BATTLE NARRATIVE
A Hard Thing To Live Down. Saipan: 17 June 1944
I do not believe that we sank lower at any time during the campaign.”[1]
The sky lightened in the east, bringing an end to the “worst night” of the war thus far experienced by BLT 1-24. As soon as they could safely move, Marines ventured from their foxholes to check on their buddies. Corpsmen and stretcher-bearers hurried to and fro, bandaging and comforting and carrying away the wounded.
The carnage revealed by the morning light told the story of the night before. A Baker Company sergeant was killed by shrapnel; the force of the explosion flung his body into a foxhole occupied by PFC Carl Weber. The young rifleman, afraid to move, spent the night trapped beneath the gory mess. In the morning, Weber wriggled free and wiped at the back of his neck, expecting to find a wound. Pieces of loose flesh came away in his hands; he saw that the sergeant’s head was split wide open. Weber was untouched.[2]
PFC Robert Tierney made a beeline for his buddy PFC Frederick Iverson. He was relieved to see “Ivy” moving about – then noticed two Japanese soldiers lying lifeless on the ground. Immediately, Tierney understood the scuffling and cursing he’d heard during the night. “[Ivy] happened to be right on the path where they were trying to get back to their places,” said Tierney. “He killed them with his bare hands.”[3] Iverson was bleeding from shrapnel wounds; corpsmen bandaged him up and sent him back to the beach.[4]
Captain Irving Schechter stood over the body of Sergeant Frank A. Tucker, the victim of a friendly fire incident. “He caught a full machine gun blast in his stomach. My God was he riddled!” said Schechter. “Literally cut in half. I used to wonder what the people back home thought when they saw the name of someone they knew on a KIA list. Did they think the corpse looked like the one they’d seen in a funeral parlor? Because if they did, they were sadly mistaken.”[5]
Tucker’s wife and son would be spared the grisly sight of his body and the tragic truth about his death. At least two war correspondents picked up and reported false tales. “Tucker was killed after the enemy had broken through his lines,” wrote 2Lt. Jim G. Lucas. “He was leading a squad to wipe them out.”[6] Sergeant Edward Ruder wrote a more garish crescendo:
When his machine gun was put out of action by enemy fire, the Sergeant picked up a small shovel and stood his ground. When the Japs closed in, Tucker hacked to death four of them before he was overcome.[7]
Sergeant Ruder’s lurid story was based, at least in part, by the information he was given by some of Tucker’s buddies who wanted to give him a sendoff befitting a hero of Namur. In truth, the sergeant was shot by a nervous young Marine after failing to give the proper password. His horrible death at the hands of a fellow Marine troubled the entire unit. “One of those unfortunate accidents of the hell of war,” said Corporal Oscar T. “Buddy” Hanson.[8] PFC Tommy Lynchard recalled that “our whole company was in shock.”[9]
Other Marines gazed in horror at the motionless forms dotting the bare eastern slope of the Fina Susu ridge. Among the dull greens and khakis of military uniforms were plain farmer’s clothes and brightly colored kimonos. The Japanese soldiers had used civilians as a screen to get close to the American positions. A few soldiers even disguised themselves in women’s clothing. All were mown down together. “In the darkness they were unable to identify themselves and as a result many lost their lives,” said Corporal Hanson. “Seeing their dead bodies was one of the saddest sights we had seen. But then, we had no concept of what we were yet to see.”[10]
PFC Robert D. Price, who spotted the subterfuge of the Japanese soldiers, was one of the first to enter the killing field. He never forgot the experience.
So I took this little tot out of her dead mother’s arms. Her mouth was all cracked – this little kid hadn’t had any water [for] I don’t know how long. Before I took her up to company headquarters, I took out my canteen cup and poured maybe half a cup of water and offered it to this little girl. She looked up at me with those big brown eyes, scared to death, but she grabbed on to it and put the cup up to her mouth and bit down. I didn’t want her to drink too fast, so I started to pull it out and she didn’t want to let me pull the cup out of her teeth. I took her back to the company just before we were ready to move out. I think I gave her to a Navy corpsman and asked the guy please to get her back, she’s got a bullet wound through her.
I tried to find out later how she made out, but never did. I’m sure that our corpsman took good care of her.[11]
It was the first time the battalion experienced such a terrible tragedy – and it would not be the last.
The effects of combat stress were becoming more noticeable on the Marines. Most of those afflicted by jangled nerves were able to settle themselves with a smoke and a cup of strong coffee; others needed a dose of something stronger, like PFC George A. Smith‘s slug of medicinal brandy. A few were evacuated to the beach; some returned within a few days, others in a few months, and some never returned.
First Lieutenant Frederic A. Stott commented on the transformation of fit fighting Marines into exhausted, nervous young men. “Physical exertion, nervous tension, lack of sleep, food, and water, and the effect of numerous casualties all combined to drain away strength and seriously lessen their combat efficiency,” he wrote.[12] Casualty reports for D+1 and D+2 show a marked uptick in diagnoses of “blast concussion” – the result of explosions – as well as the more nebulous “combat fatigue,” and “psychoneurosis.”
