BATTLE NARRATIVE
Breakdown. Iwo Jima: 8 March 1945
Machine gunner John C. Pope woke up rested but resentful after spending the night at First Battalion’s 81mm mortar position.
While he appreciated the opportunity to catch up on some sleep in relative safety several hundred yards behind the front lines, the previous night’s argument with PFC James T. Rainey bothered him. Just before dark, Rainey kicked up such a fuss that Pope was ordered to leave his team and stay with the mortarmen. He refused to say why, but Pope suspected that his friend’s self-declared ability to see the future was to blame. Pope felt guilty at leaving his gun crew, worried for the young mortarman who’d taken his place, and angry with Rainey’s attitude. The two Georgians were best friends, but in their pique refused to speak to each other overnight. Daylight did nothing to ameliorate the animosity. Rainey stomped over to Pope, snarled “You can go back now,” and turned on his heel. Pope rolled his eyes at the mortar section sergeant, gathered his gear, and made his way back to the front lines.
He found a mess when he arrived. The heavy machine gun he’d carefully tended to and emplaced the night before was a wreck of twisted metal. Bloodstains darkened the ground around the position. Corpsmen were ministering to wounded men, and two bodies lay under ponchos. The mortarman who’d volunteered to take Pope’s place was dead. He’d never fired a shot – the gunners were victims of chance, “one of those random shells we called harassing fire.” Pope felt sick and gut-churningly guilty. “My volunteer relief gunner would not get the chance to brag about being a machine gunner after all.” [1] In the back of his mind, he wondered if Rainey had seen the “strange light” and pitched a fit to save his life.[2]
A few foxholes away in the Baker Company sector, PFC Stanley E. Cupps was waiting for his regular morning visitor. PFC Thomas J. Buckley checked in every day, sometimes running seventy-five yards to look in on “Chick.” Buckley, a twenty-nine-year-old father of three, appointed himself guardian to the teenaged Cupps during training at Camp Maui. “Buck” encouraged Chick not to drink, swear, or chase women; he declared that Cupps would not only survive but return home “a gentleman.” [3] The two friends shared a moment of quiet on D-plus-17, with Buck clucking over Chick’s recent wound like a mother hen. As demolitions men, they knew a full day lay ahead.
Sergeant Attilio Centofanti was toying with the watch he got in the mail while sailing to Iwo Jima. It was his prized possession because it had a stopwatch feature. He would time anything – how quickly a buddy could climb a ladder aboard ship, how long they’d been in a chow line – and on the boat going to the beach, he planned to start the timer when the ramp dropped and stop it when he killed his first enemy soldier. Only “Shenny” knew how many times he’d clicked that timer since coming ashore.[4]
Hospital Apprentice Billie Lee Leavell checked and re-checked his harness. The webbing straps supported two bags that bulged with as many bandages, dressings, and syrettes of morphine as he could carry. Leavell was twenty-one, from Junction City, Kansas, and loved his work. He’d earned high marks in hospital corps training, served in and survived three significant battles, and earned his own Purple Heart on Saipan. At home, he worked for the family-owned restaurant and grocery; at Camp Maui, he studied books on business management and mathematics. However, his heart was now set on a higher calling. If he made it through the war, he told Lt. (j.g.) Richards Lyon, he wanted to go to medical school.
Second Lieutenants David H. Griffith and Jack W. Fansler held conferences with what remained of their respective headquarters groups. They had landed on Iwo Jima as two of the greenest officers in their battalion; now, they were the only survivors of the original Charlie Company contingent.
“Dee” Griffith was twenty-four and famous as a footballer in his native Pennsylvania. Teenaged teams in Delaware County feared to face off against the “triple-threat back” from Park High School, who later brought his gridiron talents and academic honors to Moravian College. “A crack quarterback who could kick and pass a football with the best of the small college gridders,” Griffith was regarded as the best player Moravian could field, and Muhlenberg coach Al Julian noted his performance. Dee wanted to enter the service: V-12 was an attractive option, and while Moravian could not support such a program, Muhlenberg welcomed him with open arms. He became “one of the outstanding stars of Coach Julian’s 1943 Muhlenberg football machine” for throwing a thirty-yard forward pass in a game against Yale. A subsequent on-field injury left him benched and frustrated for the rest of the 1943 season.[5]
Griffith left Muhlenberg for Quantico during his junior year, completed his OCS training, earned his commission in May of 1944, and married Sara Jean Kirkpatrick that summer. Even before his assignment to the 24th Marines, Lieutenant Griffith followed the exploits of the 4th Marine Division with particular interest: his younger brother, Donald Griffith, was serving with E/2/23rd Marines. The Griffith boys even managed a quick reunion on Iwo Jima.
