The Capture of Mount Suribachi

The morning of D+1, the day after D-day, was a cold and miserable one for the marines ashore, dampened by a light rain. Morning light revealed an awful spectacle. Correspondent Sherrod recorded:

 “Whether the dead were American or Japanese, they had died with the greatest possible violence. Nowhere in the Pacific War, had I seen such badly mangled bodies. Many were cut nearly in half. Legs and arms lay 50 feet from any body. In one spot on the s and, far from the cluster of dead, I saw a string of guts 15 feet long. Only legs were easy to identify; they were Japanese if wrapped in khaki puttees, American if covered by canvas leggings. The smell of burning flesh was heavy…”[1]

The destruction was just as great among the materiel. One observer wrote:

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 the 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.[2]

Wrecked vehicles and landing craft on the beach at Iwo Jima.

While the other regiments forged ahead to capture the airfields and secure the rest of the island, the 28th was given the task of securing Mount Suribachi, dubbed “Hotrocks” by the marines. Dawn brought an air attack against Mount Suribachi as carrier planes pounded the volcano with rockets, napalm and bombs, followed by naval bombardment from ships offshore. Command of the 28th regiment belonged to Colonel Harry Liversedge, dubbed “Harry the horse” Liversedge, by his men. Liversedge’s attack got off late, at 8:40 am, and were further slowed by the Japanese and the strength of their positions.

As stated before, Kuribayashi had designed Mt. Suribachi as a semi-autonomous defensive position. The mountain was garrisoned by 2,000 soldiers and navy personnel under the command of Colonel Kanehiko Atsuchi. The mountain was honeycombed with tunnels, gun positions, machine gun nests, etc., and ringing the base of the mountain were a series of mutually supporting pillboxes and bunkers, close enough to render each other support and provide interlocking fields of fire.  Capturing Mt. Suribachi would be no easy task. Kuribayashi intended the garrison to hold out, surrounded and cut off, for at least ten days and possibly a week. The 28th regiment’s advance was met by a hail of artillery, mortar and small arms fire; though many of the really heavy artillery pieces had been knocked out of action by the air strikes and naval bombardment, enough guns of smaller caliber remained to give the Marines a hard time. During the morning, therefore, the marines advanced only 50 to 70 yards in the face of the this determined Japanese resistance. Liversedge called for tank support, but though eight tanks were available, there was no fuel or ammunition for them. But their resourceful crews managed to salvage enough from disabled tanks to commit their vehicles. The Japanese took the tanks under heavy mortar fire, forcing them to move from one place to the other, to avoid damage. Beset by these difficulties, the marines of the 28th therefore advanced only 50 to 70 yards that morning.[3] Even that much progress was due in large measure to the efforts of naval ships offshore providing fire support, and air attacks on the mountain’s defenses. During the afternoon, more progress was made. The tanks were finally able to support the advance, as were halftrack mounted 75- and 37-millimeter weapons of the regiment’s weapons company.

37 millimeter marine anti tank gun in use against Mount Suribachi cave positions

The official marine history records:

In the face of bitter enemy resistance, only split-second teamwork by every unit could gain any ground. The procedure employed was for infantry and tanks to take each pillbox under fire, while a flamethrower team worked up to one of the entrances. After several bursts of flame had been squirted at the fortification, the remainder of the assault squad closed in to finish the job with grenades. Once the occupants had been eliminated, engineers and demolition teams blasted the positions to ensure that they would not be preoccupied by the Japanese after nightfall. Whenever the rugged terrain permitted, flamethrowing tanks were employed against the pillboxes.[4]

Marine flamethrower in operation against Japanese defenses at base of Mt. Suribachi

Using such methods, the marines managed to advance a further 200 yards that afternoon; “in the course of the afternoon, they had closed off nearly forty caves with demolitions.”[5]

The next day, the advance resumed. The fighting was a mere repetition of the experience of the previous two days, although Lieutenant Colonel Charles E. Shephard’s 3rd Battalion, advancing along the western shore of Iwo Jima, killed some 73 of the enemy. From his observation posts, Colonel Atsuchi could readily observe the slow but steady progress of the marines. Casualties mounting, Atsuchi knew that that the fall of Mt. Suribachi was merely a matter of time. Preferring to die in a glorious banzai charge rather than like rats in a hole, he dispatched a message to General Kuribayashi over the telephone wire, stating “Enemy’s bombardments from air and sea and their assaults with explosions are very fierce and if we have to stay and defend our present positions it will lead us to self-destruction. We should rather like to go out of our position and choose death by banzai charges.”[6] But Kuribayashi was having nothing of banzai charges. Replying to Atsuchi, he posed a question: why was Atsuchi wanting to throw in the towel after only three days since the invasion? It was a veiled rebuke, implicitly implying a lack of courage on Atsuchi’s part. But there would be no more stinging rebukes from Kuribayashi’s headquarters, because the marine engineers shortly found the buried cable running from Mount Suribachi back to Japanese headquarters and naturally severed it. As for Atsuchi himself, he was mortally wounded when a 75-millimeter tank round burst inside his cave entrance after he foolishly stuck his head out to get a look around. The night of D+1 found the Japanese gun positions on Mount Suribachi once more shelling the beaches, as American guns, both afloat and ashore, answered back. Tired marine eyes scanned the darkness for signs of an enemy counterattack that once again did not materialize.[7]

