BATTLE NARRATIVE
A Perilous Day. Saipan: 22 June 1944.
The quiet ended with a great roar in the dark.
“Before daylight on the eighth morning, the first grand-scale artillery preparation commenced and covered all the lower slopes with bursting shells and a haze of smoke,” wrote 1Lt. Frederic A. Stott. “It was an impressive demonstration, looked effective, and heightened spirits as we moved out. Scanning with field glasses showed that the defenders, if any, were invisible.”[1]
At 0600, RCT-24 jumped off for the day’s attack, with BLT 3-24 and BLT 1-24 leading the way. The next phase line (O-5) was nearly four thousand yards away over difficult, hilly terrain, so Division headquarters designated an “intermediate objective” they called “O-4A.”[2] The ground itself turned out to be the toughest adversary of the morning, for the Japanese defenders all but abandoned the area. Within an hour, Lt. Col. Austin R. Brunelli had his command post on the move; they established a new post near Road Junction 260 by 0730. Spirits were high. “Lt. Tom Kerr, our whimsically scientific communications officer, half-seriously wagered that he could safely circle the northern part of the island in a jeep and check in with the 2nd Division,” recalled Stott. “There were no volunteer drivers!”[3]
Kerr’s optimism was not entirely unfounded. No “sizable, organized number of the enemy” had engaged BLT 1-24 in the past four days. Baker Company reported a big group of prisoners – thirty laborers and two women – at 0810, but indicated no difficulty in escorting their charges to the rear. Half an hour later, Able Company found a promising position on some high ground just short of their “final objective” and paused, wondering if they should dig in. [4] Brunelli instructed Able and Charlie Companies to occupy O-4A, anticipating the arrival of a Division order to press on to O-5 as planned.[5] Other American units were facing tougher resistance – especially the RCT-25, fighting on the left flank – so Captain Irving Schechter and Captain Horace C. Parks checked the speed of their advance, covering as much of the front as possible without creating gaps with friendly forces to the left.
Meanwhile, Baker Company and Lieutenant Stott headed down a road to meet a group of tanks. Here, too, the Japanese had seemingly melted away. Baker Company spied a blockhouse on the beach at Target Area 164S; it was abandoned and packed to the gills with mines, so the Marines gave it a wide berth and moved on. There was a worrying moment when a pair of Japanese tanks – possibly survivors of the 9th Tank Regiment – appeared on the road, but they were driven off or destroyed by 37mm antitank guns. Shortly after 1000, all three BLT 1-24 companies were advancing together in close contact. Able Company parked itself on O-4A at 1025; Baker Company arrived an hour later after negotiating a tricky minefield.[6] By 1330 hours, all assault units were in position on O-4A and waiting for the signal to move ahead. Division allowed the men a brief respite; at 1445, they were advancing again.
The morning of D-plus-7 was unremarkable. The afternoon would be unforgettable.
“He never had a chance."
To the north of O-4A lay the foothills of Mount Tapochau – a series of steep-sloped rises several hundred feet high, covered by thick woods and separated by low gullies. After fighting through the cane fields for several days, BLT 1-24 found this new terrain both challenging and exhausting. Further complicating matters was the Kagman Peninsula on the right flank. The terrain here was flat and friendly, but Baker Company had to keep shifting to the right, facing east as well as north. “With too wide a frontage for three under-strength rifle companies, we were soon compelled to commit all strength on the line,” commented Lieutenant Stott. “And even then, it was an impossibility to maintain good contact.”[8] As Baker Company pushed on towards Laulau with the tanks, Able Company kept moving north through the hills, while Charlie Company tried to bridge the ever-widening gap.
Overlooking Laulau and the Kagman cane fields is a low ridgeline that rises gradually to a point at its far eastern end. It had no name; topographic maps listed only its height in feet, and so it became known as “Hill 646.”[9] As it ran parallel to the Marine line of advance, it acted like a wedge driving between the flanks of Able and Charlie Companies, cutting them off from each other.
It was now midafternoon, and even Captain Schechter’s “Rugged Able Company” was feeling the effects of heat, height, and a long march. Hill 646 was their last major objective for the day, and they were comforted by the thought of resting in a position that easily commanded the surrounding area. As the advance scouts entered a small clearing, they suddenly signaled a halt. Ahead of them lay a Japanese position – well constructed and camouflaged, but apparently deserted. To 1Lt. Harry D. Reynolds Jr., it seemed that the enemy “had stepped out of their concealments to go for supplies.”[10] The Third Platoon quickly moved in, flopping to the ground in sweat-soaked bundles and hoping that their day was over.