Jack Fansler hailed from Galva, Illinois. A 1941 graduate of Altona High School, Fansler attended Western Illinois State Teacher’s College, planning to become an educator. He joined the Marine Corps Reserve in 1942 and was called to active duty the following year. Instead of Quantico, Fansler attended Special Officer Candidate School (SOCS) at Camp Lejeune, a program designed to give potential officers brief but thorough training before a combat posting. Many who received their bars were not totally equipped for the strain of command, especially when assigned to a unit comprised heavily of combat veterans. Fansler, however, was up to the challenge. “I was immediately impressed by his good-naturedness, his ability to do a good job, and the fact that the men and officers liked him at once,” commented Major Horace C. Parks. “Soon afterward, he was stamped as one of the best lieutenants in the organization, not only because his work was outstanding but because his men respected him so much.”[6]
“Bus” Parks was a tough man to impress: he was the original skipper of Charlie Company and held officers to a high standard. Like Dee Griffith, Jack Fansler also had a brother in the service – but there would be no reunion on Iwo or anywhere else. Corporal Walter Fansler was dead, killed in France the previous August.
These Marines and dozens of their comrades – not companies, not hundreds, but dozens – were tasked with breaking through the same defensive line that defied their efforts for the past several days. It was an exercise in the arithmetic of attrition, and equation that would balance when one side ran out of ammunition or the other out of bodies.
Up The Ridge
Captain William A. Eddy, Jr. brought Baker Company up to the lines to relieve Easy Company, 2/24, at about 0430. (“We went at night, five paces apart, so they could only kill one of us at a time,” noted Private James A. Moore.) Lt. Col. Rothwell’s Second Battalion headed for what they hoped would be a well-earned spell in the rear; they optimistically reported on reduced resistance to their front, and “activity during the night negligible.” When they came off the lines, though, their companies were barely larger than platoons. In fact, Easy Company’s relief by Baker was the last action it would take in the battle. That morning, Easy was disbanded and the survivors assigned to other units in the battalion – an extreme measure that spoke to the tremendous casualties suffered in the past week.
Major Paul Treitel now had Baker and Charlie Companies on the line and under his control. Able Company still faced the Japanese salient created on the previous day; throughout the morning, they would operate with 3/24 to eliminate the strongpoint. This left Captain Eddy and 1Lt. Marshall Salvaggio responsible for continuing the advance.[7] The methodical veteran Eddy was unable to recon his front line: Easy Company passed on what information they could, but it was no substitute for personal observation. For his part, Lt. Salvaggio only knew that hell awaited on the high ground. On the previous day, his adopted company fought for hours to make headway only to head back to their starting positions at nightfall. Baker and Charlie were about fifty yards short of a ridgeline studded with bunkers and pillboxes. The men hoped (but did not necessarily expect) to be atop the ridge by nightfall
Private Robert L. Owensby was nursing the previous day’s shrapnel wounds and listening in on a debate between some of his buddies who heard rumors that they were headed back to reserve positions. A massive Marine artillery barrage squashed the rumors and settled the issue. “They just plastered the ground in front of us,” he said. “We all agreed that we’re not going into reserve after the Marines spent all that artillery on that ground in front of us. We’re going to be pushing up there.” As soon as the barrage lifted, Owensby’s platoon got up and started forward.[7.5]
Demolition work defined the morning’s advance. “Numerous pillboxes and caves were gradually being overrun,” notes the battalion After Action Report. Baker and Charlie Companies expended countless rounds of small-arms ammunition, gallons of flamethrower fuel, and pounds of TNT every couple of yard, eliminating one fortification after another. This process slowed the attack, but at least the attack was progressing at all. It took nearly six hours to traverse those fifty yards, but at last portions of Baker and Charlie gained the top of the ridge. As they explored the caves, they found observation posts equipped with telephone wires – the nests where Japanese observers crouched for days on end, calling in salvo after salvo of devastating mortar fire. While “some of the caves were still occupied by the enemy,” the report made no mention of taking any prisoners.[8]
For his part, Owensby thought the first phase of the attack was “relatively easy, compared to our previous operations.” He also got into his first proper shootout with Japanese soldiers after a week on Iwo Jima.
