BATTLE NARRATIVE
Reserve. Iwo Jima: 11 – 15 March 1945
For the second time during the battle of Iwo Jima, the First Battalion 24th Marines found themselves in reserve positions. Exhausted, disorganized, and dispirited, they were approaching the end of their collective tether.
Luckily, Oscar Hanson noted, at the far end of the island “the fighting was not as fierce. It had slacked off at just the right time; we could not have taken much more.”[1]
After heavy casualties in the Meat Grinder, the command shake-up of D-plus-18, and the subsequent reorganization of companies, First Battalion was placed in Corps reserve. For several days, their routine was largely the same: combat patrols, area sweeps, collecting and cleaning equipment, and regaining their strength. The danger, while still present, subsided notably; the battalion’s log, once full of detailed accounts of disastrous attacks, reduced its reports to a sentence or two. This spell in reserve was as badly needed, if not more so, than the few days in early February. As it wore on, the Marines realized that the battle was approaching its end – but also knew they might be called back to the fight at any time.
11 March: Bypassed.
For the first time since landing on Iwo Jima, Private Harold J. Oberheide felt secure.
Over the past twelve days, his confidence in his abilities had grown. When he joined Able Company of the 24th Marines as a replacement at the end of February, he found he needed to forget his specialized training as a half-track driver and quickly re-learn the basics of infantry combat. Now he was an automatic rifleman – not by choice but by necessity – armed with a BAR that had once belonged to one of the company’s veterans. The weapon had a pistol grip fixed to the forestock, which helped the previous owner to aim but ultimately failed to save his life. Hal was learning to like the complicated weapon and developing his methods – like sighting targets with his pointer finger and squeezing the trigger by the middle. It’s what we call tricks of the trade.
His reflexes were improving, too. Once while listening to his sergeant, Hal spotted a Japanese soldier throwing a grenade. He dodged aside; the missile disappeared beneath one of his buddies. “Roll!” Hal yelled, “Roll! Roll!” and then they were all yelling, and the terrified Marine rolled once and tried to crawl away on his back but was so confused that he crawled back on top of the grenade just as it went off. Fortunately, it went off in his gluteus maximus, and it was very light metal, he got blasted in the rear end but survived. He was OK. If he would have rolled off it, I would have been the one that got it.
He had other close calls he could laugh about, now that they were in his past. The new guy – newer even than Hal – who was scared to cross the open ground and flopped down crying, I’m hit! I’m hit! when it was just water from his canteen. The rocket that clanged through the old radar mount while he and his buddies rested below. And the time he woke up and found he couldn’t move, and heard men debating whether he was alive and whether he should be moved. Two buddies pulled him out, and Hal found he’d been all but buried alive by a dud rocket. Gee, he thought, kinda scary, but God must want me around.
Today, though, Hal felt secure. His battalion was stationed in an assembly area a few thousand yards behind the front, and he had a good view of the airfield. The big silver B-29s were a familiar sight by now, especially the damaged ones coming in for a rough landing; they didn’t all make it, and occasionally a pall of smoke over the field marked the demise of a Superfort. Transport planes carrying hospital cases took off when fully loaded – even twenty days into the battle, they did a brisk business. Fragile-looking little spotter planes departed to circle over the northern end of the island, spotting targets for artillery. None of this activity particularly interested Hal Oberheide; he’d seen it all before. He was fascinated by the acrobatics of the 15th Fighter Group, the newest residents of Iwo Jima. “I’ll never forget the P-51s coming in,” he said decades later. “They would circle and line up, and then they’d come in, do a loop, and land. Every one of them. They were really good pilots! And when you saw that, you got a real good charge.”[2]
The sight of the pretty silver planes was almost enough to take his mind off the fact that he’d eaten a chocolate bar while sitting on top of a partly buried Japanese body.[3]
After a quiet night, First Battalion busied itself with patrols. Although theoretically in a quiet sector, the axiom “there was no rear on Iwo Jima” proved to be true as these patrols “constantly came across bypassed Japs,” alone or in pairs.[4] These encounters almost always went one way. Sergeant Harlan Jeffery described a typical encounter in his diary.
One strange event did occur during the day’s operations: a Japanese soldier delivered, alive, to the battalion headquarters.
He may have been the first – and only – POW captured by the Battalion during the campaign. In the entire operation, Regimental Combat Team 24 reported just four prisoners taken by its component units.[6] He did not go willingly, for he arrived wounded, but he did not resist too actively, for he arrived alive. As a corpsman treated his wounds, enlisted Marines attempted to gather necessary information, reading from phonetic cards if their grasp of Japanese was insufficient.[7]
“Shim-pie she-nigh-day,” they said. “Ko-ko-nee; ho-kah no stow iru ka?” Don’t be afraid. Are there other people in there?