February 21, D+2, was another repetition of the activities of the previous day. An air strike of 40 aircraft preceded the ground attack with bombs and rockets. It was the closest air support thus far provided, and it would be last for the 28th regiment in their assault upon Suribachi. They had moved so close to the mountain by now, that the Japanese positions blasted from the air were no more than 100 yards forward of the Marines. For the safety of the marines, therefore, no more air strikes could be delivered. At 8:25 am, Liversedge launched his attack, with the 3rd Battalion in the center, the 2nd Battalion on the right, and the 1rst Battalion on the left. Tank support was slow in getting to the scene, but when it did arrive, the 1rst Battalion supported by armor, half-tracks, and rocket vehicles, reached the western base of Mt. Suribachi. The Japanese were particularly galled by the rocket blasts, and concentrated their return fire against the rocket launching trucks.[8]

Rocket launching trucks in action on Iwo Jima.

In the center, the 1rst Battalion found the going tough, but the marines were tougher, and their attack gained momentum, even repulsing an enemy counterattack on their front. By 2:00 pm, they had reached the foot of Mount Suribachi. The 2nd Battalion, advancing on the eastern shore encountered little resistance at first, but soon were taken under fire by enemy riflemen, followed by machine gunners, and marines began to fall. Then the Japanese opened up with their heavy mortars, and more marines fell. One marine described the Japanese fire:

“It was terrible, the worst I can remember us taking. The Jap mortarmen appeared to be playing checkers, and using us as their squares. I still can’t understand how any of us got through it.”

Enough marines did get through to continue the advance, though as one marine confessed, “there wasn’t a man among us who didn’t wish to God he was moving in the opposite direction.” Private First-Class Donald J. Ruhl of the 2nd Battalion, 28th Marines earned himself a medal of honor in this action for selflessly jumping atop a hand grenade that fell next to his platoon sergeant, Henry O. Hansen, saving the latter’s life. By the evening of February 21rst, the 28th Marines occupied a line which formed a semicircle around Mount Suribachi, the 1rst Battalion on the western shore, halfway around the mountain, the 2nd Battalion on the eastern shore, again halfway around the mountain, and the 3rd Battalion facing the extinct volcano in the semicircle’s center. The progress that was made that day was due in large part to the tank support the regiment received. Of the seven tanks, three were put out of action, one due to enemy fire, another due to an anti-tank mine, and a third busted its tracks. A cold rain fell that evening, chilling the marines. Adding to their discomfort was the stench of death and fire.

Behind them, and all around them were the remnants of the main defenses guarding the volcano. Some of the pillboxes and bunkers had been crushed like matchboxes by naval gunfire; others had been seared black by napalm flames. The entire area was pervaded by the smell of death and burned flesh, where flamethrowers had done their deadly work. The expenditure of flamethrower fuel had reached such proportions that a temporary shortage developed – overcome only when versatile Weasels carried additional supplies to the front lines.[9]

As dusk settled over the island, the marines surrounding Mt. Suribachi could clearly make out Japanese chatter coming from inside the extinct volcano. Trying out a crude, but effective method of rooting out Japanese, the marines poured gasoline through fissures in the rocks, and then set it aflame. Through such a method, they succeeded in killing a large number of the enemy. That evening, inside the volcano, a dying Colonel Atsuchi ordered a squad of men to break through the American lines to reach General Kuribayashi’s headquarters and inform him that the Mt. Suribachi defensive sector had fallen.

Atsuchi may have been just a bit premature. Mt. Suribachi was not yet in American hands, but it was falling fast. So was the rain on on D+3, February 22nd, much to the disgust of the marines. The cold rain turned the volcanic ash to slush, which clogged their weapons, so that they could only fire single rounds. But despite this, Liversedge, undaunted, resumed the advance of his regiment. No air support was available, and no artillery support either. There was tank support, however, but it was severely impeded by the rain. The task of rooting out the Japanese from their dug-outs, caves, and pillboxes, thus fell to the cold, wet, marines. The Japanese resisted with heavy mortar and small arms fire, as the marine infantrymen had to blast and burn their way forward with small arms, flame-throwers, demolition charges, and hand grenades. By nightfall, not only was Mt. Suribachi cut off, but it was completely encircled, and the marines had begun to scale the rock face. Its fall was imminent, but Liversedge declined to carry the crest that night, waiting for morning to do so.

