in
The only thing I can
remember about the third day was about our 1st platoon of tanks
heading a squad of infantry across the East-West runway on Airfield #1 to
attack high ground to the North. I was so busy I remember very little of what
happened. I do remember how sorry I felt for the Marines outside, trying to
huddle up very close behind the tanks using us as shields against the
relentless fire coming from the higher ground on the other side of the runway.
The air was literally full of tracers streaking in both directions. They
somehow managed to follow us across the open runway through such heavy machine
gun fire it would seem impossible for anyone to live though it.
As mentioned previously,
the first few days on
be the first night our tank
battalion personnel other than tank crew were ashore. The people were truck
drivers, mechanics, etc. They also took over the guard duty we had been doing
at night. Our first foxhole was just in front of our tank, along side Airfield
#1. The runway was a built up area creating an embankment a few yards from us about
ten feet high. On the edge of this runway were old Jap airplanes, wrecked and
pushed aside. As the wind blew that night the wrecked planes made all kinds of
noise. Being the first night ashore, the guys on guard duty were a bit nervous.
I’m told they fired off and on with machine guns into the airplanes all night
long. The tracers were going directly over our foxhole about four or five feet.
The reason I had to be told about this the next morning was because of this
being my first night outside the tank where I could stretch out and was
sleeping on soft sand rather than hard steel, I didn’t wake up or hear a thing
until daylight. We had been in tanks every day from just after daylight until
almost dark, then doing guard duty for half the night, I was exhausted and
slept so sound it didn't matter what was going on around me. It is very
dangerous to get this tired and not be able to wake up.
About ten days later our
tank battalion established a permanent bivouac area a short distance further
North still along side Airfield #1 but near a large sulfur blow hole. Scott and
I found some old boards and a small shell crater and built us a first class
foxhole. The entrance was just large enough for a slim person to get through.
The top was covered with about three feet of sand. The boards were not strong
enough to support any more weight. We could stretch out and sleep inside, one
of us always slept with our head near the entrance. If during the night we
heard a strange sound, it was easy to look up using the sky as a lighted
background and see anyone outside. We spent many hours with a cocked 45 waiting
for anything to come between us and the sky. Nothing ever did. The Navy fired
star shells over our area every night. This light up the sky and helped to
prevent a sneak attack. These were fired by a destroyer a few hundred yards off
the beach from a five inch gun. Each time they fired this five inch gun the
ground would shake causing sand to fall through our boards, usually into my
face. If it wasn’t the gun fire it was sand crabs digging around causing the
same problem. We would still rather have a covered foxhole than one with no
cover.
One night some one walked
over our foxhole causing sand to fall all over us. Scott and I slipped out side
with 45’s in hand, our corpsman was going back to his foxhole late at night. He
had been out helping a wounded Marine. Every time he walked near a foxhole, his
own life was in danger. We never go outside at night, your best friend might
shoot you thinking you were the enemy.
Heavy gun fire on the beach
had made it almost impossible for ships to unload supplies. Some of our
ammunition dumps had been hit and destroyed. We are now getting very low on
machine gun and 75MM tank ammo. One afternoon someone came up from the beach
and unloaded ammo near us. He only had 81MM mortar ammo. The units around us
divided it. They only got five rounds each. The only tank ammo we could get was
75MM for Pack Howitzers. This was very poor ammo for use in tanks because of
the low velocity.
On the 4th day
planes from
I do remember the 5th
day very well because of several things. We have a fresh supply of ammo and
start out heading a drive north on the west side toward Airfield #2 and Hill
#362. The infantry starts out with us as planned but the mortar and artillery
fire is so intense they are unable to continue. Our tanks, "B
Company" move out together without infantry support. We find targets everywhere,
bunkers and gun emplacements were built then covered with sand to look like
natural terrain. I heard someone on the radio say, "Look for sand dunes
with slots in them." We had already found them. We would drive right up to
a bunker and fire point blank into the slot with a high-explosive shell, then
move on looking for others. Sometimes we had to move quickly because heavy artillery
shells were bracketing us. If a shell fell in front of us a few yards then
behind us a few yards, we would move quickly to the fight of left. There were
so many shells and bomb crates it was sometimes difficult to move in the
direction we wanted to.