While this example was used on Saipan, similar cards were issued prior to the Iwo Jima campaign. Author's collection.
If they managed to make their questions understood, they were often unprepared for a spoken response. The extent of language training was a scant eight weeks for selected enlisted men, and they were “trained mainly to aid in the handling of large numbers of civilians. They were to be used on military personnel only to get them to surrender, not for interrogation.” And, by this point in the campaign, most of these rudimentarily trained men were dead or wounded.[8] The amount of information gleaned from this particular prisoner was inconsequential; the battalion’s intelligence section did not even see fit to record their interaction in their report of the campaign. The Japanese soldier’s name, unit, and the circumstances of his capture are sadly unknown.
From the battalion CP, the prisoner was transported to Regimental headquarters for interrogation by the R-2 officer, Major Hanson. With the help of a language officer, Hanson posed questions about the prisoner’s unit, area of operations, and knowledge of the battle. These interviews were also quite brief, especially for a Japanese soldier captured in an isolated position – he had likely been separated from his buddies for several days. “The information was either confirmatory of previous information,” noted Major Hanson, “or of a local nature involving his place of capture.”[9] When Hanson was satisfied, MPs took charge of the prisoner for delivery to the Division stockade. Here, he joined a few dozen of his comrades and received food, new clothing, and a form to fill out.[10] The questioning would continue with nisei officers and, for the most part, the POWs were more than willing to share what information they had available – even sketching nearby defensive positions. “After a day or so in the stockade, all POWs, without exception, volunteered to help us in getting their comrades to surrender,” noted the 4th Marine Division report. “Several were willing to re-enter the enemy lines to help us accomplish this end.”[11]
Except for those involved in the capture of the POW and the ever-present tension felt by those on combat patrols, the Battalion passed the day resting, cleaning weapons, and salvaging equipment. And some, like Hal Oberheide, whiled away their time watching friendly planes come and go from the airfields their buddies died to capture.
The end of the battle was finally in sight. On this date, elements of the Fourth Marine Division reached the coast, encountering only sporadic resistance as they went. By the end of the day, Japanese resistance was limited to a single pocket of determined holdouts in Target Area 185PQV. It was only a matter of time until this last bastion fell – but any number of men might fall in the final conquest.
12 March: Patrols.
Three weeks after the landing on Iwo Jima, the First Battalion enjoyed what might have passed as a restful day. From midnight until dawn on D+21, the entire RCT-24 area was quiet and free from enemy activity.[12] No significant operations were recorded in the unit journal, save for the local combat patrols. This was infinitely preferable to spending time on the front lines – even as the front lines were shrinking. By the end of 12 March, Japanese resistance in the Fourth Marine Division sector was a small perimeter about 200 yards square in TA 185K.[13]
Small groups of men picked their way across TA182, combing through every crevice and old fighting emplacement. No living Japanese soldiers were found, nor was any intelligence material of note discovered. Troops not engaged in patrol duty were kept busy policing up the area for discarded, damaged, or salvageable equipment which was turned in to designated personnel for repair and re-issue.[14]
Two Baker Company men (Corporal David V. Colbert II and PFC Stephen Demchik) returned to the battalion and were assigned to one of the composite companies. No other noteworthy activity – whether administrative or enemy – occurred during the day.
13 March: Dispositions.
Once again, RCT-24 enjoyed a quiet night without disturbance from artillery or infiltrators. The First Battalion was ordered out of Corps Reserve as of 0800 and returned to regimental control, but this had little impact on the daily activities of the men in the foxholes. Combat patrols resumed their sweeps of TA-182, and the police details continued cleaning up the vicinity.
Sergeant Harlan Jeffery recorded an interesting event in his journal. He was instructed to pick a small team – four flamethrowers and two riflemen – and head to the beaches on Iwo’s western shore to meet up with some recon troops. They boarded landing craft and sailed out a few hundred meters to a little lump of land called Kama Rock. “There was supposed to have been an enemy mortar on it, firing at our front line troops,” Jeffery commented. The miniature amphibious operation was novel, but ultimately anticlimactic. “There was nothing on the island.”[15] After securing Kama Rock, the party re-boarded and headed for nearby Kangoku Rock. Abandoned positions and other signs of Japanese activity were found, but the island was otherwise deserted. The operation secured shortly after 1000 hours.[16]
Without live enemy to fight, attention turned to dead ones. Burial details picked through old fighting positions, hauling out fly-covered and reeking remains. Japanese bodies were searched for intelligence materials, and in the BLT 1-24 sector “many enemy documents were found, which were immediately sent to the Regimental Intelligence section.”[17] Once relieved of anything of military value – or of personal interest to the souvenir hunters – the Japanese bodies were buried as quickly as possible. Many found their final rest in the ruins of their bunkers, filled with stones and black sand. Others were sealed in caves by demolition squads. None received a cemetery burial, or were identified by name.