Some 300 Japanese still remained in the extinct volcano, holed up in caves and other places. A vigorous discussion now took place among them as to whether they follow Kuribayashi’s orders and stay in the volcano to die at their posts, extracting as many American lives as possible in the process, or to escape to join up with the rest of Kuribayashi’s army and live to fight another day. The decision came down 50/50. About half the Japanese crawled off into the darkness and tried to make their way north through the American lines, while the other half remained inside Mt. Suribachi. Of the half that escaped, most fell to the accurate fire from the marines, by now alert to the Japanese tactic of night infiltration, but about 20 men succeeded in breaking through the marine lines to reach Japanese headquarters.[10]

They were led by a navy lieutenant. In blood stained unforms, they arrived at the headquarters not of Kuribayashi, but of Captain Samaji Inouye, second in command to Admiral Ichimaru. Seeing the lieutenant, Inouye became furious. “Why did you come here?” He shouted in anger, cursing the lieutenant. “Wasn’t your assignment to hold that fortress at any cost? Shame of you to come here. Shame, shame, shame! Don’t you know what shame is? I tell you that you are a coward and a deserter.” Inouye’s aides tried to calm the furious officer, but Inouye grew angrier. Howling more profanity, he cried, “Under military regulations, a deserter is executed summarily. I shall condescend to behead you.” And with that, Inouye drew his samurai sword and raised it to strike off the hapless lieutenant’s head, who meekly knelt to receive the blow. But before he could make it, Inouye’s junior officers tore Inouye’s sword from his hand. “Ugh!” Inouye mumbled, bursting into tears, “Suribachi’s fallen! Suribachi’s fallen!” The wounded lieutenant, having narrowly escaped beheading, was taken to sick bay for first aid treatment.

On February 23rd, Liversedge’s marines finally scaled Mount Suribachi. The steep slopes of the extinct volcano ruled out scaling it from any direction other than up the north face. This was in the 2nd Battalion’s zone, so Lieutenant Colonel Johnson ordered a small reconnaissance patrol to climb up to the Mt. Suribachi and have a look. At 8:00 am, therefore, Sargeant Sherman B. Watson of Company F, 2nd Battalion, 28th Marines, led a four man patrol up the volcano. There was no enemy resistance as they made, they way up to the top, and they were encumbered only by the steepness of the ascent. With Watson’s report in hand, Johnson assigned a larger combat patrol to ascend the mountain and plant the American flag upon the crest. A platoon of Company E was given the task, and it was led by the company’s executive officer, 1rst Lieutenant Harold G. Schrier. The 40-man patrol made their way up the volcano, carrying the stars and stripes. This particular banner measured 54 by 28 inches. Mount Suribachi dominated the island, and as the marines climbed, American eyes, both ashore, and offshore, watched as the patrol as it inched ever upward. The climb was the most difficult part of the advance; in some places the ascent was so steep the marines had to climb on their hands and knees. Schrier dispatched flankers to guard the column from surprise attack. But it turned out that these precautions were undertaken in vain, for no enemy resistance developed. The only Japanese encountered were corpses. Schier reached the crest first. At the top, Schrier looked around, observing several cave entrances, and two- or three-gun emplacements, but there was no sign of life. He signaled the rest of the men to come on up. They did, ready for instant action, but there was no sign of life within the volcano. Someone now located a 20-foot length of iron pipe. Lashing the flag to this, they planted it in the soft ground. At 10:20 am, February 23rd, the stars and stripes waved atop Mount Suribachi. Photographer Louis R. Lowery snapped a picture of the scene. The momentous significance of the American flag waving atop Mt. Suribachi was not lost on American spectators and ships of the invasion fleet blew their horns, and rang their bells in jubilation, as tired marines wept and cheered from below. On the beach, Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal had come ashore with General Smith. Observing the flag waving from the summit of Mt. Suribachi, Forrestal turned to Smith and said, “This means a Marine Corps for the next 500 years.”

Lowery’s picture of the first flag raising on Mount Suribachi

But there were still Japanese remaining inside the crater, and the stars and stripes waving over Mt. Suribachi was an affront they could not bear. As Sergeant Louis Lowery snapped a picture of the flag waving, a Japanese soldier leapt from out of a cave mouth and opened fire on the photographer. But the aim of the Jap soldier was poorer than that of Private First-Class James A. Robeson, just 16 years old, who returned fire with a Browing Automatic Rifle, dropping him with a long burst. Another Japanese soldier, with a samurai sword with a broken blade, came out of the cave next. American soldier Howard Snyder met this man with a pistol, but the 1911 Colt. 45 misfired. Snyder scrambled out of the way, as a rifle volley from several other marines felled the charging Jap. Hand grenades now came hurtling out of cave mouths and landed near Lowery, who was forced to escape, by leaping over the rim of the volcano and sliding 50 feet down the crest before his fall was broken. His camera was destroyed, but his negatives survived to furnish posterity with a picture of that first flag raising. The marines now moved against that troublesome cave from which the two Japanese had come from, squirting flame into it, and then sealing the entrance off with explosives.

Colonel Johnson believed that the flag planted by Schrier’s patrol was too small, and ordered a larger flag raised. So, three hours later, six marines raised a much larger flag, 56 by 96 inches, over the crest of Mount Suribachi.[11] Joe Rosenthal, a photographer of the Associated Press, snapped a picture of this second flag being raised. It would turn out to become the most famous photograph of the Second World War, and certainly the most enduring one of the entire battle.