About
I’m now in Sgt. Tuttles
tank, it is disabled and an air strike and Naval gun fire has been called for
in this area. All tanks have been ordered to leave immediately. I’ve never
understood why Lt. Steiner has withdrawn leaving us behind. We are not talking
to Capt. Sands on the radio, giving him our position and directions to find us.
He arrives with only 10 to 15 minutes left before time for the air strike and Naval
bombardment to start. While sitting in this disabled tank we have been hit or
near hits many times with mortar and artillery shells. Thank God for the thick
skin of this
Capt. Sands stops just a
few feet behind us. Sgt. Tuttle gives me a carbine rifle and tells me to shove
off first. He didn’t have to tell me a second time. I’m anxious to get out of
there. I crawled under Capt. Sands tank and waited for the escape hatch to
drop. When I entered, the first face I saw was big ugly J.C. Razor, Capt. Sands
driver and one of my best friends. Red instrument panel lights exaggerated his
unforgettable features. His greeting was, "Howdy Pog." He called
Scott and me Pog, short for Poggie Bait, Marine Corps slang for candy. Anyone
caught eating candy very often is likely to be called Poggie. He may not have
been good looking but he sure looked good to me under these conditions. We all
get into this tank and make our way back to our camp as the Navy began their
bombardment of the West side of the island near Hill #362. A corpsman bandaged
my arm and eye, otherwise I’m okay. Capt. Sands talked to me about this
incident and his concern for me, much like a father would have. Later in Hawaii
Capt. Sands was awarded the Navy Cross for this action. The award goes into
detail about his rescue of the five of us in the face of an Air Strike and
Naval Bombardment as well as the terrific fire being received from the Japs.
The Navy Cross is 2nd only to the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Needless to say, all of us were very proud of him.
Since we now have only two
tanks in the First Platoon, I did not go back to the front for several days.
The following morning just at daylight our remaining tanks leave for the front
as usual. I along with Sgt. Tuttles crew are left behind. The tanks were hardly
out of sight when mortar and artillery fire starts. We are now in the open
foxholes with no tank above us for the first time since arriving on
During the time of not
being in a crew, I have several experiences worth writing about. One morning as
the tanks leave, I went to our Battalion Communications Post to listen to our
ranks in action on the radio. A friend of mine was the radio operator and
needed company. We were watching our last tanks go out of sight when a sniper
fired a rifle at us hitting a sandbag between me and my friend, no more than 12
inches from either of us. We ducked below the sandbags and continued to listen
to our tanks on the radio. Next a mortar shell falls about 100 feet in front of
this position, a few seconds later another shell falls just behind us about the
same distance away. This appears to be a bracket of mortar fire on our
position, so I decided it was time to leave for safer grounds. Lucky the radio
operator did not get hit, but he had to stay there alone since I did not like
being a target.
A couple of days later a
Marine with a war dog walks down the trail past our area. His dog smells
something and wants to leave the tail. He pulls on the leash but does not bark.
I could not see them in the bushes but heard a single shot. There was a Jap
playing dead, now he really is dead. The Marine with the dog walks past us in a
casual manner. We had to ask what happened. He tells us the Jap was wounded and
playing dead.
Scott and I also went
souvenir hunting during this time. Being in a tank all the souvenirs are taken
before we get a chance to look around. So we decided this was our opportunity
to look for them. We walked about a mile to the front lines. During this walk
we almost step on a booby trap (trip wire with explosives) and get shot at by a
Jap so close the blast hurt my ears. He was in a cave above us and we could not
see him. We dove into a bomb crater with a dead Jap. We waited for a few
minutes then got the hell out of there. The only thing I found was a Jap helmet
with the back of his head still in it. Someone had shot him almost perfectly
between the eyes. He was also the only Jap I ever saw shot only once. Usually
they are shot many times. I carried this helmet back to
I remember the tenth day because
we received some Red Cross supplies, toothbrush, soap and things like that.
There was only water for drinking and brushing teeth, no bathing. We were also
issued some clothes, blankets and socks. Our packs were strapped to the outside
of our tanks and did not survive. We had no supplies at all until now. I took
off my shoes, changed my socks and put them back on. The next time I took them
off was two days before leaving the island.