Whenever a Marine body was found, the remains were gathered in a poncho and carefully carried to a collection point for delivery to a cemetery. “We would gather up dog tags from people that were killed,” noted Private Harold Oberheide. “Usually we’d remove them, so we had the tag to show this guy was killed.”[18] Some of the fallen were a long time dead, and a handful of them could not be identified, but they were laid down in long rows just the same. And, on this quiet day, three members of BLT 1-24 were committed to the earth.
PFC Nathan Waldon Brown, PFC Lorrin Frederick Lane, and Private Aldo Louis Sorcinelli all suffered wounds to the head or neck during the fearsome fighting on 8 March 1945. They were evacuated to the Division field hospital but no farther; their wounds might have been too severe or the risk of shock too great. They died within a few hours of each other, and were brought to the Fourth Marine Division cemetery together. Graves Registration personnel were working on Row 33. Sorcinelli was laid in Grave 1629; Brown followed in Grave 1635; Lane occupied Grave 1638. One hopes that some of their buddies were present to bid them farewell.
A few men did make the trip over to the cemetery. As Corporal Alva Perry walked through the rows of crosses, he was struck by a strange thought. “Had the burial detail put in all the arms and legs of the men who had lost them? Or did they have a burial plot for the pieces left over, like in the Civil War?” He read the names on the white crosses and “my heart was heavy, we had not won – nobody had.”[19] Hal Oberheide went down “to see people that we knew. My buddy and I found a bunch of them.” He watched a bulldozer scoop out a long trench, followed by service troops who spaced out the bodies with grim regularity. When a row was complete, the bulldozer made another pass and filled in the trench. “They had a form the size of a coffin turned upside down to make a raised mound,” he explained, “and we’d put a cross by it. They said they was going to bring the bodies home… it was going to be a real job identifying all of [them].”[20]
During the time First Battalion spent in reserve, the Fourth Marine Division Cemetery passed 1,700 burials. And still the bodies kept coming.
14 March: Rumors.
While the orders received on D+23 were unchanged – local patrols, salvaging of equipment, cleaning of weapons, and policing of area – the atmosphere at headquarters was beginning to change.
The acting Bn-3, Major George D. Webster, got wind of a plan to send BLT 1-24 back to the lines – theoretically to relieve the tired troops of BLT 2-24 who were badly in need of a rest. Webster called up the two acting company commanders – Major Irving Schechter and Major Milton G. Cokin – and the three veteran officers departed for the front to make their own reconnaissance. Knowing what lay ahead would enable them to anticipate problems in their path. This was a practical move by three experienced men whose “battle sensitivities were higher than others,” according to Lt. (j.g) Richards P. Lyon.[21]
The Word began rippling down to the ranks, and the Marines began mentally preparing themselves for the final effort.
Majors Webster, Schechter, and Cokin as they appeared in March 1945.
15 March: Standby.
The twenty-sixth day on Iwo brought the anticipated orders for BLT 1-24: stand by to move out.
Major Webster’s dope of the previous day turned out to be wrong. The battalion would not be relieving BLT 2-24; instead, they would assume control of a larger sector. “Company A was to relieve and occupy the lines of BLT 1-23, which had three companies abreast,” noted the operations report. “Company B was to relieve BLT 3-23.” The company commanders repeated their reconnaissance missions of the previous day, learning the route to the front lines and talking with their counterparts in the 23rd Marines.[22]
Major Schechter knew he had a tall order to fill, even though the Japanese were cornered. He had about one hundred men – half a company – under his command. While the veterans knew and loved “Buck,” a sizable percentage were strangers to him, either replacements or reassigned personnel from the disbanded Charlie Company. To further complicate the issue, one of his platoons was to be attached to BLT 3-24; he would make up the difference by borrowing the 81mm mortar platoon, armed to fight as riflemen.
However, Schechter was a master of the motivating pep talk. PFC John C. Pope watched the major addressing his assembled men on the evening of 15 March. “Schechter passed the word he was going into the area first thing in the morning with a patrol for an overnight stay, and fight it out if necessary,” Pope recalled. “He needed a group of volunteers to come along.”