Rosenthal’s famous photograph of the second flag raising

Mopping up operations continued that afternoon, as engineers and demolition squads continuing to seal off cave and tunnel entrances, burying occupants alive. By the end of the day, the fight for Mount Suribachi had ended, with the volcano in American hands. It had not been an easy victory. The marines suffered 519 casualties over the four day engagement, including 112 killed. The Japanese by contrast lost nearly the entire 2,000 man garrison. 1,231 dead were counted by the Americans, and hundreds more were sealed alive inside their caves and blockhouses to die by suffocation.

But while the sight of the stars and stripes fluttering from Mount Suribachi was a welcoming sight to the marines, the Japanese naturally found the sight anything but welcoming. As the defense sector had been intended to hold for at least ten days, and possibly two weeks, the Japanese were “very discouraged” when the Mt. Suribachi defense sector fell after a fight lasting only three days. “I never thought of losing Mt. Suribachi in only three days,” Major Horie, one of Kuribayashi’s officers, reported, “I was bursted with emotion.”[12] But though the marines of the 28th regiment had won a significant victory, most of the island still remained in the hands of the enemy, and if the marines thought Suribachi was a tough nut to crack, they hadn’t seen nothing yet. Kuribayashi’s main defensive belts still remained and would have to be pierced. The marines faced a long and hard fight ahead.

Drive to the North

The capture of Mount Suribachi placed one third of the island in American hands, but the northern two thirds still remained in the hands of Kuribayashi, and to defend those two thirds of the island the Japanese general had available to him eight infantry battalions, a tank regiment, two artillery and three heavy mortar battalions. The terrain too, rocky hills and outcroppings with plenty of natural caves, lent itself to the defense. The Japanese had plenty of fight left, the marines were to find out, contrary to the prediction of General Schimdt, who repeated on D+4, that the Iwo Jima’s conquest would take ten days. Schmidt would have plenty of egg on his face in the days ahead.

The day the flag was raised atop Mount Suribachi, the other marine regiments were advancing toward the second airfield. The first airfield had by this time been seized. While the 28th regiment had been taking Mount Suribachi, the other American military units had not been idle.

On the right flank, meanwhile, the 4th marine division had overrun airfield no.1, by noon of February 23rd. It had been a tough fight, with the marines under mortar and artillery fire, and the marines only pushed through to capture the airfield once they received tank support. However, in the afternoon, Japanese mortar fire halted the 23rd regiment’s advance, and the marines dug in for the night. It was not to be a restful one, as the marines were shelled by mortar and artillery fire, and both the 4th and 5th marine divisions had to repulse counterattacks that night. On the left flank, the 5th Marine division had managed a 1,000-yard advance on the 21rst of February. Resistance here was even harder than on the 4th division’s front, and the advance made was only possible because of air and tank support, as well as gunfire support from naval ships offshore. Trying to advance beyond airfield no.1, the 4th division’s two regiments were bogged down by stubborn Japanese resistance in the rugged terrain.[13]

F6F Hellcat fighters attacking Japanese positions in support of the marine infantry.

Sargeant Ross Gray of Company A, the 25th regiment, a devout Christian known for his habit of daily bible reading, known as “Preacher” and “Deacon” by his comrades, attacked and destroyed six enemy emplacements with satchel charges, killing 25 of the enemy, under machine gun fire, and destroying a large amount of Japanese ordnance.[14] Captain Joseph McCarthy of Company G, 24th regiment also distinguished himself that day, knocking out two pillboxes all by himself. The 4th division made advances of up to 500 yards that day, but lost 500 men in the process. General Schmidt now committed the 21rst regiment of the 3rd division to General Cates 4th division to help make up his heavy losses. The early morning hours of February 22nd, found the 5th division advancing on the left, the 3rd in the center, and the 4th on the right. But the progress of the 3rd division’s 21rst regiment was hampered by heavy enemy fire and by cold rain, and by nightfall, the regiment had taken no more than 250 yards.[15]

The 23rd of February, the day the American flag was planted on Mt. Suribachi, found the 21rst Marines ready to attack Airfield No.2, but unable because of Japanese fire from a maze of pillboxes, all mutually supporting. Leckie writes:

In the 3rd division’s central sector, the marines would knock out a bunker or a pillbox and discover that they had ventured into a wicked maze that struck at them from every side. It was just not possible to find a weak spot. The destruction of a single position did not blast a hole which could be widened for a breakthrough. This was because Kuribayashi’s defense system was “mutually supporting.” An attack on one position not only drew the fire of its guns, but also the massed, converging fire of the other positions around it. Knocking out one position put only one small dent in the enemy’s front. It was though the Japanese had constructed a gigantic swiss cheese made of steel and concrete. Into this the 3rd division rammed again and again with very little success.[16]

Company C of the 21rst Marines found itself pinned down and unable to advance. Eight of its flamethrower operators were killed or wounded. But the ninth, Corporal Herchel W. Williams, moved forward under the covering fire of four riflemen. The Japanese feared the flamethrower above all American weapons, and seeing him, four of them rushed him with the bayonet.  Williams turned his flamethrower nozzle on them, and poured a deadly stream of fire onto his foes, incinerating all four of them. For four hours, Williams advanced slowly forward, sticking his flamethrower nozzle into pillbox after pillbox and squirting his deadly napalm into each Japanese position, burning them out one by one. For his actions, Williams would earn the medal of honor.