Finally Lt. Steiner asked
me if I wanted to go back in his tank crew. Of course I said yes, he didn’t
know how glad I was to get back in a tank crew and stop dodging mortar and
artillery shells. We now have our original crew together again. We stay
together for the remainder of our tour on
Company ‘A’ and Company ‘B’
tanks leave very early one morning for the front. Lt. Anderson of ‘A’ Company
was the lead tank passing on a road between Airfield #1 and Airfield #2. His
tank hit a mine setting off the ammunition inside his tank. The explosion blew
the tank apart. The turret was blown completely off and landed about 50 feet
away from the chassis. All were killed instantly except for one man. Pfc.
Plummer was blown clear of the vehicle. All of his clothing was blown away, he
was badly burned but lived. A friend of his in a following tank jumped out and
pulled him to safety. He later joined our company in
A few days later, Scott and
I were given the task of trying to clean up the cupola hatch from this tank. It
was badly needed to repair one of ours. In the ball bearings of the hatch we
found Lt. Anderson’s flesh and hair. This was the tank commander’s hatch
located directly above him. We became sick and could not finish the job,
someone else took over to finish it. We were always having tanks knocked out or
put out of commission. Even if they burn, parts were salvaged and used to
repair other tanks.
Our tank was hit one day by
a huge shell that started a fire in the engine compartment. We left in a big
hurry only to find it didn’t burn too badly, but would still not run. Scott was
sent back in to place a Thermit-grenade in the gun breach, it rolled out and
instead burned my jacket. I later got my pipe from the ashes of the jacket. Our
tank was repaired in a couple of days and we are back in the front lines again.
On our way in we pass two
Sherman Tanks which are burning. The crews managed to walk out safely. We moved
into position and led an attack that gained about 400 yards. For the first time
I saw Japs running. We had bypassed their positions and now they had to try and
slip past us in order to join their forces ahead. They were coming from behind
us to our right in a gully. I saw four Japs and fired the machine gun at them
as they ran. One jumped behind a rock just big enough to hid behind while the
others disappeared. We fired a 75MM round into the rock he was hiding behind.
There is now so much dust we don’t see them again. We advance slowly for a few
yards to about where the Japs were last seen. As our tank maneuvered around a
large boulder we saw a Jap sitting down with no clothes on, he appears to be
blind and is crying. We fire a burst from the machine gun at him just as we do
our tank turns slightly to the right. The burst misses his chest and takes his
left arm off at the elbow. His life’s blood is now leaping our in great spurts
and in rhythm with his heart beat. Our next burst hits him in the chest and his
body slams back against the ground with a great invisible force. I’m not proud
of this, but it happened forty years ago. We had a different outlook on these
things.
We had lost so many young
Marines we couldn’t let a Jap live even when trying to surrender. At this late
stage of the battle our feelings will not let us take a prisoner. The Fifth
Marine Division takes a total of only about 150 prisoners. I saw 6 prisoners
taken. One of them was wounded. The wounded Jap had been hit during the night
and left laying there. We were outside our tank taking a break just a few yards
from where this happened. Two Marines with a stretcher came by and stopped to
talk with us. They had already gone in to pick up the wounded Jap, but the
Marines nearby would not let them. They wanted him to lay there and slowly die.
I’m sure they had good reasons to feel like this. The stretcher bearers were
worried because they had been ordered to not come back without this Jap
prisoner. They now have to go and beg the Marines to allow them to take this
wounded Jap prisoner. The wounded Jap is needed for questioning. In about 20
minutes they come back and again stopped to talk and take a break. They were
glad to have this over. Snipers were shooting at them as they picked up the
prisoner. The Marines were hoping the prisoner would get shot instead of
themselves.
One of our tanks in ‘C’
Company had a Jap trying to pry open a hatch, a second tank shot him. Thinking
he was dead he was left lying there over the engine compartment. As they
cleared from the front lines, the tank commander, a Sgt., opened his hatch and
stood up to look around. The Jap was not dead as thought. He shot the Sgt.