Everyone suffered in the heat, but the men who worked on crew-serviced weapons had it worst of all. PFC Howard Kerr’s squad carried a “light” machine gun (31 pounds) and tripod (14 pounds) along with their own packs and personal weapons. As an ammo carrier, Kerr toted at least 500 rounds of belted ammo for the gun – more if immediate combat was expected. “We got to the top of the hill and we were exhausted,” he recalled. “We were dragging a lot of equipment, machine guns, mortars, and a couple straps of MG belts around our neck. We settled down in what looked like a real nice spot. Just all zonked out.”[11]
Tired as they were, the Marines could still enjoy the antics of PFC David W. Brunjes, a 20-year-old machine gunner from Pilot Grove, Missouri. Brunjes was in a good mood despite the heat, and his jokes and clowning had his buddies in stitches. There was a loud popping sound, and Brunjes collapsed dramatically over his machine gun. The laughter stopped abruptly. “We thought he was joking around,” said PFC Wallace W. Duncan. “It took us a moment to realize he was dead.”[12] Fragments from a Japanese grenade had ripped through Brunjes’ back. A shower of grenades arced out of the woods and began exploding around the gunners. Howard Kerr realized that the “real nice spot” was a deliberately cleared fire lane. The Japanese were back.
Corporal Norman H. Reber, a machine gun squad leader, quickly assessed the danger and took off running for Captain Schechter. Reber breathlessly reported the situation, then turned around and raced back to his men, with Lieutenant Reynolds close on his heels. As he crossed a cleared area, a Japanese machine gun spat fire and Reber fell to the ground, instantly killed. “If Norman hadn’t disregarded his own personal safety to give me the situation, the Jap attack would probably have been more successful and a company would have been destroyed,” Schechter wrote in a condolence letter. “He gave his life to save a hundred others.” Sergeant Jack T. Sayers agreed. “In making the supreme sacrifice, he earned himself a place of honor in the devotions and memories of all of us.”[13] The same burst hit Lieutenant Reynolds in the shoulder, but “Big Harry” ignored the wound and went to work organizing the defense.
As he hurried through the underbrush, Corporal Vernon D. Rigdon stumbled – quite literally – onto another Japanese gun crew setting up their weapon. “I was right square in front of that gun,” he later said. “I dropped to one knee and my rifle was over the barrel of that machine gun – that’s how close we were.” He shot the two soldiers, then emptied his clip at a few more running away. As Rigdon reloaded, a sniper in a tree sent a bullet through his neck and into his chest.[14] PFC Tommy Lynchard helped drag his friend to safety. “I held Rigdon’s head up while the corpsman tried to doctor his gunshot wound. He was hit hard; blood was gushing out all over. I got sick at my stomach for about ten minutes.”[15]
The Japanese quickly realized that Third Platoon was essentially isolated and intensified their attacks on the right flank. A third Able Company NCO, Corporal Edward J. Horan, took charge of the situation and organized enough men to hold the line while Platoon Sergeant John Yaniga dispatched a rifleman to find the rest of the company. Casualties were quickly mounting, and Yaniga redeployed the platoon to offer better protection for the wounded while they waited for help to arrive.
Farther down the hill, PFC George A. Smith was catching a breather. After suffering back-to-back concussions earlier in the battle, “Gunga Din” Smith was more or less back to his naturally buoyant self. He discovered a new coolness in battle, a balm for his self-esteem shaken by his crying jags under shell fire. Face-to-face, he could stand up to anything – even a sword-swinging Japanese soldier running at top speed.
I didn’t take the sword – I never did take a souvenir sword or anything like that. Usually we were all too busy to bother with things like that, and I never understood about taking trophies, anyway. Why would you want to remember something like this?[16]
Smith learned another trick for bolstering his courage. The platoon corpsman, “Doc Ski,” had a liberal attitude towards medicinal alcohol; Smith only had to sniffle a few times and say “Doc, I ain’t feeling too good… think I might cry.” A shot of LeJon brandy, and “Gunga Din” was ready to fight on.
