Robert Edward Tierney

All quotes are from Bob Tierney’s personal memoir, “My Marine Corps Experience.

 
I was a junior in High School at Waupaca, Wisconsin on December 7, 1941. I immediately made up my mind that as soon as I graduated from high school, I would join the US Marine Corps. The following year, a ruling was made that anyone joining the military service in the second half of the school year (and was in the upper portion of the class) would be awarded a diploma at graduation.

A busload of us recruits were sent to Milwaukee for our physical exams, I went through all of the required exams until I got to the height requirement station. You had to be 66” tall; I was only 65 ½”. The doctor in charge told me to go to the next exam station, “but stand on the ball of your feet.” I made the 66” requirement and was accepted. I was sent back home and had to wait five weeks for my notice to report to [the] San Diego recruit depot. There were so many enlistments that it took that long before there was room for us.

It was quite a change from what we were used to: get in line for medical shots, haircuts,  new clothing, instructions (lots of instructions). The first morning the bugler sounded reveille at 0530, you woke up and questioned, “where am I and what have I gotten into?” We were all 17 or 18 years of age at the time. We were given 30 minutes to shower, shave etc., fall in for roll call at 0600, [and after go] to the chow hall. We did have very good meals, but no menu, of course – you ate what they prepared.

From 0800 to 10:00 we had classes on everything pertaining to the Marine Corps. Lots of calisthenics, close order drilling, daily hikes of 5 to 10 miles, bayonet and hand-to-hand drills. We were issued our new M-1 rifles and spent about 10 days practicing on the rifle range, I was lucky and came up with an “expert” rating. Our drill Sergeant was very tough, but as he said, “Your ability to follow orders and work as a team could save your life in battle.”

The day boot camp was over, I was sent to Camp Elliott. I was informed that that evening, I was to go aboard a ship to go to the island of Bougainville to join the Third Marine Division as a replacement. I reminded the C.O. that when I enlisted, I was promised a 10-day leave before going overseas. They gave me a 10-day pass to go home. The trip took 3 ½ days each way by train, so I got to spend 3 days at home.

On my arrival back in California, I was sent to the new Marine Corps camp at Oceanside called Camp Joseph H Pendleton. Our group was the beginning of the Fourth Marine Division. Shortly after a shipload of Marines from Parris Island arrived to form the 23rd Regiment. I was assigned to A Company, 1st Battalion 24th Regiment, Fourth Marine Division.

Outfit: A/1/24th Marines
Rank: Private First Class
MOS: 746 (BARman)

Campaign Narrative

About 1430, we got the order to land on Green Beach 2 – we were to fill in between the 2nd and 3rd Battalions on Namur. Just as our landing craft hit the beach, a large enemy blockhouse used as a storage place for aerial bombs and torpedo warheads exploded without warning. An immense tower of smoke and rubble including many torpedo warheads shot into the sky, concussion felled men in every direction. An ink-black darkness spread over a large part of Namur. Our landing craft had just hit the beach when the explosion occurred and I believe that we survived because the ramp had not been lowered and we were somewhat protected from the concussion.

As soon as the air cleared we went ashore and were directed to the area between the 2nd and 3rd battalions. Two of my friends within a short time had earned Navy Crosses for courageous actions, Corporal Howard Smith and Sergeant Frank Tucker. Corp. Smith is still living and Frank Tucker was killed in action on Saipan.


Near the morning of the second day, a friend was hit and our Captain asked if I would help take him to the hospital ship. Four of us carried him to the beach by the time we got him there we were informed he had died. They then sent a cable to Washington; it was then that I learned that Steven Hopkins was the son of Harry Hopkins – special assistant to President Roosevelt.


Outfit: A/1/24th Marines
Rank: Private First Class
MOS: 746 (BARman)

Campaign Narrative

Our battalion was being held in reserve when we got the call to land at Charan-Kanoa. It was about 1600 hours. When we landed there was very little arms fire. We were directed to move through the other units while they moved to the right and left. We were about 400 yards from the beach. The mortar and artillery fire was extremely heavy and we were instructed to dig out foxholes for the night. The Japanese artillery became very heavy, as we were digging. Our Sergeant [Mike Frihauf] made the comment, “Don’t worry about the artillery, you hear as they have already passed. The shells to be concerned about are the ones you don’t hear.”