Through the head with a pistol killing him instantly. The following tank now
chops the Jap to pieces with their machine gun. We therefore always make sure
the Japs are dead. They never get shot once but many times.
Everyday now, we are going
into a sector of the line where tanks are needed most. Usually a different
place each day. Our infantry has suffered terrible casualties. We pick up a
guide to point our targets for us, a Pfc. Acting Platoon Leader. He is the
senior most man left. A platoon leader should be a Lieutenant. The terrain in
our sector is so rough we have to use a bulldozer to make roads so tanks can
get in. We now have a bulldozer blade fitted to Sgt. Tuttles tank. We always
work in pairs, at least two tanks to protect each other. The Japs would wait
behind rocks or in a place they know tanks have to pass. They would try to get
close enough to throw explosives under the tank to blow it up. To prevent this
we would position ourselves along side of the tank working on the roads. A Jap
jumped from behind a rock with a satchel charge and ran toward the tank we are
guarding. He ran directly into our machine gun fire and fell just short of
getting the charge under our bulldozer tank before the charge exploded. We fire
our 75MM in addition to the machine gun on either side of the bulldozer tank.
There is so much dust we can’t see for a few seconds. He now is backing out of
the dust as fast as possible. With all this fire close around hem he thought he
was a goner. To us this was very funny, we later had many laughs about this
incident.
One job is also to guard
flame thrower tanks. Almost every major target is burned our by flame throwers.
Sometimes the Japs would run from their cover when they saw a flame tank light
up. Of course it’s already too late for them to run now. The carnage goes on in
endless days, all of our daylight hours are spent in tanks, day after day. Only
once after getting back in our crew did I miss a day going into the lines.
After a very rough time I was so sick I could not get up the next morning. The
fumes and exhaust got the best of me. By the following day I had recovered and
was back in our tank again.
We had thrown out our water
cans and everything else inside to make room for more ammunition. We only
carried a canteen of water each and a C-ration each. We store 45 boxes of
30Cal. Machine Gun ammo inside, fill the ammo rack with 110 rounds of 75MM and
strap another 8 to 10 rounds to the deck under the loaders feet. These are used
first. We also carry two complete spare machine guns. We usually burn out the
barrels on two of these each day. The would get white hot from so much rapid
fire, the tracers would explode a few feet in front of our tank. The barrel was
so hot the lead bullet was melting as it passed through the barrel. This caused
the tracers to go up in one poof. Of course you can’t hit a target with guns in
this condition, so they must be replaced. At first we only carried spare
barrels but soon found out it was almost impossible to change them out when
they are this hot. We managed to get complete spare machine guns. There are 250
rounds in each box of 30Cal. Machine Gun ammo. We still run out of ammo
sometimes before the day is over and have to get other tanks to relieve us.
That is over 11,000 rounds
through two machine gun positions in our tank in one day, plus over a hundred
rounds of 75MM ammo. Before pulling out of the front lines we would give the
infantry our remaining 30Cal. ammo and all hand grenades. These were passed out
through a port in the turret. After being in tanks for 12 to 14 hours a day we
were exhausted. Sometime I could not hear well enough to talk or understand
people talking to me from all the noise inside, including the radio earphones
we had to wear in order to follow instructions from the tank commander. My
hearing is still bad from this.
Our cooks are now fixing
hot C-rations for us in the evenings. At least it is hot. This is much better
than cold K-rations. One day we were sitting in our tank near the front lines
waiting for a guide to point out targets in that sector. Lt. Steiner decided
that if we were going to have time to eat our K-ration lunch that day, we had
better do it now. When he mentioned this I complained about the smell and
wanted to wait for awhile before eating. He said there would not be time to eat
later and if I wanted to know where the awful smell was coming from, just look
in the road a few yards in front of us. I turned the turret so I could see. A Jap
had been killed in the road and had been run over by tanks. He looked perfectly
flat just like a paper doll. This was the first time I had ever seen a human
being in this condition. I did not enjoy my lunch. We only eat to have the
strength to continue.