But Williams could not eliminate every pillbox; there were simply too many of them, and the 21rst was unable to advance very far that day. The American line thus bowed in in the center, as the 4th and 5th marine divisions overlapped the flanks of the 3rd on its advance. What that meant was that the two flank divisions had to stay put, lest by moving forward, they open gaps between them and the 3rd division. The strong Japanese defenses in the 21rst regiment of the 3rd division’s sector thus bogged down the whole entire American advance on Iwo Jima. But the 3rd division would not disappoint. General Eriskine, their commander, had told them to move forward “at all costs,” and that was an order the 21rst regiment could not disobey. Airfield no.2, was protected by some 800 pillboxes that ringed it, and the battleship Idaho, heavy cruiser Pensacola, and marine corps artillery pounded them with shells, while aircraft from the escort carriers added rockets and bombs to the onslaught. The Japanese knew that such a bombardment presaged a major marine advance, and waited for it. The marines now advanced – into the teeth of the Japanese defenses around that second airfield. The Americans were badly shot up. Leckie writes:

But each penetration seemed to become a disaster. Units were raked from the flanks, chewed up – sometimes wiped out. Tanks were destroyed by interlocking fire or were hoisted into the air on the spouting fireballs of buried mines. Engineers crawled through the sands on their knees searching for these kettle-shaped killers, which the Japanese had sown so abundantly, but they couldn’t find them all. Nor could flamethrowers or dynamite knock out all the pillboxes. There were 800 of them in this sector 1,000 yards wide, and 200 deep.[17]

Nevertheless, the 2nd and 3rd battalions of the 21rst regiment, under the command of First Lieutenant Raoul Archambault, stormed through the Japanese pillboxes, and up the high ground beyond. The fighting was often hand to hand and was very costly, the marines employing bayonets, picks, and shovels to dispatch their foes when their guns became clogged with volcanic ash.[18] The tanks were right behind them, eliminating the bypassed enemy pillboxes. By the end of ninety minutes, the airfield and the ridge beyond were in American hands. The Americans dug in for the night. General Schmidt instructed the 21rst to hold at all costs.

A marine communicator on Iwo Jima calls in fire support from artillery to silence the mortars hindering the American advance across the Motoyama airfield.

The 24th regiment meanwhile had attacked a ridge along the southeast edge of airfield no.2, dubbed Charlie-Dog ridge, by the marines. The Japanese on this ridge, commanded by Colonel Maseo Ikeda, allowed the marines to get close and then opened up on them with heavy machine guns, mortars, anti-tank guns and rifles, stopping them cold. The marines called in fire support from their 105-millimeter howitzers as well as their 60- and 81-millimeter mortars. Under this, they pushed on, assault squads blasting and burning the Japanese out of their fortifications, to make contact with the 21rst regiment on their left, and dig in for the night.[19]

General Smith now committed the rest of the 3rd division to the battle, and the division landed before noon of that day and prepared to go into action the following day. The 9th marine regiment of the 3rd division relieved the tired and casualty thinned 21rst. On the 25th of February, the 9th moved against Hill 199, which commanded the second airfield, but was still in Japanese hands. The Americans took it, in part thanks to the courageous actions of Private First-Class Wilson Watson. After destroying a Japanese pillbox by himself, Watson stood atop a ridge, boldly outlined against the sky, and proceeded to shoot down sixty Japanese with his Browning Automatic Rifle. He stopped his killing spree only when he ran out of ammo, and his fellow marines chalked it up to a miracle that his medal of honor was not awarded to him posthumously.[20]

By the end of D+5, marine casualties stood at 7,758. Kuribayashi was exacting a fearful price from the marines in American blood, but slowly, but surely, he was losing his grip on Iwo Jima.[21]

Advance of the 3rd Division

As the 3rd Division moved beyond airfield no.2, pouring through the gap opened in the first Japanese defensive belt running between airfields 1 and 2, they encountered General Kuribayashi’s second main defensive belt crisscrossing the island from west to east. General Smith described it as “the enemy’s main line of resistance.”

This was a broad deep belt of fortifications running from coast to coast, a mass of mutually supporting pillboxes and concrete bunkers, many of them almost buried underground. Behind were thousands of caves and subterranean positions, in the rocky fastness of the north.[22]

The 9th regiment of the 3rd division was joined by the 21rst again on February 28th, and small gains only had been made by the 9th regiment in the meantime. As the 9th regiment forged ahead on that day, they were suddenly attacked by Lieutenant Colonel Takiechi Nishi’s eight remaining tanks. This equestrian playboy had intended to employ his tanks as a roving fire brigade, or mobile artillery pieces, in other words, but the terrain was too rugged for this, and instead, he was compelled to bury his tanks up to the turrets, using them instead as fixed artillery pieces. As the tanks rolled towards the shocked marines, spitting shells from their guns, the shocked marines reacted quickly to deal with the armored threat. Three tanks were knocked out by the bazookas of the regiment’s I company, or by flamethrowers, and air support from the escort carriers knocked out two more. This left Nishi with only three remaining tanks. The 21rst regiment advanced 400 yards by noon, but dogged Japanese resistance delayed them until 1:00 pm, when 3rd battalion, after an artillery bombardment, broke through to Motoyama village.