The second night, we dug in at the edge of a sugar cane field. Our company dug in two rows, about 10 yards apart. The second row was about 15 yards behind us and offset in checkerboard style. About 0100, I heard a commotion behind me. My good friend, “Staten Island” Iverson was in that position. I called out to him “Okay, Ivy?” He answered “Okay, Bob.” The same thing happened about an hour later. I asked “Okay, Ivy?” He answered, “Okay, Bob.” The next morning, there were two dead Japanese next to Ivy’s foxhole.

We climbed a cliff, about 200 feet. Our Commanding Officer told us to dig in at once and not fire at any single or small group of Japanese. We were some distance ahead of our other units and in a very precarious situation, with the cliff behind us. We were also down about 200 Marines, out of the original 252. About 0100, a Japanese appeared to my left. As I was on the left flank of our unit, the Japanese could not see us, but he was silhouetted against the sky. I watched him as he took a grenade and pushed the plunger against his helmet and threw it in our direction, hoping to get a response. I heard the grenade explode. Then he left. A short while later, I heard the call for a Corpman. It was not until daylight that I learned that the grenade had landed in the foxhole of a very close friend of mine and blew his left off. His name was Bob Vail. Despite the effort of the Navy Corpman, he died during the night. The said thing was that I had the Japanese in my said and could have easily killed him, but could not do so, because of the earlier orders.

As we moved up the eastern side of the island, we lost men daily; many to snipers, some to small battles, while taking a gun position. The Japanese were extremely fanatical. They had had the idea that it was an honor to idea for the Emperor instilled in them. There were a number of instances where ten to twenty men were firing from a trench. We would call up a flame-throwing tank and before we used it, we would hear numerous explosions and shots. The Japanese would commit suicide. Most wore shoes with the big toe of the shoe split like a glove. They would put the toe on the rifle trigger and shoot themselves in the head. They were short of bullets for their 31 caliber rifles. A few Marines were shot with wooden bullets.

As we moved up, I became quite sick. The Navy Corpsman said he thought I had dengue fever and gave me some medication. I became very weak and was having difficulty keeping up. At this point, there were only 25 of us left in our original company of 252 men. My friend from Biramwood [Herbert Mauritz] had been slightly wounded and was back from the field hospital. He said, “Give me your gear.” So he carried my equipment, in addition to his own. That evening, I received more medication and by the next morning, I felt better.

We were able to capture a prisoner who spoke English. The prisoner informed us that the balance of the Japanese garrison was planning a banzai attack on the morning of July 6. The Navy put up thousands of flares, but we did not see or hear anything. I was on the right flank, on guard, while my foxhole partner, Bob Wynne was sleeping. It was about 0530 hours. The sun was just coming up, everything was quiet and there was a slight fog. All at once, I heard a sugarcane stalk break. As quiet as it was, I altered the line. Then, only a minute later, the Japanese were charging our position. A hand grenade landed in our foxhole. We jumped out and only received a couple of pieces of shrapnel in our legs. Our whole line opened up, and our bazooka man put a couple of shells in the small building. Close to 100 Japanese were killed in there. The rest were charging our line, but with our firepower, they did not stand a chance. In a period of 15-20 minutes we killed 319 Japanese. The only casualties on our side were Bob Wynne and me, with a few small pieces of shrapnel in our legs. The Corpsman put a couple of small bandages on and we stayed with the company.

On the morning of July 8th, we started working our way down the ridge from east to west and by 1630 hours we were at the water’s edge, near Marpi Point. It was then that our Navajo radio operator received the message from headquarters that the island had been officially declared secured. A few minutes later, I was hit by a sniper. We had just received orders to move to the end of Marpi Point to try and save the hundreds of natives, who had taken refuge in many of the caves in the area.