Since I’m thinking about
eating, I have one other story on this subject. Scott and I with three other
Marines from another tank crew were heating C-rations which had just been
brought up from the beach. They had been unloaded in a huge bomb crater next to
where we were parked. This was our first time to have C-rations and we wanted a
hot lunch. Using Sterno, we were trying to heat meat balls and spaghetti. We
had just started eating when an artillery shell hit just a few yards from where
we were sitting, so close that dirt and dust went all over us ruining or food.
We dove under our tank for cover. As the dust cleared, I could see one of the
guys still sitting there trying to keep dirt and dust out of his food. He was
calling the Japs all kinds of names for ruining his lunch. He had not moved an
inch, just sitting in the same place trying to fan the dust away. The shell had
fallen in the bomb crater where the C-rations were stored. A Marine had just
gone there to get a case of food and was killed. Death was everywhere, there is
no safe place on this island. Only the lucky ones escape unhurt. I had been in
the very spot to get rations a few minutes before. Only god knows why it wasn’t
me.
After loading up with all
the ammo we could possibly carry, we move out for a sector of the lines held by
the 26th Marines. They had not been able to move forward very much
in several days. We are on the North side of a place called Bloody Gorge.
General Kuribayashi's headquarters are believed to be located there. There are
many heavy fortifications here, some with 10 feet thick walls. These are
usually burned out by flame tanks then sealed by our bulldozer tanks. The cover
and pillboxes get the same treatment. The terrain is so rough our bulldozer has
to make roads for every advance. When our troops first fought into this area,
the word was passed that tanks were through since the terrain was impossible.
Our infantry did not have the manpower to move without our support. We had to
get tanks in somehow. The only way was to make passable roads as we moved in.
We manage to advance several hundred yards to a point where we either have to
stop or go into the gorge itself. We guard the bulldozer tank for hours as he
makes a path into this gorge. This requires cutting and filling an area where
there is about a 20 foot vertical drop into onto the gorge floor. Finally, we
are able to drive our tanks directly into the gorge. Our two tanks are now
alone inside a walled area several hundred yards long and about a hundred yards
wide. We drive in circles shooting up everything in sight. After about 45
minutes of this, the infantry moves in to consolidate this position. This is
the last large stronghold left on
The gunner in Sgt. Tuttles
tank started firing into an area where we had just seen Marines move into. They
had moved into this area from behind his tank, he didn’t see them go in. He
apparently saw movement in this area and thought it was Japs. Lt. Steiner could
not get them on the radio for some unknown reason. He tried everything but they
would not answer us or stop firing. I’m so concerned about our tank firing into
an area occupied by Marines, I volunteer to go outside and get on their field
telephone and try to stop them. Lt. Steiner was hesitant in allowing me to get
outside under such heavy fire, although I was able to do so on the beach. He
opened his hatch to check on the amount of fire around us. Japs started
shooting at his hatch when he opened it, so much that he was afraid to put his
arm our to reach the handle and close it. We could hear the bullets going
through the air above us and sometimes hitting around the open hatch. Lucky for
me I didn’t try going out first. I would never have made it. The Marines soon
set off a smoke grenade for identification and the tank stopped firing. We
never know if anyone got hit. All of us try to be careful and not fire on our
people, but in situations like this it does sometimes happen. The distance
between the Marines and the Japs is often only a few yards.
The sun was going down when
we finally got out of the gorge. We passed out our few boxes of 30
The last Japanese strong
hold has fallen. We were in our tank about 100 yards away when a bunker
believed to contain the Japanese General Staff was blown up with thousands of
pounds of explosives. The ground and tank shook as if an earthquake had hit. If
there had been another major area to take, I doubt if the 5th Marine
Division would have been able to find the manpower to take it. Everyone was
exhausted and to the breaking point, none of us could go on much longer.
