BATTLE NARRATIVE
Disbanded. Iwo Jima: 9 March 1945
There was an ominous rumbling sound in the darkness in front of Private Joyce M. Slaton‘s foxhole.
He was used to the usual nighttime sounds of Iwo Jima. A few random shots fired “just to keep us on edge,” or the muffled sounds of a Tokyo Rose broadcast wafting through the dark – Marine, don’t you wonder what your wife is doing tonight? There were occasional close calls, like the time two Japanese officers almost tripped over him in the dark and his carbine jammed up. Fortunately, Slaton kicked his foxhole buddy awake just in time; Private Levon Kinsey simply leaned on the trigger of his BAR and dispatched the threat. For the most part, however, “nothing much happened at night” – so the rumbling, murmuring sound indicated something different.
Slaton recalled the instructions of his company commander, Captain William A. Eddy, Jr. “If there’s a banzai, just swing back and hit ’em as they go by.” By and by, the Marines could hear individual Japanese voices raising in pitch and volume. Flares shot up from the battalion’s mortar position, followed by brighter illumination from the fleet. About three hundred yards away, Slaton saw a mass of Japanese soldiers advancing at a run, “a-shootin’ and a-screamin’.” The First Battalion let the charging men close to hand grenade range, then started pitching missiles with all their might – firing was forbidden, lest it give away their positions.[1]
A few of the Japanese managed to get through the first line of foxholes by shouting “Stretcher bearers coming!” and similar phrases in good English. “We let them come through thinking it was our corpsmen bringing back wounded,” said Corporal Henry A. Manzi of Charlie Company. “They opened up, but we were in our foxholes and they couldn’t get a bead on us. We began to whip those grenades.” PFC Richard Silvera concurred. “Another guy and I threw a whole box of hand grenades,” he reported. “We had them in a crossfire.”[2]
Sergeant Harlan C. Jeffery and his squad were up on the front lines as well. During the daylight hours, his group of flamethrowers and demolition experts were the point men assigned to attack any Japanese fortifications that proved too tough for the riflemen. The tradeoff for this hazardous and physically exhausting work was, usually, spending the night in the relative quiet of the battalion’s rear area. Flamethrowers and satchel charges were too dangerous to use after dark. However, after the punishment inflicted on the First Battalion on D-plus-17, the entire demolition platoon was called up as emergency reinforcements for Baker Company and fought as regular riflemen.
The Japanese managed to score some hits, as well. A pair of Marines sharing a foxhole were put out of commission with Japanese troops closing in. PFC John C. Pope saw a corpsman jump into the hole and pull out his bandages. Pope didn’t recognize the sailor – “he had just recently been assigned, and he hardly knew any of us” – but the sailor worked as quickly and professionally as if treating his closest friends. He was Pharmacist’s Mate Third Class Ralph W. Thomas, and although only twenty years old, he was one of the most experienced corpsmen in the battalion. Early in his career, while assigned to the USS John Penn, Thomas participated in the invasion of North Africa and was one of few men in the battalion entitled to wear the brownish-green campaign ribbon on his dress uniform. Assigned to the First Battalion at New River in March of 1943, he went on to serve in the Marshalls and the Marianas. Iwo Jima, he said, was “the damnedest party I was ever on” and he was tired of treating shrapnel wounds.[4]
As he worked on this latest casualty, a Japanese grenade sailed into the shell. Reacting instinctively, Thomas kicked the missile down into the dirt and planted both feet over it, taking the full force of the explosion. “The thought to save himself apparently did not even occur to him,” marveled Pope.[5] Although suffering “painful and crippling wounds,” Corpsman Thomas saved his patients. He would later receive the Navy Cross for his actions, becoming the only 1/24 corpsman so decorated in the entire war.
Unfortunately, Thomas could not be everywhere at once. A Baker Company Marine near JM Slaton’s foxhole was badly wounded; Slaton slung the man over his shoulder and started for the rear, but the Marine died in his arms. Slaton laid the man down and hurried back to the firing line.[6]
“Heavy attacks were made all along our front,” noted the battalion’s post-battle report.[7] An estimated 1,200 Japanese troops, many armed with demolition charges, attempted to break through American lines in various sectors before dawn on D+18. All attacks were repulsed, and as many as 900 corpses were counted in the morning.[8] The 24th Marines accounted for more than 250; about sixty lay in front of First Battalion’s line. “Some wise guy went out and counted the next morning,” commented Slaton. “There was a lot of ’em. When you get on a little place [like Iwo Jima] with thousands of Japanese and Marines all shooting at each other, you’re going to have a lot of bodies.”[9] Many of the dead Japanese bore the telltale wounds of suicide – after striking a grenade against their helmets, they held the bombs to their stomachs, chests, or heads. The Marines dubbed this latest charnel house “Hand Grenade Alley.”