Now, Smith’s buddies were watching a demolition squad from another unit take on a Japanese cave. The gunners heckled, catcalled, and shouted advice. “We were up on a cliff above them, and the Japanese were below us. Every time that squad would make a move on the cave, we’d cheer them on just like a football game,” recalled Smith. “We were having a grand time, watching somebody else do the fighting.”[17] The sudden rattle of concentrated firing interrupted the fun, and then Yaniga’s runner came tumbling down the slope hollering for the gunners. Smith shouldered his machine gun and followed squad leader Corporal Thomas M. Hurley up the hill. His assistant gunner, PFC Charles L. “Cease” Stafford, was close behind with the tripod. They pushed and cursed through the thick foliage, unable to see more than a few feet, following the sound of the gunfire.
The first thing Smith saw as he crested the hill was his friend Norman Reber, bleeding from the neck and head, obviously dead. “Reber got hit right off the bat. He never had a chance. I remember seeing him just laying there face down.” Yaniga appeared, shouting orders in his thick Pennsylvania Dutch accent, and then disappeared just as quickly. As he looked around, Smith was struck by the impression that his squad was all alone. He didn’t expect to see the Japanese, but with all the firing going on he never saw another Marine.
Cease Stafford flung the tripod to the ground, and Smith fit the gun into the pintle. An ammo carrier pitched a box of 250 rounds in his direction. With practiced skill, Smith opened the breach, seated the belt, slammed the cover shut, and squeezed the trigger. The gun spat two rounds and jammed.
Smith swore. The problem was a maladjusted headspace; he knew the cause of the problem as surely as he knew which Marine was responsible.[18] As he raised the breach to clear the jam, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his wrist. Cease Stafford screamed as a bullet hit him in the arm. “Cease got hit between the elbow and the shoulder with an explosive bullet,” said Smith. “It literally took the bone out. The only thing holding his arm on was some skin on the inner side.” The entire episode, from warning to wounding, lasted less than ten minutes.
It was now approximately 1530 hours, and the BLT 1-24 comms net was buzzing with traffic. A flamethrowing tank was dispatched to help Able Company, but was likely stymied by the rough terrain. Charlie Company held the other side of the hill, and was the only unit in a position to render aid. Their Third Platoon (1Lt. Thomas W. Cox) and machine gunners (1Lt. Alexander Santilli) rushed over to the left flank. Sergeant Jack W. Aeby, a squad leader in Cox’s platoon, “courageously led his squad in advance of his platoon” until they hooked up with Corporal Horan’s embattled group. With contact established, Aeby turned his attention to “directing and controlling the fire of his group” until the battered Able Company platoon could get out of danger. “Saint” Santilli’s gunners added their firepower, while “Tommy” Cox directed the attack – even after a projectile shattered his kneecap.
This stretching of the line put Charlie Company in a risky position, and another group of Japanese troops made moves to break through. In response, executive officer 1Lt. Thomas A. Schultz commandeered Charlie’s remaining two platoons and led “a bold assault on strongly fortified hostile positions… annihilating approximately forty enemy troops.” Shouting for stretcher-bearers, he hurried off through a “torturous tangle of heavily wounded area occupied by scattered enemy troops” with his volunteer runner, PFC William J. Quadrozzi, right on his heels. Schultz personally oversaw the evacuation of twenty-five wounded Marines, and was returning to the company when “they were found by an artillery barrage,” in the words of Captain Parks. “Bill [Quadrozzi] died next to [Schultz], with whom he had been working that day and for whom he had volunteered.” [19] Schultz was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross.
It was beyond apparent that Able Company was not going to hold the summit of Hill 646. Schultz’s counterattack, plus the covering fire of Santilli’s and Cox’s platoons, gave them enough breathing room to disengage and move back a hundred yards to a more defensible ridge. Captain Irving Schechter, who comported himself with great coolness and courage throughout the attack, made sure every wounded man was evacuated before directing the “advance to the rear.” With Able out of immediate danger, Charlie Company had to negotiate their own withdrawal. Sergeant Aeby, the first man in, was also the last man out and remained in position until the rest of his platoon was safe. As he turned to follow, a Japanese bullet struck him in the back of the head, inflicting a fatal wound.
“Walking wounded aid each other back to rear lines for medical attention." USMC photo by Cpl. Claude Warnecke.
“I sure could use a brandy."
As chaos unfolded on the hill, George Smith found himself in charge of a squad’s worth of wounded men. Although shot through the left wrist, his wounds were slight compared to the others. “Cease” Stafford’s shattered arm hung limp and useless at his side. PFC Raymond J. Jordan was hit in the face; shrapnel lacerated his right eye. “I was leading Tiny Jordan down the hill because he couldn’t see,” Smith recalled. “He was the only [wounded] guy I ever heard crying, and I don’t mean to belittle him at all – I felt the same way about my eyes.”[20] PFC Prentis M. Parsons had pieces of shrapnel in his back, dangerously close to his lungs. Air whistled in and out with every breath, and Smith started to giggle uncontrollably, on the verge of a breakdown. He also realized the only weapon in the group was his Ka-Bar knife. “A Japanese boy scout could have taken all of us,” he said.