We moved on up through a little ravine into high ground –five or six of us. There was a natural depression and a big shell crater and we were told to hold up. We did see some Japanese in front of us and I fired off some rounds there. But I never got up far enough to see if I hit those guys.
Fighting snipers in northern Iwo Jima. USMC photo by Dreyfuss.
Owensby heard the clink of metal on rock. A Japanese soldier on the lip of the ravine let the Marines go past, then rolled a hand grenade down the slope. The missile bounced off the rocks, smacked into Owensby’s pack, and exploded. “I was lucky I was a chow hound,” he said “Cans of rations and a package of letters from my girlfriend absorbed most of the impact, but I took fragments in my neck, back, and extremities.” He inspected the damage as Private Donald Putnam called for a corpsman. The sailor cut Owensby’s jacket off, treated as many of the tiny cuts as he could, and guided him back down the ravine to the aid station. Within a few hours, he was safely aboard the USS Samaritan. Japanese grenades tended to shatter into tiny pieces; surgeons told Owensby he had more than one hundred bits of metal embedded in his body. He was classed as an ambulatory patient and went on to serve with a garrison unit on Saipan.[9]
Corporal Jesse T. Betts, a replacement NCO in Baker Company, was leading a rifle squad up the hill when Japanese snipers opened fire. Several of his Marines went down wounded, and the platoon’s advance abruptly stopped as scouts searched for the source of the fire. Betts deliberately stood up in the open, spotted the snipers as they fired at him, and went after the nest. When the violence ended, three Japanese were dead, and Betts was bleeding from fresh wounds. He was evacuated, and his platoon leader made a note to recommend Betts for a decoration.[10]
At noon, Able Company was released from their duties at the salient and moved back into regimental reserve. Charlie Company occupied the high ground except for the right flank, where an unusually stubborn Japanese blockhouse still resisted capture. Baker Company had one platoon on the ridge with another gradually working its way forward. An advance of fifty yards may sound modest to the reader, but considering the number of casualties sustained in trying to cross this same ground over several days, scaling the ridge was a significant achievement. The terrain beyond was another endless sprawl of boulders, crags, and gullies, but for a brief moment, it seemed that First Battalion had finally achieved a breakthrough.
On The Crest
Of course, and inevitably, the Japanese were waiting. The spotters who withdrew from the ridge had new positions, and they knew the exact coordinates of the ridge. Every time a Marine showed his head, he drew fire – not just rifles and machine guns, but entire batteries of Japanese mortars.
John Pope and his buddies were lunching on some cold rations with one of the battalion corpsmen arrived. The sailor rummaged in his pack and, grinning, produced a tin of Spam saved from his last trip to Pearl Harbor. He sliced the meat and doled out slivers, waving away clusters of flies, saving the final chunk for himself. Then somebody outside the hole yelled for medical help. The corpsman gathered his belongings and tossed his share of the tinned Spam to Pope. “Keep the flies off this until I get back,” he called.
Doctors Lyon and Richard C. Porter had a hard-and-fast rule for their corpsmen: never go anywhere without covering fire. Adherence to this rule – and a healthy dose of good luck – kept the medical section’s casualty rate relatively low. There were times when the urge to help was just too strong, and this was how Billie Lee Leavell lost his life. Summoned by a cry for help, he went out into a mortar barrage on the eighth of March. “Billie was treating a wounded Marine, a large mortar shell exploded near him, killing him instantly,” wrote Doc Porter. “There were no marks on his body, which indicated that his death was a result of the concussion of the explosion…. I can find no words to express my true feelings when I see such courageous young men give their lives in such a violent battle.” [11] Three other corpsmen were wounded; PhM2c Ellsworth Blanchard stayed on duty, but PhM2c Harold K. Brasell and PhM3c Ronald E. Millhiser were seriously hurt and evacuated from the battlefield.
