Off to War

January, 1944, was ship-loading time for the Fourth Marine Division. We had no idea where we were going but since we were combat-loaded, it was a safe bet Waikiki Beach was not on our itinerary. So we settled down on this troop ship and figured somebody would let us know when we reached our destination. Ours was just one of a lot of ships, and as far as we could see, destroyers, cruisers, battleships, and aircraft carriers surrounded us. The convoy traveled in a zigzag pattern, changing positions frequently to make it difficult for enemy subs to zero in. Sleeping accommodations were not the best, but otherwise the trip was not bad. The weather was gorgeous, the food edible, and we had plenty of time to imagine how we were going to handle this new experience. The Japanese had shown their mettle on Tarawa and had given our Second Division mates a hard time, so we knew what to expect wherever we landed.

Only after our convoy had passed the Hawaiian Islands did we learn that we would land in the Marshall Islands, specifically on Roi-Namur, islands joined by a causeway and part of the Kwajalein Atoll. We needed this area to give us a base from which to launch further operations leading to control of the central Pacific.

We had practiced this business of getting off a large ship and into small boats, but doing it for real was something else. First the landing craft had to be hoisted over the side and put into the water. Then the rope ladders were positioned so the troops could clamber down, loaded with packs and weapons, with each boat moving off making room for the next one. Then came our turn as the tanks were lowered, the crews descended, and all departed to join groups circling some distance away, waiting for the signal to head for shore. While trying to avoid becoming seasick, we watched the Navy hit the objective with shells and air strikes and we wondered how anything could survive. The order to move in finally came, and as we headed toward the scene of destruction, we passed coral islets which, over time, had become sandy beaches topped with lush greenery, a lovely sight compared to the hellish scene due ahead. Explosions in the water nearby told us naval gunfire hadn’t eliminated everybody, so we were still needed.

Once ashore, the training back at Pendleton kicked in and the tanks and grunts began to move. Roi was just one big airstrip and fell quickly but Namur, because of rugged defensive positions, made things a bit more difficult so it wasn’t until the next day that we were able to declare the area secured. That first night was a bit harrowing and I confess to being uneasy, to say the least. The combination of darkness and somebody shooting at you is not good and I was most happy to see daylight. Once we had everything under control, it was time to count our losses which included our Company Commander, among others, and some equipment. All told, we came through in pretty good shape and we now had a base from which our B-24s could strike Truk and other islands in the Carolines to the west. It was a couple of days before we went back aboard ship which gave us time to admire the beauty of the nearby islands that remained untouched. The coral formations were breathtaking and the water crystal clear close to shore, changing from light green to a darker shade and finally a deep blue according to depth. In contrast, Namur had been blown to hell and the smell of rotting bodies was overpowering, but follow-up crews with the right equipment were quickly restoring some semblance of order. We were happy to leave for Hawaii and the island of Maui where we were told a camp had been set up for us.

To guys who had lived in cities or on farms before joining the Marines, the sight of Maui was like a view of heaven, and as another facet of the logistics involved in fighting a World War, this camp had been laid out to accommodate some 20,000 troops and it left nothing to be desired. Tents bordering company streets were aligned perfectly; Quonset huts served as offices while larger Quonset buildings became mess halls and a Post Exchange; and large tracts of land became parade grounds. The site was about 1500 feet above sea level on the side of the world’s largest extinct volcano, Haleakala, which we would visit many times. Unfortunately, rain clouds which passed over the 10,000 foot rim of Haleakala often descended to lower levels and dumped their moisture on us giving us something to complain about. But that same moisture fed the flame trees and the hibiscus and wild roses which, when combined with the lush greenery, the mountains, the cane fields, the palm trees, and the beaches, presented a visual vista of splendor, to be enjoyed daily.

Training resumed shortly after we arrived, and we now had medium tanks to learn how to operate. These took a crew of five, had gas engines, a 75mm cannon, two 30cal machine guns, and a 50cal machine gun mounted on the turret. We lived as a crew, sharing the same tent, training together, enjoying jaunts up to the Haleakala Crater together, and downing a few rum and cokes at the Wailuku Hotel. When on maneuvers, we got to explore some untouched areas, coming across waterfalls and tiny ponds and enshrouded spots so dense, you wondered whether anyone had ever been there before. It was difficult to realize that fighting was going on at that very moment and that we would be heading for the action soon.