The Consolidation
Division orders called for a renewed assault at 0700, but it was plain to all that neither the First nor Third Battalions of the 24th Marines would be ready to go at the appointed time. The previous day’s exertions and the exhausting night of combat had sapped their strength and disorganized the companies. In many cases, it wasn’t clear who was in charge at the platoon or squad level – and without that clarity, the attack would be doomed to failure.
The regimental headquarters was aware of the problem and made a drastic decision. The First Battalion would get new leadership and a new structure.
The future of 1/24 was placed in the hands of three men.
Lieutenant Colonel Austin R. Brunelli appeared at the battalion CP promptly at 0900. The regimental exec was well-known to all but the greenest Marines in 1/24. He excelled at battalion-level leadership; at Roi-Namur, he took 3/24 into combat and earned a Legion of Merit along with a Purple Heart. On Saipan, he stepped up to command 1/24 after the death of LtCol. Maynard C. Schultz and took the battalion through the roughest part of the campaign, personally leading reconnaissance parties and rallying troops when they faltered. His reward was a Silver Star Medal and the battalion’s respect.
Now that “Bunny” Brunelli was back in the saddle, Major Paul Treitel, the hard-luck CO, was relieved of command and sent back to the rear. “I can’t remember if Paul Treitel was wounded, or just used up,” commented Major Irving Schechter. “He had been in command for sixteen days, and very few battalion commanders lasted through the whole campaign.” [12] The assistant surgeon, Lt. (j.g.) Richards P. Lyon, was much blunter in his assessment. “Treitel was not wounded, except in the head,” he said. After two weeks of sharing his foxhole with the battalion commander, Lyon was not sorry to see him go.[13] Paul Treitel would continue his career in the Marine Corps; his past successes in battalion command with the 23rd Marines paved the way for the promotion to lieutenant colonel he so badly wanted. Iwo Jima was the end of his combat command.
Brunelli did not arrive alone; he brought Major Milton G. Cokin from regimental headquarters. Cokin was the assistant operations officer, but he earned his spurs and his reputation as the original commander of Baker Company. Major Schechter, the First Battalion’s operations officer (and original skipper of Able Company), was also summoned to the command post to hear Brunelli’s news.
Brunelli was brief. The battalion was being re-formed into two companies, commanded by Major Schechter and Major Cokin. The current commanders of Able and Baker Companies, 1Lt. Roy I. Wood, Jr., and Captain William A. Eddy, Jr., would serve as executive officers. This was a smart move; Wood and Eddy had previously served as execs to Schechter and Cokin, and their working relationship was sound. Charlie Company and the assault platoon were dissolved, and the men assigned to the two composite companies. With “all other available men” similarly assigned, Schechter would have a total of 135 men under his command; Cokin took charge of 115.[14] “Even these new companies were woefully under strength,” commented Schechter. “I suppose [mine] was called ‘A,’ but what difference did that make?” [15]
“We came back from the front lines this morning and ate some chow,” wrote Sergeant Jeffery. “We no sooner got thru eating, and they told us we was going to be permanently attached to B Co. So we went back up front and joined the company.” [16]
It took the balance of the morning to reorganize the battalion, but when they stepped off at 1300 hours, the change in leadership was noticeable. The trio of Brunelli, Schechter, and Cokin operated as a team, and they were reunited with their old units and men. Even the replacements recognized a difference. “He was out in front directing traffic,” said Private Harold J. Oberheide of Major Schechter, “pointing here, pointing there, motioning for this guy to go. He had his helmet under his arm and his swagger stick.”[17] (Refusal to wear a helmet was a Schechter trademark.) Any presumptions that “Buck” had lost his edge while serving on the battalion staff were dispelled when a Japanese soldier popped out of a spider trap and took aim at a young Marine. “I fired my carbine without even taking proper aim, and thank goodness I caught the Jap in the back,” said Schechter. “It all happened so fast that I didn’t realize what went on until it was all over. I’ll never forget it. I think that young Marine made it through the campaign, and that still gives me a good feeling.”[18]
Renewed Advance
The attack started slowly but gathered momentum throughout the afternoon. Both companies advanced “cave by cave, and by fire and movement,” with Major Cokin’s men notching 250 yards and Major Schechter’s between 150 and 200 yards.[19] Japanese resistance was starting to crumble in places as they were gradually compressed into a smaller and smaller area. Marines noticed more instances of Japanese troops moving between positions or out in the open, which Intelligence took to mean “an insufficient number of prepared positions to maintain a defense.”[20] It was clear, too, that the overnight attacks had taken a significant toll on the Japanese in the regimental sector. However, those who survived were no less motivated to fight on.