Fortunately, the foursome happened to wander into the battalion aid station where surgeons and corpsmen were working overtime. Smith turned down the proffered morphine – he didn’t like the syrettes – and gave “Doc Ski” a wry smile. “I sure could use a brandy.” The sailor was in no mood. “Serves you right,” he said, bandaging Smith’s wrist. “You drank it all, and now I don’t have any!” Some of the wounded men were passing around bottles of sake, taking healthy swigs to speed the effects of painkillers. A jeep pulled up to the aid station, and Smith recognized three old friends. Corporal Howard E. Smith sat astride the hood holding a BAR, while Corporal Virgil E. Cawood and PFC Jeff E. Jowers stared aghast at the mass of wounded men. As Gunga stumbled past, the drivers quietly passed him two bottles of wine. Smith chased one with the other, and when another corpsman offered a shot of morphine, he accepted. “Boy, I’m not feeling anything at all!” he proclaimed.[21]
The sheer number of wounded could not be handled by Jeeps alone, and a caravan of ox carts – probably the same ones used by the 81mm mortarmen to haul ammunition – were loaded with wounded Marines. The rough wheels on the rough roads jolted the men into howls of pain, protest, and profanity. One unfortunate man became the subject of mirthful scrutiny. “Where are you hit?” solicitous doctors and teasing Marines would ask. “In the ass, damn it” came the reply. With every subsequent inquiry, the man became more and more incensed, and the laughter grew louder and louder over the sounds of continued gunfire from Hill 646.
Shortly before 1700 hours, BLT 2-24 – the regimental reserve – deployed to help fill gaps in the front line. At around the same time, orders to prepare defenses and tie in with flanking units arrived. Able Company spent another harrowing hour cut off from support; at 1800 hours, their position was reported as “isolated 500 yards to right of 3rd Battalion – 600 yards left of ‘C’ Co.”[22] This was not an ideal position, nor was there any favorable supporting ground. Lieutenant Colonel Brunelli himself made a reconnaissance under fire and, by “skillfully reestablishing his lines” 200 yards farther to the rear, managed to create a solidified battalion front.[23] “Consolidation fortunately resulted,” noted Stott, “for it had been a perilous and strength sapping day.”[24]
Stott’s assessment was an understatement. D-plus-7 was the battalion’s second bloodiest day on Saipan thus far, with seven dead and 45 wounded – mostly from Able and Charlie Companies.[25] Two more men were evacuated as “sick,” while a further six suffered slight wounds and stayed on the line. A long list of names would be submitted for decorations, including Norman Reber, John Yaniga, Edward Horan, Irving Schechter, Tommy Cox, Al Santilli, Jack Aeby, Thomas Schultz, and HA1c Samuel B. Murrell, a 19-year-old corpsman attached to Charlie Company. A distressing number of these awards were posthumous.[26]
At long last, the caravan of casualties reached the beaches they had crossed just a week before. There, they joined a much larger group of wounded men waiting for a ride to the hospital ships off shore. Smith, exhausted, nervous, and loopy from his self-prescribed painkillers found himself in a large wardroom aboard one such ship. Medical personnel went from man to man to determine the nature of each wound before deciding on treatment and priority.
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the middle of the room. A clipboard-carrying hospital corpsmen approached the Marine with the wounded posterior, secured his name and basic information, and then asked the fatal question: “Where are you wounded?”
The Marine reached his breaking point. A pistol appeared in his hand. “I’ve been shot in the ass!” he shrieked at the unfortunate corpsman. “If I hear any goddamn jokes from you, I’ll clear this room right out.”
Sailors and wounded Marines stampeded for the hatches, clearing the ward in seconds. Gunga Smith followed, bursting into hysterical laughter.
Everything caught up with him at once – not just the wine and the morphine but all the consolidated horror of the past eight days: the close calls, the dead friends, the stress and privation and the overwhelming relief at being safe at last. Gunga Smith felt his stomach flip; he made it to the rail, vomited, and collapsed on the deck feeling “very, very ill.” The next thing he knew, he was in a bed with clean sheets, sailing for Hawaii, leaving Saipan behind him forever.[27]
[1] Frederic A. Stott, “Saipan Under Fire” (Andover: Frederic Stott, 1945), 10.