The next morning about 400
Japs from this area launched a counter attack up the West beach. They started
before daylight, we could see the machine gun fire and mortar fir from sitting
on top of our tank. It wasn’t long before Sgt. Tuttle came over to inform us we
had been selected to go up and help clean up the Japs. Our 1st
Platoon had cleaned out our tanks the night before and were unarmed in
preparation for leaving the island. We complained bitterly so another Platoon
of ‘B’ Company was selected to go. With field glasses we watched as our tanks
fired into the Japs position. Soon everything was quiet again. This was one of the
few times on
The area where this attack
took place was occupied
by non-combat troops and
there were many casualties among them. While we were standing around our tanks
watching, an Army soldier came up and started talking to us about what was
going on up there. He was a black soldier and obviously very scared. He told us
about the Japs cutting peoples throats while they were sleeping and lots of
people getting killed. He said, "There is hell and destruction man, hell
and destruction. Them Japs are mad at you white boys. They ain’t mad at us
black boys." He was very serious but we thought he was very funny. After
finding out our tanks were disarmed in preparation for leaving the island, he
took off at a fast walk toward
The next day was spent
cleaning up the area. Would you believe we had to pick up trash or anything
else laying around and try to make this place look presentable. Scott and I
threw our few damaged rounds of tank ammo into our foxhole and filled it with
sand. We weren’t about to carry this damaged ammo a hundred yards to an ammo
dump and stack it as instructed. Funny how the Sgt. doesn’t argue with a couple
of tired and desperate Marines wearing 45’s. Even Lt. Steiner looks the other
way when we have a disagreement. We also took our first shower since arriving
here, changed clothes and socks, throwing the old clothes away in the nearest
foxhole of course.
At last we are departing
The food onboard was not
much better than C-rations, some meals not as good. This ship had left the
Of his friends finally
stopped him and talked him into putting the pistol away. The nest morning the
Ships Captain ordered all Marines to turn in their ammo for all personal
weapons. All of us turned in some ammo and hid some. We could not face the
feeling of being totally defenseless. Even on our ship, without a loaded weapon
we felt defenseless. For awhile I thought I was the only one with this feeling.
After talking with my friends I found out they all felt the same way. It took
years to get over this feeling, even today when I’m in a strange place where
conditions are uncertain, I want the feeling of security, a 45 gives me that
feeling.
On our way back to
Just a few days before we
arrive in Hawaii we hear on the ships radio that President Roosevelt has died.
These were indeed sad days. Everyone in the Marine Corps felt the President was
a real friend. His oldest son is an officer in the Marine Corps. He had taken
time to come to Camp Pendelton and watch our 5th Marine Division in
practice landing operations prior to our going to Hawaii.
The 5th Marine
Division had suffered such severs casualties, they were able to bring our
entire Division back to
The next day our battle scared
tanks returned. They were driven up from the beach to Camp Tarawa. The marines
lined the streets watching them drive through camp to our parking area. This
was the first time I had seen them all together since we left for Iwo Jima. It
was hard to believe how battered and beat up they looked. Every tank had huge
marks all over where shells, shrapnel and bullets had hit them.
As mentioned at the
beginning, I hope this doesn’t sound like I was trying to write a novel. It
certainly was not intended to be. I did not try to give a history of the 5th
Divisions role in taking Iwo Jima, only what I participated in. My job as a
tank gunner allowed me to see and do only limited things. Our world was only
what we could see through a gun sight or tank periscope. This is what I was
trying to describe, even then I’ve left out many things I felt did not need to
be written here. This was not intended to be a horror story, only some of my
experiences I felt worth telling and talking about.
One thing I’ve learned from
this experience, with proper training, Americans can be some of the worlds best
soldiers. The Marine Corps certainly gives young men that training. War is no
game, it’s a struggle between life and death, the best trained, best equipped
men have the best chance to survive. I thank god for my decision to go into the
Marine Corps and receive this type of training and fight with people who only
knew how to win. Losing was never a consideration. When I volunteered to join
the Marine Corps a letter of recommendation was required. A friend of my
fathers, a former Marine, at this time a Lt. Colonel in the Alabama National
Guard, wrote this letter for me. In his letter he pointed out that I was of the
type of
young man who fought in the
Marine Corps at
All of the men I knew were
of this type, I’ve never heard of anyone who refused to do his job because he
feared for his life. All of us faced each day knowing it could very well be our
last, but this was never allowed to interfere with whatever had to be done.
Even if we had known we would be killed it would make no difference.
I still have faith in the
youth of this country. If the occasion ever arises again, these same kind of
young men will answer their call to duty and defend this country to the death.
This was demonstrated just a short time ago in
George Waddell Nations
Born July 23, 1926
Died
The
Semper Fidelis