These losses created a conundrum for Doc Lyon, who had to choose a man from his aid station to replace Leavell. Two corpsmen were available. On the one hand was PhM3c Daniel J. Danhauer, a young and gung-ho Chicagoan; on the other was PhM2c Ben R. Flores, a combat veteran from Gonzales, Texas. Technically, “Danny” was next in line, but Lyon had reservations. Danny was talented (like Leavell, he was thinking about medical school) and brave (he had already been wounded once), but all of his combat experience centered around the relatively secure aid station. He had never served with a front-line platoon. Flores was “battle-wise after three invasions and known to all the platoons,” but Lyon worried about the fairness of asking Flores to risk his life again. “His job was done. His war tour would be over, and he was scheduled to be on his way back to the mainland after we left the island.” Finally, Doc Lyon “took the bull by the horns” and asked Flores to go up to the front. Flores simply said, “I’ll go,” gathered his carbine, “and disappeared over the brim of the hill into the valley of possible death. This was, to me, the ultimate bravery,” said Lyon, “based on the love that permeated our team of Navy Marines.” Lyon recommended Ben Flores, as well as Billie Leavell, for the Bronze Star.[12]
Flores and Danhauer, before and after Iwo Jima.
When Pope realized his corpsman friend wasn’t coming back, he took the can of Spam and buried the uneaten portion in the sand. “That Spam belonged to him, and I had made a promise,” he said. “Whenever I see a can of Spam, I think of Doc.” [13]
These occasional heavy barrages continued at the slightest provocation for the next several hours. Then, at 1515, the Japanese unleashed everything they had.
Marines fall back from a ridgeline that has come under heavy fire. Scene from “To The Shores of Iwo Jima."
“The Climax"
The battalion After Action Report on Iwo Jima spare with language and superlatives, uses the word “extremely” only three times in all of its fifty-two pages. Two of those instances describe the afternoon of 8 March 1945. It was the point that all but ended the First Battalion’s effectiveness as a combat unit and came closest to breaking their collective spirit.
It will never be known how long this shelling lasted. The crest of the ridge exploded in a series of blasts that shook the earth and filled the air with flying pieces of metal. Countless 81mm and 90mm bombs ripped the ground, and there may have been some of the man-sized 320mm shells. The shrieks of the missiles mingled with the screams of the men who fell riddled with shrapnel.
John Pope was running in the open when a shell landed nearby. “The shrapnel missed me, but I went tumbling again,” he said. “When body parts started to rain down, an arm landed near where I was lying.” The concussion knocked Pope for a loop; his eyes swam and finally focused on a moving object just in front of his face. “It was the sweep hand of Shenny’s watch. His arm had been blown off, but the watch was still running.”[15]
PFC Marvin Opatz was trying to help a wounded buddy when his mortar position was hit. As the men around him scattered, Opatz flung his body across the stretcher, acting as a human shield. Shrapnel tore his back and legs, severing his Achilles tendon. Both men were eventually rescued; Opatz would receive the Silver Star for saving his buddy’s life. Unfortunately, not every wounded man had a buddy like Optaz. All told, Baker Company would lose 42 Marines on 8 March – a full-strength platoon – most of them to the effects of the “extremely heavy barrage.”
The outcome was even worse for Charlie Company. They suffered 34 casualties – again, mostly as a result of the bombardment – and a count of the lines showed only 40 men able to carry on the fight. Among the dead were Lieutenants Fansler and Griffith, the last of the company’s original officer cadre. The men were in a state of physical and emotional collapse.
Second Lieutenant Jim Craig, a platoon leader serving with L/3/24th Marines, witnessed the barrage from his position on Charlie Company’s flank. He hurried over to check on the damage and found what remained of a platoon huddled behind a rock. Craig attended SOCS with Jack Fansler and recognized some of the men. “Where’s Lieutenant Fansler?” he asked.
“He got shot, sir,” replied one of the men. “He’s dead and has already been moved back to the beach.”