[2] “Since the attainment of the assigned objective [O-5 Line] would require an advance of approximately 4,000 yards over difficult terrain in the Division’s zone of action, the Division operations order prescribed an intermediate objective (O-4A).”Clifton B. Cates, “Fourth Marine Division Operations Report, Saipan, 15 June to 9 July 1944,” (18 September 1944), 22. Hereafter “4MarDiv Ops Report.”
[3] Stott, 10.
[4] “Action Report: First Battalion, 24th Marines Record of Events, 15 June – 9 July 1944″ (24 August 1944), 1. Hereafter BLT 1-24 Report. The War Diary offers some confusing information for 22 June. At 0840, “Companies are almost to the O-5(A) line” – when no such line was designated. At 0841, “A Co is on high ground 15 yds from final objective.” At 0942, “Companies are 400 yds from O-4A.” It seems unlikely that Able Company managed to advance within 15 yards of their objective all alone, when 24th Marines report indicates that the assault battalions had reached “a general line approximately 1,000 yards short of O-4A prior to noon.”
[5] BLT 1-24 Report. Per instruction, all units were to be “prepared to continue the attack toward O-5 on Division order.”
[6] Ibid.
[7] Stott, 11.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Stott refers to this place as “Hill 700” while other veterans sometimes mention “Hill 600.” Military maps show the actual height as 646. Schechter uses the name “Hill 646” in correspondence regarding the fighting here.
[10] “Reynolds, Wounded 3 Times, Calls Buddies ‘Real Heroes,'” The Daily Argus (Mount Vernon, NY) 15 March 1945.
[11] Howard M. Kerr, oral history interview conducted by Leslie Sheridan, Howard Matthew Kerr Collection (AFC/2001/001/65492), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[12] Wallace W. Duncan, interview with the author, 2009.
[13] “Parents of Marine Learn Their Son Died a Hero to Save Lives of His Comrades,” The Pine Grove Herald (27 October 1944). Reber was awarded a posthumous Bronze Star medal.
[14] Gerry May, “War movie sent Vernon Rigdon to World War II combat,” KTBS-3 online, 17 April 2015.
[15] Tommy Lynchard, unpublished personal papers. Author’s collection.
[16] George A. Smith, interview with the author, November 2009.
[17] This and all further narrative relating to George Smith is compiled from several interviews and personal correspondence collected between 2008 and 2013.
[18] Weapons maintenance was essential for every Marine, but even more so for crewed support weapons like machine guns. If one failed at a critical moment, many lives were jeopardized. Smith dismissed his guilty squad mate as “a real eight-ball” of whom such behavior was typical.
[19] “PFC Quadrozzi Volunteered For Duty That Cost His Life,” The Berkshire County Eagle (Pittsfield, MA) 25 October 1944.
[20] Smith. Jordan eventually recovered his sight and returned to his pre-war occupation with the Tampa fire department.
[21] Smith. Cawood and Jowers were former Able Company machine gunners; “Tiny” Jowers was once Smith’s squad mate.
[22] BLT 1-24 Report.
[23] Austin R. Brunelli, Silver Star Medal citation. “When two of his companies were reduced in strength by heavy Marine casualties and were forced to withdraw a short distance from the assigned objective after a day of continuous assault over almost impassable ground, he promptly made a personal reconnaissance in the face of savage fire and, skillfully reestablishing his lines, resumed contact with the adjacent units, thereby ensuring the success of the day’s operations.”
[24] Stott, 11.
[25] This casualty rate did not match 16 June (D-plus-1) and was later eclipsed by 8 July (D-plus-23), making it the third bloodiest day of the battle.
[26] Reber, Bronze Star (posthumous); Yaniga, Bronze Star; Horan, Silver Star; Schechter, Bronze Star; Cox, Bronze Star; Santilli, Silver Star (posthumous, KIA later in battle); Aeby, Silver Star (posthumous); Schultz, Navy Cross (posthumous); Murrell, Silver Star. This is only a list of known decorations; there may be several others.
[27] Smith, personal interview with the author, 2011. To this day, Smith maintains he has never had the slightest desire to return to the island.
Battalion Daily Report
Casualties, Evacuations, Joinings & Transfers
KIA/DOW
WIA & EVAC*
SICK
JOINED
TRANSFERRED
STRENGTH
Out of an original landing strength of 888 officers and men.