Corporal Al B. Kolar – formerly of Charlie Company, now attached to one of the composite companies – led a squad through sandstone rocks and tunnels until he encountered a Japanese fortification. Rather than attacking head-on, the platoon leader wanted a double envelopment, so Kolar took his men around to the right while another squad circled from the left. He lost sight of his buddies in the rough terrain, but the Japanese could see him. A rifleman drilled Kolar through the right leg just above the ankle, then hit him again in the left leg as he fell backward over a log. Kolar caught a glimpse of three Japanese soldiers, but was stuck with the top half his body bent over the tree trunk and his wounded legs exposed to the enemy. His rifle was lost in the fall, and his pistol belt twisted around a branch so he could not reach the weapon. Kolar was perfect bait, and the Japanese waited to see what his buddies would do.
The corporal was an intensely dangerous situation. These Japanese soldiers were unusually good marksmen; anyone who dared to go after Kolar ran the risk of being shot in turn. Selfless bravery would only complicate the problem. A corpsman called out; Kolar yelled that he was feeling cold, and his legs were going numb. A bottle sailed through the air and landed with a clink. Kolar grabbed for it eagerly and downed a medicinal dose of 100-proof LeJon brandy. Every few minutes, he would yell about feeling cold, and the corpsman would toss another bottle. The Japanese caught on and started shooting at the corpsman. Most of the bottles hit the ground out of reach.
Platoon Sergeant Mike Mervosh got wind of the situation and came to the rescue. When Kolar heard the distinctive barking voice of his old buddy, he quickly communicated where the Japanese were hiding. Mervosh called a mortar squad to send up a few rounds of high explosive and then lay a smokescreen over the area. It took the veteran mortarmen only three shots to demolish the cave. As the shells exploded, Kolar managed to wriggle back over the log and extricate his pistol, fully prepared to join the attack despite the bullet wounds in his legs. Instead, he heard Mervosh bellowing “We got ’em!” and saw his squad appear through the smoke. “How happy he was to see his Marine buddies coming to get him,” remembered Mervosh.[21]
Corporal Alva Perry was caught in a duel with another Japanese sniper. “This guy was good,” he remembered. “His shots were hitting so close to us we were afraid to move. He was a better shot than we were.” This was a tough admission for a veteran like Perry, whose prowess with the BAR was well-known to Able Company. Fortunately, he had some backup – his best buddy, PFC Edward H. Bookwalter.
Eddie Bookwalter hailed from Tacoma, Washington. A star swimmer for the Stadium High School Bengals, he once set a state record for the 200-yard relay and hoped to earn a spot on the Olympic team.[22] This never came to pass; instead, Eddie went to work as a copper smelter. The work was far from glamorous, but it was steady and allowed Eddie to marry and start a family of his own. After the Olympics, his greatest dream was to own a fishing trawler with his brother Wally. They would set their own rules and work for themselves.
In late 1943, Eddie received his draft notice and joined the Marine Corps. His athletic background served him well – he was a wrestler as well as a swimmer – and he was a natural on the rifle range. Immediately after boot camp, he was promoted to Private First Class and assigned to Camp Pendleton as a rifle instructor. By September of 1944, he was on his way to Hawaii as a replacement and met Al Perry at Camp Maui.