They were sight of the unfinished airfield no.3 by nightfall. “The southern half of the island was slowly transformed into a sprawling US base as the 31rst Seabees began to repair Airfield No. 1 with heavy equipment, and by nightfall, the strip was ready for light aircraft.”[23] The night of the 28th, General Erskine requested that the 3rd marine regiment, being held in reserve, be committed to the battle. But General Schmidt, in a decision that remains controversial to this day, refused to commit them, citing as the reason why, that there were already enough marines on the island, and that to commit more would increase the congestion problems and confusion ashore. On the 5th of March, the 3rd regiment left for Guam and never set foot on Iwo Jima.[24] On D+ nine, the 3rd division’s offensive resumed, from Motoyama village, and made gains of 500 yards; a late afternoon attack made the gains 600 yards. On the 2nd of March, General Erskine began an attack on Hill 362-B, Japanese from which were shooting down at his men. The Japanese used machine guns and anti-tank guns to stall the advance, and the marines had to call in tank support to destroy the Japanese bunkers, and even their dug in tanks, which were holding up the marines. But the Japanese continued to hold up the marines. The 5th Division took over the responsibility of taking Hill 362-B, which lay inside the 5th Division’s zone of advance anyhow, and the 3rd division pushed ahead to the northeast.

Hill 357 near the Motoyama Plateau was taken, and the 9th marines which had been bogged down by a Japanese complex of defensive positions was assisted in overcoming these obstacles. The assist was unsuccessful and at 6:00 pm, the advance was called off for the day. There was a gap between the flanks of the 9th and 21rst regiments, and the Japanese tried to exploit this that night by feeding 200 troops into it. The marines got wise, and after a ninety-minute fight, 161 of the Japanese were slain. The marines of the now moved toward Hill 362-C, but was stopped by heavy Japanese fire, and bad weather hampered the Americans further. On 5th of March, the Marines received orders to rest that day, a most welcome break. No attacks were launched that day on either side; the enemy was taking a breather as well, although both sides shelled each other with artillery.

Behind the lines, two observation planes had landed on Iwo Jima’s airfield no. 1, on February 26th, and sixteen by March 1rst. This was good news; not so good news was that the burial teams were kept busy burying the dead in rapidly filling cemeteries. The hospitals had the hands full with the many wounded, but once an airfield became available, the hospital staff were greatly helped out by much needed medical supplies and equipment, including blood for blood transfusions, that began to be flown in. Serious casualties also began to be evacuated by air.

USS artillery piece in action on Iwo Jima

On March 6th, the advance resumed with a devastating artillery bombardment by eleven batteries of 132 guns, firing over 22,000 shells against the Japanese lines. But the Japanese simply did their usual thing of retreating into underground tunnels and shelters to wait out the storm, then returned to their bunkers, caves, and blockhouses to stubbornly contest the marines when they advanced to capture Hill 362-C. Though all their big guns had been wrecked, they resisted tenaciously with small arms and machine guns, holding up the marines. General Erskine realized that the immense artillery bombardment had been ineffective and realized that a new tactic would have to be tried if the Japanese were to be dislodged. He resolved to try a surprise attack. Realizing that the Japanese had gotten wise to American tactics, Erskine decided to skip bombarding the Japanese position beforehand. In the early morning hours of March 7th, while it was still dark, the 9th Marines moved out under a biting wind and cold rain to attack Hill 362-C. One battalion moved to take the hill from the left flank; two others would attack with the coming of daylight. The mission appeared off-hand, to be a resounding success, because the marines of the left flank battalion caught the Japanese still sleeping and unprepared, and killed them to a man. However, the marines had made one serious error; they had not attacked Hill 362-C at all, but had mistakenly attacked another less important hill; this attack alerted the Japanese of course, and they correctly guessed the American objective. Lieutenant Colonel Nishi’s tank regiment held the position here, and they poured down and murderous heavy fire, chewing one battalion to pieces, and cutting off two others. To rescue the two battalions from the trap they had walked into, it took thirty-six hours of savage fighting with “tanks doing the impossible on impossible terrain” wrote Holland Smith.

However, the Japanese loss of Hill 331 with its garrison had compromised the Japanese defense of Hill 362-C, and the marines at length succeeded in taking it. By nightfall, the marines had taken all the high ground around the Motoyama plateau.[25] Nevertheless, Nishi’s men still resisted doggedly, though by now they were the ones that were cut off, and eliminating “Cushman’s Pocket” as the marines dubbed it, would take until March 16th. On March 9th, the 1rst Battalion of Company A reached the northwestern beaches, sending back a canteen of water with the famous inscription “For inspection, not consumption.” General Erskine could now rest secure in the knowledge that his men had split the Japanese in two and had reached the sea. After March 10th, the 3rd division’s drive to the coast was over, but they still had to attend to the business of eliminating Japanese holdouts in rear areas.