Craig absorbed the news as he looked over the Charlie Company men. “They looked cowed and hesitant,” he related to a biographer. “They were leaderless and scared. They had also lost their sergeants; they were just a bunch of privates and corporals. Usually, in this kind of situation, somebody naturally steps up and assumes a leadership role.” Nobody was moving, so Craig picked out a nineteen-year-old corporal for a pep talk. “I knew Lieutenant Fansler,” he said. “He was a good man and a hell of a Marine. But he’s gone, and those guys need somebody to take command and lead them through this. When we get back, I’m going to tell them that you’re in charge and that they’re to follow your orders. They’re just looking for somebody to lead them, that’s all, and I think you’re that man. They’ll follow if you lead. You’re a Marine. You can do it.” With Craig’s backing, the corporal took command of the platoon.[16]
In the aftermath of the shelling came the sickening realization that they could not stay where they were. The hour was growing late for air support, and they did not know where to send it; the Japanese batteries were too well hidden. And, looking up and down the line, it was clear that not enough Marines remained to mount an effective nighttime defense. Down the slope they went, bearing the wounded and the dead, searching for a point to consolidate and dig in for the night. As if to put an exclamation point on the scenario, the Japanese dropped a second “extremely heavy” barrage on the top of the ridge. The message was clear: if we can’t have it, you can’t either.
Able Company provided reinforcements. One platoon went into line with Baker Company; another reported to Lt. Salvaggio and the remnants of Charlie Company. 1Lt. Arthur L. McGilvray, Jr. gathered his assault platoon and also joined Charlie Company for the night. A single Able Company platoon stayed in reserve for the entire battalion.
This emergency move proved to be a good idea. Japanese fire usually tapered off at nightfall, but tonight the mortarmen had their blood up. They fired as though they had all the ammunition in the world, hitting the top of the ridge and dropping shells blindly all along the line of the 24th Marines. Nighttime attacks by infantry were less common in the First Battalion sector, but the increased artillery fire suggested that something was afoot. It was the kind of night when men wanted to be close to a war dog.
War dogs were specially trained in many combat roles but were most commonly used to deliver messages, accompany patrols, or for night security. Each animal had a handler, and the two were inseparable. Corporal Robert D. Price recalled the rules for interacting with war dogs: “You never stood closer than ten feet to the dog handler. You never pointed your finger. And you never raised your voice. You’d say [with exaggerated calm] ‘John, sure glad to see you. We’re gonna assign you to Third Platoon, c’mon I’ll take ya over.’” Despite the needed precautions, Price loved the “gorgeous” dogs – mostly Dobermans and German Shepherds – and he was not the only one. “I’d get a call from battalion HQ saying, ‘Able Company, you’re gonna get two war dogs tonight.’ I’d pass the word down to the platoon leaders, and you could hear guys cheering, ‘Yay, we’re gettin’ the war dog! We want him right here!’” [17]
The effectiveness of the war dogs was occasionally called into question. Platoon Sergeant Mike D. Mervosh encountered one canine who took over his shell hole during a bombardment. “A heavy mortar attack was coming in, and the dog was scared to death,” he said. “The dog kept nudging my position. I was trying to push the dog away, but the dog just looked at me and snarled and growled.” Mervosh gave in, and the dog burrowed into the dirt.[18] The battalion report opined that “the dogs themselves did not prove to be too successful” and that they tended to fall asleep during the long overnight watches.[19] PFC Charles Kubicek, exhausted after 36 hours with no sleep, observed a handler posting a dog on guard. “He would say ‘watch,’ and then he would curl up and try to get some sleep. The minute the guy curled up, the dog would curl up, and this went on – finally, I fell asleep. I was dog tired.” The dog, however, did its job overnight. “I woke up and out in front of us were a couple of dead Japanese, and I swore they weren’t there the night before. I never heard any shooting. I didn’t hear anything. They could have come in and carried me off if they wanted.”[20]
Often, the main service the dogs provided was a sense of comfort. “They did help as a morale factor, as the men felt they had a little added security, and there were times when the companies were so small that the appearance of a war dog and its handlers seemed like heavy reinforcements,” said the battalion report.[21] Corporal Price concurred. “The big thing they brought was the morale factor. When the guys knew we had a war dog on our front, they would clamor ‘bring him here; I want him here!’ Oh, it was a fun deal.”[22]
Dogs, handlers, and Marines would be busy that night. The Japanese were out in force, striking up and down the Marine line. It was not an all-out banzai, but the heaviest infiltration attempts that First Battalion experienced during the campaign. American mortars got a chance to exact some retribution on the Japanese; more than sixty bodies were counted in the battalion’s area sector.