They were an odd couple. Al was nineteen, slightly built, and gritty after serving in three campaigns; he had notches in his BAR stock for every confirmed kill. Eddie was twenty-seven but, as a family man, seemed older.[23] He had all the exuberance of a green Marine and declared he would wrestle a Japanese soldier to death. They had almost nothing in common save their assignment to the Third Platoon of A/1/24, yet they hit it off almost immediately. Soon, Eddie’s wife Mary was writing letters to Al and sending photos of their home in Washington. Eddie even invited Al to join the trawler venture as a partner. Eddie, Wally, and Al. “Boy, that sounded good to me,” said Al Perry. He allowed himself to think ahead, to the end of the war and beyond. “Eddie was the closest friend I had. I thought the world of Eddie.”[24]
Now Eddie and Al, both combat veterans, were using every trick they knew to get after this one Japanese sniper, but to no avail.
The two Marines resigned themselves to trading shots with the sniper, figuring they would need to wait for dark to make their escape. Then they heard a familiar rumble and felt the ground vibrating beneath them. An American tank rolled up and halted right beside their shell hole. An inquisitive face poked out of the viewport. “Why are you down in that hole shooting?” asked the tanker.
“Well, there’s a sniper up there we can’t hit. If you can get him, take him out so we can get up.”
“Didn’t you fellows hear? General Hart said the island is secure.”
“The hell with that, you take that Jap out, and then we’ll come and celebrate with you.”
The viewport clanged shut, and the turret gyros whirred as the tank swiveled its gun, searching for the target. Three rounds of 75mm high explosive blasted out, one after the other, detonating with a crash in the sniper’s general area. “We got him,” called the tanker. “We saw his body fly up in the air.”
Eddie and Al waited for a moment. No shots.
They raised their heads. No shots.
They stood. Everything was quiet. The tanker grinned.
Seized by a giddy rush of excitement, Eddie and Al grabbed each other by the waist and started dancing up and down. Maybe the tanker was right. Maybe the island was secure; they could go back to the rear, go back to Maui, and get a one step closer to the fishing boat and home.
I felt his warm blood on my body.
I lost my best friend.[25]
Iwo Jima was far from secure. Two more weeks would pass before the final organized Japanese resistance ended; small groups and individuals would hold out much longer. More men were wounded, more men died. And, at least as far as Harlan Jefferey could tell, the day ended much as it began.
I hit one, and it knocked his arm off, so I finished him off with my pistol. The other two Nips started to run back up the road, but the rest of the boys got them.[26]
[1] Joyce M. Slaton, oral history interview conducted by William Hines. Joyce Martin Slaton Collection (AFC/2001/001/103297), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[2] “Marines Blast Japs In ‘Grenade Alley,’” The Reno Gazette-Journal (26 April 1945).
[3] Harlan Chester Jeffery, unpublished diary entry dated 9 March 1945, collection of the Tutalo family. Jeffery might be describing the incident that wounded Private James A. Moore, described in the narrative for 8 March 1945.
[4] “Iwo Battle Savage,” The Laredo Times, 11 March 1945.
[5] John C. Pope, Angel On My Shoulder, Kindle edition.
[6] Slaton interview.
[7] 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), 132. Hereafter “Final Report.”
[8] Headquarters, Expeditionary Troops, Task Force 56, “G-2 Report No. 19,” 9 March 1945, 1.
[9] Slaton interview.
[10] “Marines Blast Japs.”
[11] Irving Schechter, “The Lawyer Who Went to War,” Semper Fi, Mac, ed. Henry Berry (New York: Harper, 1982).
[12] Ibid.
[13] Richards P. Lyon, email to the author, 14 December 2013.
[14] Final Report, 133.
[15] Schechter, “The Lawyer Who Went to War.”
[16] Harlan Jeffery diary.
[17] Harold J. Oberheide, interview conducted by Gary Rhay (Harold Junior Oberheide Collection, AFC/2001/001/34224), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[18] Schechter, “The Lawyer Who Went to War.”
[19] “Final Report,” 133.
[20] Headquarters, Expeditionary Troops, Task Force 56, “G-2 Report No. 19,” 9 March 1945, 1.
[21] Gregg Stoner, Hardcore Iron Mike, Conqueror of Iwo Jima (Bloomington, iUniverse, 2015), 232-233.
[22] Eddie’s younger brother, Wallace Bookwalter, was on the same high school relay team.
[23] In his memoir, Perry pegs Bookwalter’s age at “about 35.”