The 4th Division and the Meatgrinder

While the 3rd division advanced was pushing on in the center, the 4th division on the right flank had run squarely into Kuribayashi’s main defensive system. It was made up principally of Hill 382, the highest hill on Iwo Jima, from whose high ground, the Japanese dominated the whole northern part of the island, a smaller satellite hill known as Turkey Knob, and to the southwest, a natural bowl named the Amphitheater. Both hills bristled with artillery and anti-tank guns, and the slopes and approaches were honeycombed with caves with tunnels. The Amphitheater’s slopes had been fortified by Kuribayashi’s engineers who had built concrete gun emplacements into them, in three layers, armed with machine guns and anti-tank weapons. Colonel Nishi’s dug in tanks, serving as stationary artillery pieces, added their protection, to the mutually supporting Japanese defensive position. Within this complex lay the Japanese communications system, The whole area would be dubbed the “meatgrinder” by the Americans, who faced quite a chore. Getting through it was quite literally murder.

The 4th division launched its attack at 6:30 am on February 25th, after a fierce bombardment by naval and land artillery, as well as carrier planes. The 23rd and 24th Marines advanced then, preceded by their tanks and by tank bulldozers. The meatgrinder was garrisoned by Major General Saduse Senda’s 2nd Mixed Brigade, and as the marines advanced, they were met by a devastating fire from Senda’s machine guns, mortars, artillery, and entrenched tanks, as well as from the rear, where they had bypassed a hitherto undiscovered complex of pillboxes, which now came to life with Japanese as mad as hornets and as fierce as tigers.

The marine advance made 100 yards that first day, then stalled. The next day, gains were again only about 100 yards, but the marines did not knock out those pillboxes shooting at them from behind. This was accomplished by Private First-Class Douglas T. Jacobson. A rifleman, Jacobson picked up the bazooka from a fallen comrade and went on a killing spree. From Japanese position to Japanese position, he ran, destroying sixteen pillboxes, and 75 Japanese, winning for himself a medal of honor and single-handedly ensuring the advance of the marines that day.

Marines display a captured Japanese flag at a pillbox taken from the Japanese.

For the next week, little progress was made as the 4th division as the Japanese in the meatgrinder made hamburger meat out of the hapless marines, chewing them up badly and spilling plenty of American blood. Indeed, blood was being spilled at such a profuse rate, that the 4th division’s hospitals were using 400 pints of fresh blood for blood transfusions in a single day to treat the wounded.[26] But the Japanese were suffering too. “…each day’s assault left Kuribayashi’s eastern anchor weaker and weaker…One by one, the Japanese positions were blasted into rubble or sealed off.”[27] But it was slow, grinding, and very costly work. Colonel Kaido, Kuribayashi’s chief of artillery maintained his headquarters in a large concrete blockhouse atop Turkey Knob, which proved impervious to demolition charges brought up the marines, flame tanks, and a 75-millimeter howitzer firing from point blank range.[28] Slowly, but surely, however, the marines inched ahead until they had surrounded Hill 382. The marines now strove to dislodge the Japanese from their positions at the hill’s base. “The fighting was furious, as marine assault squads blasted cave entrances and fortifications with grenades, flamethrowers, bazookas, and small arms. The marines inched ahead, yard by yard, in close combat with the tough Japanese defenders.” [29] Senda’s men were short on food, water, and ammunition, but neither their stubborn determination, or their fanatical resolve to die to the last man, abated.

Flame tank in action on Iwo Jima

On March 2nd, the 4th marine division again struck the Meatgrinder, and did so with everything it had. Companies E and F of the 2nd battalion, 24th regiment, moved out against Hill 382, preceded, in the usual manner, by tanks, rocket launchers, and artillery blasting the Japanese positions ahead of them. The vehicles than pulled back, leaving the dirty work for the marine infantrymen. Major Roland E. Carey of Company E, and Captain Walter Ridlon Jr. of Company F crawled up to one of Carey’s platoons, that of Second Lieutenant Richard Reich, on the crest under a wrecked Japanese radar screen. Two of Ridlon’s platoons were stuck on a ledge below under heavy Japanese fire. Conferring, it was decided that Crey would send up another platoon and bring up tanks to deal with enfilading Japanese fire.[30] But as Carey sped down the hill to execute this intention, he was hit by machine gun fire and killed. Command of Company E went to Captain Pat Dolan. A few hours later, Donlan was hit by shrapnel. His replacement, First Lieutenant Stanley Osborne, was killed by a bursting shell, which blew off Donlan’s right leg at the same time. Lieutenant Reich now assumed command of the company; its only officer left.[31]  While Company E’s officers were being cut down, F Company was advancing, and resistance was less severe on its front. Reaching a point below the crest of the hill, they swarmed the crest.