James Moore found himself in a foxhole far out in front of the main line with two men he didn’t recognize – he thought they might be with the 3rd Marine Division. “The sergeant told me to dig in,” he said. “I told him that we were too exposed, and he said, ‘forget it. Stay covered.'” Moore and his newfound buddies had trouble digging down in the rough ground, so built a little parapet of stones around their fighting position. That night, they heard the soft clinking of equipment, and muted Japanese voices in the darkness. Moore was enough of a veteran to know that firing a rifle at night was the last resort – the muzzle flash would give his position away – and let fly with a grenade. The blast killed one Japanese soldier, but two others quickly hid behind some rocks. As star shells lit the night sky, Moore saw a grenade sail through the air and land in their hole. Reflexively, he curled into a fetal position.
“Get Captain Eddy,” Moore mumbled. A few days earlier, the Baker Company skipper had promised to help Moore out of any desperate situation; now Moore was calling to collect. And Captain Eddy was as good as his word. He showed up, got Moore to a safe spot, and demanded a field phone. “He ordered a Jeep to come up… [and] was told they weren’t sending any Jeeps to the front because it was too dangerous,” said Moore. “Captain Eddy yelled back that if they didn’t send a Jeep, he was going to call his men off the line. He said he had had 212 men in his company and was now down to 17 effectives left. So, they sent a Jeep up, and I was taken to an aid station…. You could say I traded my life against the medal he wanted to give me, and I’ve never been sorry for it.” [23]
First Battalion’s combat death toll for 8 March 1945 was sixteen men – thirteen killed on the spot, plus three who would later die of wounds. One more life might be added to that grim number. Private Leonard G. Van Dusen, a replacement serving with Baker Company, suffered a near-fatal bullet wound to the abdomen during the day’s attack. He was rushed from front line to aid station to hospital ship as a series of medical specialists worked frantically to keep him alive. They succeeded, but Leonard was never the same. He was eighty percent disabled, suffered bouts of ill health, and struggled to adapt to civilian life. Iwo Jima had broken him.
In November of 1949, Leonard hanged himself in the room above his garage in Castro Valley, California. He left a wife, two small children, and a pair of suicide notes. One read, “It may look weak, but I had to try twice as much as any normal man."[24]
[1] John C. Pope, Angel On My Shoulder, Kindle edition. Pope stated that his substitute gunner and a rifleman were killed by the shelling. He did not give a name for the gunner, but based on casualty reports, it was likely nineteen-year-old Private Robert E. Simpson of Morganton, North Carolina. A former high school football star, Bobby Simpson was a new replacement with HQ Company and had never been on the front lines.
[2] Pope and Rainey never discussed this incident during the war. Both survived, and in peacetime they went their separate ways. Many years later, Pope paid his first visit to his old friend in Newnan, Georgia. “When I drove up to the house, he was sitting on his front porch. He watched me walk up to the porch and before he made a move from his chair or offered a word of greeting, he looked straight at me and said, ‘I saved your ass that night.’”
[3] David Harper, “Month in Hell Lingers in Memory,” Tulsa World, 19 February 1995. Accessed 2 March 2020.
[4] Pope, Angel On My Shoulder.
[5] “Lieut. Dave Griffiths, Former ‘Mule’ Star, Killed on Iwo Jima,” The Morning Call (Allentown, PA) 5 April 1945.
[6] “Receive More Details Death Lt. J. Fansler,” The Galva News (Galva, IL) 7 June 1945.
[7] As discussed previously, the question of who was running Charlie Company is the matter of some debate. The battalion After Action Report repeatedly names Lt. Salvaggio as the acting company commander, and this narrative follows that precedent.
[7.5] Robert Owensby oral history interview; self-conducted, date unknown. Collection of the National Museum of the Pacific War.
[8] LtCol. Charles L. Banks, “Final Report on IWO JIMA Operation, Battalion Landing Team 1/24,” in Annex George to Fourth Marine Division Report on Iwo Jima: RCT 24 Report (20 April 1945), 131-132.
[9] “Robert Owensby” in Bruce M. Petty, Saipan: Oral Histories of the Pacific War (McFarland & Company: Jefferson, NC, 2002), 114-115. “Most of [those fragments] are still there,” he added.
[10] Corporal Betts received the Silver Star for 8 March.
[11] Richard C. Porter, letter to Omer Leavell, 21 March 1945.
[12] Richards P. Lyon. Personal correspondence with the author. Compiled online. Billie Leavell was recommended for the Silver Star but received the Bronze Star instead; Danny Danhauer was recommended for the Bronze Star, but it is unclear whether he received the decoration.