One last effort, one gutsy patrol, led by a combat veteran who wanted only the most motivated guys in the battalion for help. It wasn’t quite what the operations order demanded, but it did the trick. “We groaned,” said Pope, but when the time came and Schechter took the lead, “every man fell in behind him.”[23]
1. Oscar T. Hanson, A Survivor, Not A Hero: World War II “The Hell Of War,” (Madison, GA: Oscar Hanson, 2003), 44.
2. The 15th Fighter Group (the 45th, 47th, and 78th Fighter Squadrons) flew the first P-51s into Iwo Jima on 6-7 March and immediately began support missions for the ground troops. By mid-March, they were flying sorties against other islands in the Bonins Group; eventually, they would escort bombers to Japan itself.
3. 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. Hereafter, “Oberheide Interview.”
4. 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), 134. Hereafter, “Final Report.”
5. Harlan Chester Jeffery, unpublished diary entry dated 11 March 1945, collection of Domenick P. Tutalo.
6. “Three were Army personnel; one was a cook from a Naval Aviation unit. Other prisoners captured by component BLTs while they were attached to either RCT-23 or RCT-25 were evacuated through those organizations.” Author unknown, “Intelligence,” in Annex Baker to Fourth Marine Division Report on Iwo Jima: RCT 24 Report (20 April 1945), 56. The entire 4th Marine Division took 44 prisoners.
7. The battalion did not have any language officers attached for the operation, and only a handful of enlisted Marines had more than the most rudimentary grasp on the Japanese language. Phonetic cards with common phrases were issued before operations.
8. Annex Baker, 56-57.
9. Ibid., 58.
10. “Because of the well-established belief that all Japanese are regimented throughout their lives, an experimental form was devised for the questioning of POWs. The form was printed entirely in Japanese and adhered chiefly to personal and military questions, the answers to which could be easily and concisely filled out by the POW. At the beginning of the stockade questioning, one of the forms was handed to the POW with instructions to fill out the required information. Having been handed a form in his native tongue, which was typical of other forms he had been accustomed to, each POW without exception willingly cooperated. This initial cooperation carried on naturally into his subsequent relations with the interrogating officers and proved of great value.” Clifton B. Cates, “Annex Baker to Fourth Marine Division Operations Report, Iwo Jima: Intelligence” in Operations Report – Iwo Jima, 19 February to 16 March 1945 (18 May 1945), 13.
11. Ibid., 14.
12. Colonel Walter I. Jordan, Annex George to Fourth Marine Division Report on Iwo Jima: RCT 24 Report (20 April 1945), 13. Hereafter, “Regimental Report.”
13. Headquarters, Expeditionary Troops, Task Force 56, “G-2 Report No. 22,” 12 March 1945.
14. “Final Report,” 134.
15. Harlan Chester Jeffery, unpublished diary entry dated 14 March 1945, collection of Domenick P. Tutalo.
16. Headquarters, Expeditionary Troops, Task Force 56, “G-2 Report No. 22,” 13 March 1945.
17. “Final Report,” 134.
18. Oberheide interview.
19. Alva Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company,” 2011.
20. Oberheide interview.
21. Richards P. Lyon, “The Surgeon on Iwo Jima.”
22. “Final Report,” 134.
23. John C. Pope, Angel On My Shoulder, Kindle edition.
Report Of Changes, March 11 – 15
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 | Date Of Event | Change | Cause | Disposition |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Brown, Nathan Waldon | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | 13 March 1945 | Died Of Wounds | Shrapnel, head (8 March) | To 4th Marine Division Cemetery |
| Chvatal, James John Jr. | Able | Corporal | Squad Leader | 11 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To "A" Composite |
| Colbert, David Vaughn II | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | 12 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To "B" Composite |
| Demchik, Stephen | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | 12 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To "B" Composite |
| Houck, Harvey George | Charlie | Corporal | Mortar Squad Leader | 11 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Composite Company |
| Kelley, Henry Clayton | Able | PFC | Rifleman | 12 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To "A" Composite |
| Lane, Lorrin Frederick | Charlie | PFC | BARman | 13 March 1945 | Died Of Wounds | Shrapnel, neck (8 March) | To 4th Marine Division Cemetery |
| Nurenberg, Lavern Clark | Charlie | Private | Antitank Gunner | 14 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Composite Company |
| Pierson, John Howard | Baker | Private | Antitank Gunner | 13 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To "B" Composite |
| Slevin, Francis Robert | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | 12 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Composite Company |
| Sorcinelli, Aldo Louis | Baker | Private | BARman | 13 March 1945 | Died Of Wounds | Shrapnel, face & chest (8 March) | To 4th Marine Division Cemetery |
| Stansky, Benjamin Raymond | Charlie | Private | Basic | 13 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Composite Company |
| Suroweic, Joseph John Sr. | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | 13 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To "B" Composite |
| White, James Roland | Charlie | Private | Basic | 13 March 1945 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Composite Company |