 

I was evacuated to the hospital ship USS Samaritan. Two nurses asked if it would be ok to take my picture. When we landed, we shaved all the hair off our heads. After 26 days, my black hair grew back, but I had a red beard. I was still wearing the same dungarees I landed in and they were filthy and tattered. I must have been a sight. My left arm was taped to a board. During my 25 days on the island, I lost over 30 pounds. There were about 1200 wounded Marines on board the ship. The next morning I heard the bugler playing taps. A nurse informed me that 10 Marines had died overnight, and the ceremony on deck was for burials at sea.

After about 10 days, we arrived in the port of Noumea, New Caledonia. Bob Hope and his group came to put on a USO show. It was the same day that the paperwork came through for my Purple Heart medal. The doctor in charge let Bob Hope pin the medal on my pajamas. For some reason, I was the only one to have a camera, and Bob Hope always traveled with Hollywood actresses. This time Carole Landis was with him, so I shot a whole roll of film of her and various friends.


In mid-September, they sent a former passenger ship to return us to the US. It was a 14-day trip unescorted by any Navy ships, so we took a very southern route to be out of range of Japanese submarines. We arrived in San Francisco and were taken to the Oakland Naval Hospital. Four days later, a special train took us to the Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego. I had a couple of surgeries, one was a bone graft from my leg to replace the 3 ½” of bone shot out of my arm on Saipan. I did not do very well after the surgery, and the Red Cross advised my parents to come to San Diego. 
Dad’s car was a 1940 Hudson with 165,000 miles on it. Gas was rationed, so a group of farmers from the Birnamwood, Wisconsin area got together and supplied him with enough gas ration tickets to get to California and back. Dad loved to travel and had many stories of his trip on Route 66 to San Diego.

Many new casualties were being sent to San Diego from the Pacific, and I figured my best chance to get more rapid treatment and to get closer to home was to ask for a transfer to Great Lakes Naval Hospital. I was transferred in January of 1945. My bone graft that was done in San Diego did not take and they determined I had Osteomyelitis bone infection. Penicillin was quite new, and I was given large amounts to counter the infection and then had another bone graft. Each time I had these bone grafts, I had a full body cast from my waist over my shoulders, and my arm was supported at about a 90-degree angle. I had to wear these casts for about six months. At Great Lakes, I was put on limited duty for four hours a day as a gate guard or the flag detail.


I was getting quite angry as the war had been over nearly a year, so I put in for a transfer to the St. Albans Naval Hospital at Long Island, New York, in late July. From August 1946 to January 1947, I had 10 major operations, most performed by doctors from the Columbia University Medical Hospital. In the meantime, the Osteomyelitis infection destroyed the second bone graft. They made me a leather and metal brace to replace the bone in my arm. The Navy doctors asked if I would take my discharge from the Marine Corps and check into the Milwaukee VA Hospital. I agreed, but when I got home and checked with the VA they informed me it would be 5 or 6 months before they had an opening for me.


The local VA office in Wausau was a great deal of help. They put me in contact with a Dr. Merritt Jones who had his nurse change the bandages on my arm 3 or 4 times a week for the 6 months I had to wait to get into the VA hospital. He did this at no charge to me or the VA.

He asked how much disability compensation I received and I told him it was $82.00 a month. His comment was, “you can’t live on that.” Re then called his friend Mr. D. C. Everest, the owner of Marathon Paper Corp. I went to his office in Rothschild. He told me of his plans to build a new plant on Bridge Street in Wausau and said the plant engineer would need extra help for a few months, so he called his plant manager and I went to work for $175.00 a month.

In September of 1947, I went to the Wood VA Hospital in Milwaukee. Between September 1947 and July 1950, I went to the VA Hospital twice. My third bone graft did not take, so I went back and they put in metal plates. In September 1949, I enrolled in a tech school in Green Bay for 2 semesters and was hired by the CEO of Steffke Freight Company in Wausau. So, as of August 1950, I was back in the mainstream – 7 years and 5 months since enlisting.