* Does not include minor wounds not requiring evacuation from the line.
| Name | Company | Rank | Role | Change | Cause | Disposition |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Adelmann, John Charles | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg & left arm | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Aeby, Jack Winton | Charlie | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial |
| Andree, Eugene Martin | Baker | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Baker, William Leroy | Headquarters | PhM2c | Corpsman | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Bauknecht, Earl Charles | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Beehner, Kenneth August | Headquarters | First Lieutenant | 81mm Mortar Officer | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, ankle | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Brown, Charles Earl | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Brunjes, David William | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Killed In Action | Grenade shrapnel, back | Removed for burial |
| Buckley, Charles Earl | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, face & shoulder | Evacuated to USS Arthur Middleton |
| Chalifour, Joey | Charlie | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left leg | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Colburn, Dallas Merritt | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left upper arm | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Cox, Thomas Woodrow | Charlie | First Lieutenant | Leader, 3 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Multiple grenade wounds; fracture left patella | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Davenport, John Howard | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Davis, Fred Jr. | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, back | Removed for burial |
| Davis, William James | Able | Corporal | Clerk | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left side | Evacuated to USS Cavalier |
| Devoy, Clifford Joseph | Able | Corporal | MG Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Fracture, right foot | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Dombrowski, Edward Joseph | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, back | Evacuated to USS Fremont |
| Enright, Thomas Joseph | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated to USS LaSalle |
| Flood, William Ralph | Charlie | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Frazier, James Russell | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gulla, Peter | Charlie | Corporal | Clerk | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, hips | Evacuated to USS LaSalle |
| Henderson, Claude Thomas Jr. | Able | Corporal | Mortar Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Henderson, Ernest Thomas | Able | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg & shoulder | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Jordan, Raymond Joseph | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right eye | Evacuated to USS Comet |
| Klopf, Willard John | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated to USS Clay |
| Lamberson, Floyd William | Charlie | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Martin, Clarence Edward | Headquarters | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Matulica, Andrew | Charlie | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right upper arm | Evacuated to USS LaSalle |
| McCaleb, General "J." | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| McCormick, John Calvin | Charlie | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Killed In Action | Decapitation | Removed for burial |
| McMullen, James Louis | Headquarters | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right knee | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Miller, Gerald Delone | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Compound fracture, right femur | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Moore, Eugene Leroy | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Palardy, Laurent Rene | Able | PFC | Demolitions | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left arm | Evacuated to USS Clay |
| Palmer, Ronald Royal | Able | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left buttock | Not evacuated |
| Parsons, Prentis Mace | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, back & lungs | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Patterson, Gerald Francis | Able | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left lower leg | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Piche, Edmond Samuel | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated to USS Rocky Mount |
| Pledge, James Thompson | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Pruitt, James Thomas | Charlie | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion; deafness | Evacuated to USS Feland |
| Quadrozzi, William Joseph | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, back | Removed for burial |
| Reber, Norman Henry | Able | Corporal | Machine Gunner | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head & neck | Removed for burial |
| Reynolds, Harry Dare Jr. | Able | First Lieutenant | Executive Officer | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoulder | Not evacuated |
| Rigdon, Vernon Drew | Able | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, chest & neck | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Riley, Blaine | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action (Fatal) | Gunshot, right side | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Santilli, Alexander | Charlie | First Lieutenant | Leader, MG Platoon | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Schultz, Thomas Arthur | Charlie | First Lieutenant | Executive Officer | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| Shaw, Kermit | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left shoulder | Evacuated to USS Fremont |
| Smith, George Apple | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left wrist | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Spohn, David Winkelmann | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Stafford, Charles Lee | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, compound fracture right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sullivan, Eugene John | Headquarters | PFC | Scout | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right thigh | Evacuated to USS Monrovia |
| Swoyer, Joseph Dell | Baker | First Lieutenant | Leader, MG Platoon | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Teliha, Joseph | Headquarters | Corporal | Radioman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left shoulder & intracranial injury | Evacuated to USS J. Franklin Bell |
| Trusilo, Walter Edward | Headquarters | PFC | Lineman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| White, Bruce Allen | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, nose & chest | Evacuated to USS Arthur Middleton |
| Wood, Roy Irving Jr. | Able | First Lieutenant | Leader, 2 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right thigh | Not evacuated |
| Yaniga, John | Able | Platoon Sergeant | NCO, 3 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right thigh | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Yates, Clyde Odell | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Yawn, Darrell Preston | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