“Fierce fighting erupted everywhere on the hill, as the marines swarmed over enemy positions, fighting with grenades, rifles, mortars, flamethrowers, bazookas, demolition charges, and knives and bayonets. Every small weapon the Marines could muster was utilized to pry the stubborn enemy from the hill.”[32]

By 3:27 pm, the hill had been gained, and mopping up operations began to root out Japanese holdouts from their caves. Not until March 3rd was the process of blasting cave entrances and entombing their occupants complete.

Late that afternoon, Reich was replaced by First Lieutenant William Crecink, but the next morning, Crecink was wounded, and Reich replaced him. To replace Reich, Captain Charles Ireland took command—only to be wounded as well. Reich was placed back in command, to be replaced by Captain Robert O’Mealia, who was in turn wounded by a bursting shell. Except for Lieutenant Reich, who seemed to bear a charmed life, command of Company E appeared to be a jinxed position. But Reich would not assume command a fourth time, because Company E was absorbed into Company F, or at least, what remained of Company E, which wasn’t much.

The capture of Hill 382 gave the Americans a good observation post over the northern end of the island, and cracked the Japanese defensive nut of the Meatgrinder, which had lost one of its three principal knives. The Japanese defensive positions of Turkey Knob and the Amphitheater were bypassed and surrounded to be whittled down later.

[1] Quoted in Samuel Eliot Morison History of United States Naval Operations in World War II (Urbana and Chicago, Illinois: Universitiy of Chicago Press, 2001) [Reprint] p. 47

[2] Colonel Joseph H. Alexander Closing In: Marines In the Seizure of Iwo Jima p.  21

[3] George W. Garand and Truman R. Strobridge Western Pacific Operations History of U.S. Marine Corps Operations in World War II (Washington D.C., U.S. Government Printing Office, 1971) 4:531

[4] Ibid

[5] Ibid

[6] Major Y. Horie, Explanation of Japanese Defense Plan and Battle of Iwo Jima p. 8

[7] George W. Garand and Truman R. Strobridge Western Pacific Operations History of U.S. Marine Corps Operations in World War II (Washington D.C., U.S. Government Printing Office, 1971) 4: 533-534

[8] “During the advance it became apparent that the enemy was particularly vulnerable to the heavy explosive blast of the rockets and retaliated by concentrating his fire on the rocket launching trucks which were unprotected by armor-plate. When caught in such a concentration of fire, the crews withdrew to cover and ran up singly to load the rocket platform. When the order to fire was given, one Marine would scamper forward, dive under the truck, then reach his arm around the side to push the firing button. The resulting explosion when the rocket hit the target usually meant that the Marines had one less enemy position to contend with.” (Ibid p. 534)

[9] Ibid p. 536

[10] Ibid p. 539

[11] The six marines from left to right in the famous photograph were: Private First Class Ira H. Hayes; Private First Class Franklin Sousley; Sergeant Michael Strank, Navy Pharmacist’s Mate Second Class John H. Bradley, Private First Class Rene A. Gagnon, and Corporal Harlon H. Block.

[12] Major Y. Horie, Explanation of Japanese Defense Plan and Battle of Iwo Jima p. 8

[13] Michael Russel Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House Inc, 1974) p. 65

[14] Gray would be posthumously awarded the medal of honor for his actions. He would be killed in combat six days later on Iwo Jima. Like Sargeant York, Sargeant Gray was at first a conscientious objector. Robert Leckie explains:

“he…had once maintained that he could not take another man’s life. But when his buddy was killed on Saipan, he changed his mind.” (Robert Leckie The Battle for Iwo Jima [New York, New York: Random House, Inc, 1967] p. 77)

[15] Robert Leckie The Battle for Iwo Jima [New York, New York: Random House, Inc, 1967] p. 80

 

[16] Ibid pp. 81-83

[17] Robert Leckie Delivered from Evil: The Saga of World War II p. 870

[18] Michael Russel Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House Inc, 1974) p. 72

[19] Ibid p. 72

[20] Robert Leckie The Battle for Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House, Inc, 1967) pp. 91-94

[21] Michael Russel Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House Inc, 1974) p. 73

[22] Holland M. Smith Coral and Brass p. 265 https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USMC/Coral&Brass/CandB-13.html

[23] Michael Russel Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House Inc, 1974) p. 76

[24] Ibid pp. 77-78

[25] Robert Leckie Delivered from Evil: The Saga of World War II (New York, New York: Harper Perennial, 1988) pp. 872-873

[26] Robert Leckie The Battle for Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House, Inc, 1967) p. 103

[27] Ibid

[28] Ibid

[29] Michael Russel Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House Inc, 1974) p. 125

[30] Keith Wheeler and the Editors of Time Life Books The Road to Tokyo [World War II Series] Alexandria, Virginia: Time-Life Books, 1979) p. 53

[31] Robert Leckie The Battle for Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House, Inc, 1967) pp. 104-105

[32] Michael Russel Iwo Jima (New York, New York: Random House Inc, 1974) p. 126