[13] Pope, Angel On My Shoulder. In his memoir, Pope recalls that this event involved “Doc Munsky” and that the corpsman was killed just after leaving the shell hole. In fact, Pharmacist’s Mate Francis Munski was with the rear echelon at Camp Maui and ultimately survived the war. It is probable, though not certain, that his story involved Billie Leavell.
[14] “Final Report,” 132.
[15] Pope, Angel On My Shoulder. Pope was clear about Centofanti owning the watch (he spelled and pronounced the name “Chennefonnie.”) However, he recalled the event mentioned above as occurring on D-Day.
[16] John C. Shivley, The Last Lieutenant: A Foxhole View of the Battle for Iwo Jima, (New York: NAL Caliber, 2006) 107-109. The real name of this corporal is not known; there was no “Corporal McKinney” (or any similar name) in Charlie Company at this time.
[17] Robert D. Price, oral history interview conducted by Thomas Swope, Robert D. Price Collection(AFC/2001/001/49660), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[18] Gregg Stoner, Hardcore Iron Mike, Conqueror of Iwo Jima (Bloomington, iUniverse, 2015), 55.
[19] “Final Report,” 148-149.
[20] Bill Crozier and Steve Schild, “Uncommon Valor: Three Winona Marines at Iwo Jima,” Winona Post, 25 October 2006. Online edition
[21] “Final Report,” 148-149.
[22] Price, oral history interview.
[23] “James Moore” in Bruce M. Petty, Saipan: Oral Histories of the Pacific War (McFarland & Company: Jefferson, NC, 2002), 110.
[24] “War-Disabled Marine Ends Life,” The Oakland Tribune 25 November 1949.
Battalion Daily Report
Casualties, Evacuations, Joinings & Transfers
KIA/DOW
WIA & EVAC*
SICK
JOINED
TRANSFERRED
STRENGTH
Out of 793 officers and men present for duty at beginning of month.
* Does not include minor wounds not requiring evacuation from the line.
| Name | Company | Rank | Role | Change | Cause | Disposition |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Alessandrini, Armand Gerard | Charlie | PFC | Messenger | Killed In Action | Unknown | Removed for burial |
| Anderson, Charles Renwick Jr. | Baker | Second Lieutenant | Platoon Leader | Died Of Wounds | Shrapnel, neck (6 March) | To Iwo Jima for burial |
| Ball, Sandy Bradford | Charlie | Corporal | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Banko, Charles | Baker | Private | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right hip & compound fracutre left tibia | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Barbarotto, Nicholas Joseph | Baker | Second Lieutenant | Platoon Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, both legs | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Betts, Jesse Thurmond | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Birdsall, Robert Greenfield | Baker | Sergent | MG Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Blanchard, Ellsworth Louis | Headquarters | PhM2c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Boisvert, George Edward Jr. | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Brasell, Harold Keary | Headquarters | PhM2c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Brown, Nathan Waldron | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action (Fatal) | Shrapnel, neck | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Buckley, Thomas James | Baker | PFC | Demolitiosn | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial |
| Burke, Nelson Wallace | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Burke, Robert Anythony | Baker | Private | Basic | Killed In Action | Multiple wounds | Removed for burial |
| Callahan, Aloysius Callahan | Able | Private | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Campbell, John Henry | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated to USS Lander |
| Carmichael, Robert Edwin | Baker | Private | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Centofanti, Attilio | Baker | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| Chamberlain, Claude Lee | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoudler | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Chorzempa, Andrew Joseph | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Contusion, left scapula | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Colbert, David Vaughn II | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Intracranial injury | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Demchik, Stephen | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Donaldson, Andrew Thomas | Baker | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left knee & hands | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Fansler, Jack Willard | Charlie | Second Lieutenant | Platoon Leader | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, multiple | Removed for burial |
| Findlay, Eugene Benton | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Fischer, Richard Francis | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left leg | Evacuated to airport |
| Gillette, Joseph Thomas | Able | Private | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left side & paralysis | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gilliam, Benny Jesse | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Multiple wounds | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Griffith, David Hacking | Charlie | Second Lieutenant | Platoon Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial |
| Gunther, Harry Richard | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left leg & foot | Evacuated to airport |
| Harris, Thomas Melvin | Charlie | Corporal | Ammo NCO | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, neck | Removed for burial |
| Howe, Byron Linwood Jr. | Headquarters | Private | Assault & Demolitions | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Jarvis, James Leonard | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, back & buttocks | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Jope, Robert Chester | Charlie | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Kapitan, Samuel | Charlie | Private | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| King, William Hugh | Baker | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Kwiatkowski, Stephen Eugene | Headquarters | Corporal | Radioman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, face & left leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Lamberson, Floyd William | Charlie | Corporal | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Lane, Lorrin Frederick | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action (Fatal) | Shrapnel, head | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Leavell, Billie Lee | Headquarters | HA1c | Corpsman | Killed In Action | Blast concussion | Removed for burial |
