Blood of Iwo Jima

Motoyama Airfield

February 27.

We were on the perimeter of the airfield. Dug in and prepared for the inevitable battle, Our Lieutenant told us to take a head count of our ammo, what you got and what you need. Motoyama was heavily defended and to take the airfield we had to get across the rocky hills before hitting the actual field. Cleaning our weapons only made the battle seem more hopeless. Dale was sharpening his machete he got a Pavuvu for Christmas. You could almost feel the tension.

Iwo Jima was meant to be an emergency landing field for B-29s wounded over Japan. We had to take this airfield by the end of tomorrow since there was going to be a big run, probably around four hundred bombers. The 4th Marines was tasked to take the field at all costs and apparently that was what was gonna happen. The japs had just about every soldier on this half of the island manning some gun pointed directly at us. The silence before battle always made me feel uneasy. Artillery didn’t zoom overhead. Sporadic machine gun fire didn’t send us ducking for cover. Even the damn snipers were holding off. We all knew why they were holding their fire. They were saving their ammo for our attack.

Only my will power kept me from running away. Dying on this shit hole island wasn’t appealing and I would gladly take a year in prison to being killed.

Our battleships fired salvo after salvo into the airfield and I knew were getting closer and closer to the battle. Dive-bombers, high above in the sky, dove on the Jap defenses and blew the living hell out of the sand bag fortresses. Our Lieutenant walked up with a sport whistle. He checked his watch and blew as hard an s he could. The shrill noise was like a warning to the japs to load their guns. The fucking Lieutenant was basically killing his own men.

We began to slowly jog across the plains toward the airfield. The hills offered cover before we attacked the actual field. Able Company began to cross the runway while the other companies remained covered in the hills. A Company was running across the field taking cover behind three broken bombers. One platoon moved out and was less than one hundred yards from the main control tower when the machine gun opened fire. Spraying the men with heavy fire, the entire unit went down before anyone could even pull back. Dead men littered the ground and the wounded lay in the open trying to remain still as possible. More Navy guns opened up and half the hangar was blown apart by one shell. Our Lieutenant stood up and motioned his arm forward.

“Were moving out. Lets move and kill some Japs!!!”

         His attitude was of optimism because he wasn’t the one who would die if things went wrong, yet would be the one who got all the damn credit if we actually survived and took the airfield. We moved over the hills and walked into a shooting range. Artillery dropped down on it and us almost became an endless whistle of death. Every round was our demise and in thinking this it made it easier to ignore the artillery.

         We reached the spot were first platoon had been annihilated and began to return fire. The artillery we knew was coming from the hills miles away, but the small arms fire was within the tower and bunkers lining the runway and hangar. Farther down the line, hundreds of marines were moving towards the bunker in a flanking attack. We could only hope they took the northern hill before the airfield artillery battery zeroed on our position.

         Tracers zoomed through the air and the white-hot glow left my mind tumbling. Those nips couldn’t miss forever and eventually one streak of bullets was gonna kill us. Third platoon was beginning to move across the plain, except this time the Jap observer didn't one us pinned down. Four rounds of 155mm cannon dropped in on the men and before I could even blink fourteen men were lying dead on the ground before us. Dale leaned over and yelled.

“Can’t they fucking send us to attack something when we aren’t a damn target. Those guys are probably wondering what the hell happened.”

Wounded rolled in agony as the medics helplessly watched. One medic ran out only to be shot in the back by a sniper. Those son of a bitch japs couldn’t even respect or medics. Every American was a dead one. The blood seemed to flow endlessly onto the sandy rock and I could see the distraught look in the wounded’s eyes. They knew nobody was gonna save them this time and I could see their hope fade as more and more machine guns began to target the mess.

         Dale was pounding away with his M1 and put in a fresh clip as he selectively picked off Jap after Jap crouched between the bunkers and the runway. More marines were coming in from our north and some japs were turning their attention towards their rear. Hell, that lessened the amount of stress on our position enough for the lieutenant to take the remaining troops over the hills and into our position. The Lieutenant had real fear in his eyes, the type of fear that washes away all capability of command and makes a leader shit his trousers. 1st Sergeant Welsh took up position next to him.

“Yeah boys, Lieutenant here has lost it, so I’m in charge!”

         He grabbed the handset of the radio to his side and began yelling into it.

“I want ten rounds on Motoyama airfield azimuth 234 over!”

         Three rounds zoomed overhead, striking within twenty yards of the sandbag fortress. Welsh turned the radio on again.

“Fire Mission, try twenty left, over. This time fucking hit it!!”

         Four more rounds were fired and all but one struck close to the fortress. Welsh were exasperated and finished the fortress of.

“Correct five down. Set that as a target concentration for sector Charlie!!”

         The last three came down directly on top of the fortress and blew sand bags so high in the sky we had to duck. One came down with ten feet of Dale. The imperial sign of Japan was stitched into it, making it all the more important for dale to spit on it. Wels set down the radio set and began to run for the airfield. On this go, we didn’t take any casualties and made it to the bunker. We had taken the airfield.

         February 28

         Dog Company was sun bathing on the runway one day after we had fought for it. We had lost many good men, but in the end we were victorious. Lying on the open space without anyone shooting at us was rare. The 5th Marines had advanced into the northern tip of the island and were routing the enemy, but we would need to reinforce them tomorrow. As Welsh got us ready to move out, a low drone echoed in my head. That drone got louder into a whine as smoking B-29 came in low over the southern edge of the island. On fire and seriously damaged, it was trying to make an emergency landing on the runway. We scrambled out of the way as she hit on her belly and came fucking sliding down the runway. Skidding to a stop at the end, ten men ran for home as the shit heap exploded. We cheered for their survival as they ran down the runway’s length. I realized that the reason we lost so many Marines was to prevent men like that bombers crew from ditching in the sea and drowning in their ships.

         Knowing this, I felt that the men fighting died heroes, not in vain. This thought made me even more confident for when I had to kill a Jap face to face. That time wasn’t now though, as we walked off towards the northern beaches.