[24] Alva Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company,” 2011.
[25] Ibid. When Al wrote to Mary Bookwalter informing her of Eddie’s death, she asked that he keep Eddie’s watch as a memento. Al wore the watch for years before “it was stolen at the Detroit YMCA.”
[26] Harlan Jeffery diary.
Battalion Daily Report
Casualties, Evacuations, Joinings & Transfers
KIA/DOW
WIA & EVAC*
SICK
JOINED
TRANSFERRED
STRENGTH
Out of 793 officers and men available for duty at beginning of month.
* Does not include minor wounds not requiring evacuation from the line.
| Name | Company | Rank | Role | Change | Cause | Disposition |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Birdsall, Robert Greenfield | "B" Composite | Sergent | MG Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Bookwalter, Edward Haller | "A" Composite | PFC | Basic | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, neck | Removed for burial |
| Brunelli, Austin Roger | Headquarters | Lieutenant Colonel | Battalion Commander | Joined | From HQ/24th Marines | To Battalion HQ |
| Chvatal, James John Jr. | "A" Composite | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Cokin, Milton George | "B" Composite | Major | Company Commander | Joined | From HQ/24th Marines | To Baker Company |
| Diehl, Luther Harold | "A" Composite | Sergeant | Ammo NCO | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| Euler, Robert Clark | "B" Composite | Second Lieutenant | Platoon NCO | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, shoulder | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Garaventa, John Jr. | "B" Composite | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Puncture, right ankle | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gillett, Franklin Walter | "A" Composite | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Hatley, Ralph Lester | "A" Composite | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Hicks, John Jr. | "A" Composite | Private | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Hoefle, Guy Kenneth | Composite (former Charlie) | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Blast Concussion | Evaucated to USS Solace |
| Hooks, Charles Day | "A" Composite | Private | Machine Gunner | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, neck | Removed for burial |
| Houck, Harvey George | Composite (former Charlie) | Corporal | Mortar Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Kalb, Edmund Vincent Sr. | Composite (former Charlie) | Private | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right kneww | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Kolar, Al Bernard | Composite (former Charlie) | Corporal | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, both legs | Evacuated to airport |
| Martin, Joseph Lewis Jr. | "B" Composite | Private | BARman | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| McCarthy, Robert Joseph | "B" Composite | Corporal | Basic | Wounded In Action | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| McTague, Joseph Walter | "B" Composite | Field Music 1c | Musician | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, arms | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Miller, John Joseph | "B" Composite | Corporal | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| Misamore, Robert Darnell | Headquarters | HA1c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Ohlrich, Leonard | "A" Composite | PFC | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, buttocks | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Pecori, Peter | "A" Composite | Corporal | MG Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, chest & face | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Philomeno, Ralph Samuel | "A" Composite | Corporal | Antitank Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right hand | Not evacuated |
| Proulx, Raymond George | "A" Composite | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Puliafico, Aniello Anthony | "B" Composite | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Baker Company |
| Ratley, Louis Eugene | "B" Composite | PFC | BARman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Baker Company |
| Schechter, Irving | "A" Composite | Major | Company Commander | Intra-battalion transfer | From HQ Company | To Able Company |
| Schwabl, Herman Norbert Jr. | "A" Composite | PFC | Basic | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, back | Not evacuated |
| Sides, Jack | "A" Composite | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sizemore, Sink Jr. | "A" Composite | Platoon Sergeant | Platoon NCO | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Stansky, Benjamin Raymond | Composite (former Charlie) | Private | Basic | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to field hospital |
| Thomas, Ralph Wallace | Headquarters | PhM3c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Grenade shrapnel, both feet | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Treitel, Paul Stanton | Headquarters | Major | Battalion Commander | Transferred | Relieved | To 4th Marine Division HQ |
| Weatherford, Paul | Composite (former Charlie) | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Webster, George Davis | Headquarters | Major | Bn-3 | Joined | From HQ/24th Marines | To Battalion HQ |
| Welborn, Hillyer Walter | "B" Composite | Private | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, back | Removed for burial |
| West, Edward James | Composite (former Charlie) | Private | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, buttocks | Not evacuated |
| Wojcechowski, Edward Stanley | Composite (former Charlie) | Private | BARman | Wounded In Action | Sprain, right ankle | Evacuated to USS Solace |