| Lee, Garvin Ernest | Baker | PFC | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, legs & back | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Leonoff, Alexander Victor | Charlie | PFC | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Lewis, Amos Franklin | Headquarters | PFC | Lineman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Lindstrom, George Wallace | Able | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right shoulder | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Maze, Eugene Verland | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| McCarthy, Thomas Edward | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right shoulder | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Miller, James Osborne | Charlie | Private | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds; amputation left leg | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Miller, Mills Wagner | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, head | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Millhiser, Ronald Earl | Headquarters | PhM3c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Moore, James Adolphus | Baker | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, back & buttocks | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Moynihan, John Joseph Jr. | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Mullis, Edwin Eugene | Headquarters | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, forearm | Evacuated to airport |
| Musser, Henry Shank | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, left shoulder | Removed for burial |
| Nurenberg, Lavern Clark | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, lips | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Opatz, Marvin Eugene | Baker | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Owens, Kenneth Eugene | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds in groin, right leg, feet | Evacuated to airport |
| Owensby, Robert Lee | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Perry, Lloyd Herbert | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Contusion, right hand | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Pierson, John Howard | Baker | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Pitz, Clarence Louis Sr. | Charlie | Private | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Popielarski, Adolph Marion | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right forearm | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Puliafico, Aniello Anthony | Baker | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Pye, Cecil Gilbert | Baker | Private | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel head, neck & chest | Evacuated to airport |
| Pyles, Kenneth Ray | Baker | Private | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoudler | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Ratley, Louis Eugene | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Rivenburgh, Thomas William | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Amputation, left leg | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Roche, Daniel Anthony | Headquarters | PFC | Lineman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right thigh | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Schlenker, Forest Charles | Headquarters | Sergeant | Mortar Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Schmidt, Robert Gerald | Baker | Private | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right ankle | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Shampine, Leon John | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Simpson, Robert Edward | Headquarters | Private | Basic | Killed In Action | Multiple wounds | Removed for burial |
| Skinner, William Edward | Baker | Private | Basic | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| Skoog, Clayton Sverre | Baker | Private | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, skull | Evacuated to USS Samaritan |
| Smith, Lawrence Virgil | Baker | Private | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Smith, William Thomas Jr. | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left buttocks | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sorcinelli, Aldo Louis | Baker | Private | BARman | Wounded In Action (Fatal) | Shrapnel, face & chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Stainforth, William Harold Jr. | Charlie | Private | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated to airport |
| Stankwytch, Joseph Knox | Baker | Private | Cook | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, right side | Removed for burial |
| Steffey, William Arthur | Charlie | Private | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left hip | Evacuated to airport |
| Stout, Carroll Eldridge | Headquarters | PFC | Stretcher Bearer | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, chest | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Suroweic, Joseph John Sr. | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Taylor, James Frederick | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, shoulder & face | Evacuated to airport |
| Terreau, Edward Marshall | Baker | Private | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial |
| Thomas, Fred Eugene | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Died Of Wounds | Unknown (7 March) | Removed for burial |
| Thompson, Charles Eugene | Baker | PFC | Mechanic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Tomasetti, Herman Philip | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds; gunshot, genitals | Evacuated to airport |
| Turner, Willie Hardie Jr. | Baker | Corporal | Mortar Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right thigh | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Umfress, Samuel Lamar | Baker | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Multiple wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Valadez, Joe | Charlie | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right upper arm | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Van Dusen, Leonard George | Baker | Private | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Warder, Hiram Ray | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Multiple wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Warren, Tom Joe | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, chest | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Zebley, Frank Free | Charlie | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, head | Evacuated to USS Solace |