More than 140 men from BLT 1-24 had been killed or wounded since the late afternoon of 15 June.[13] Still, there was a rosy glimmer to the dawn of D+2.
Marines advancing down ridge. USMC photo by Sgt. John Fabion.
“I shook like a leaf every time I killed."
The day’s objective – another stretch of elevated ground, designated as the O-2 line – ran several hundred yards to the east. To the southeast lay Aslito Airfield, one of the main objectives of the operation. Reorganized but by no means rejuvenated, BLT 1-24 began moving along the eastern side of the Fina Susu ridge at 0730, descending the gentle slope and entering one of Saipan’s ubiquitous sugarcane fields. Sugar was Saipan’s primary peacetime export; farmers harvested the thick stalks and hauled heavy bundles to railheads for shipment to the refinery at Charan Kanoa. The approach of war halted production, and the carefully tended fields were now overgrown, burned out, and extremely dangerous to cross – “a serious hindrance” in the words of Lieutenant Stott.
PFC Edward Curylo, who had ditched his flamethrower in favor of an M1, recalled a favorite trick among Baker Company Marines. The Japanese on Saipan were unfamiliar with the eight-round clip of the American Garand semi-automatic rifle; they expected a bolt-action weapon with a five-round capacity. “We’d fire five shots, then move to another position and try to get them with the last three,” he said. “That confused them – not long, but for a day or so.”[18]
BLT 1-24 also drew the attention of heavier weapons emplaced near Japanese-occupied Aslito Airfield. Beginning at 0820, “persistent antiaircraft guns (muzzles depressed from their usual vertical position) firing from positions east of Aslito Airfield (probably on Nafutan Point)” targeted the battalion.[19] Corporal George P. Asack of Baker Company noticed the “AA guns shooting so that the shells fell straight down on Marines.”[20] His company endured the worst of this shelling; Asack himself was hit by shrapnel fragments that smashed his shoulder and paralyzed his right arm. The combination of flat-trajectory fire and “small, isolated strongpoints” in and around the cane field caused a great deal of maneuvering among the companies and hindered their advance.
Born on 20 August 1907 in Blossburg, New Mexico, Brunelli was educated at Colorado College and at Annapolis before earning his commission in 1931. In the opinion of his fellow midshipmen, he was a “gay caballero from New Mexico” who possessed an “acute, logical mind that never admits the superiority of a textbook or a problem.” His many friends called him “Bunny” or “Jose.”[23] His service history included time China with the American Legation, sea duty aboard the USS Lexington (followed by an earnest, but ultimately unsuccessful, bid to become a pilot) and command of the Marine detachment on the cruiser USS New Orleans. In 1940, as a captain, he was named as an aide to Major General Thomas Holcomb, Commandant of the Marine Corps. Brunelli accompanied Holcomb on a tour of the Pacific front in 1942 and saw the battlefields of Guadalcanal firsthand. He returned to the United States to attend Marine Corps Command and Staff College at Quantico, and took command of the Third Battalion, 24th Marines in 1943.
In his first experience under fire, Brunelli demonstrated an uncanny ability to defuse potential disasters. When a lack of landing craft at Roi-Namur forced him to reorganize his battalion on the fly, he not only got them ashore on time but reached his first objective faster than expected. Under his leadership, 3/24 played an impressive part in the subjugation of Namur; Brunelli was awarded the Legion of Merit (with Combat “V” Device) and a Purple Heart for some shrapnel in his leg. On 27 March 1944, he handed over his battalion to Lt. Col. Alexander A. Vandegrift, Jr., and joined the regimental staff.
Bruenlli possessed another key leadership trait: he knew how to coordinate with subordinates. He could have simply pulled rank upon arrival at the BLT 1-24 command post; instead, he met with Stott, Captain Gene G. Mundy, and Captain George D. Webster, Jr. and “gradually evolved a plan” based on their reconnaissance of the lines. While 1Lt. Waldo C. Lincoln set his 81mm mortar platoon to drop shells on the Japanese artillery – his indirect fire weapons could be safely operated out of sight of the anti-aircraft guns – Stott went off to find Bob Neiman.[24]
Major Robert Neiman commanded Company C, 4th Tank Battalion. His fourteen M4 Sherman medium tanks came ashore attached to BLT 2-23, but for the past two days had fought alongside the 24th Marines. Neiman witnessed the death of Lt. Col. Maynard C. Schultz during the briefing on D+1, and narrowly avoided the same fate while returning to his tank. Later that day, his company led the attack down the road towards the O-1 ridgeline, shot their way through a deep cut “swarming with Japanese” and nearly reached the airfield before losing a tank and retiring to safety.[25] Now refueled and rearmed, Neiman’s tankers were parked hull-down on the ridge, busily shooting up targets on the O-2 line.
With the support of armor and artillery, BLT 1-24 moved rapidly across the open ground. The Japanese defenders at Aslito Airfield turned their attention to the 25th Marines (who, along with the 165th Infantry Regiment, were tasked with taking the airfield itself). When Brunelli’s battalion reached the cliff-like base of the O-2 line, they were less than a mile from Magicienne Bay and the east coast of Saipan.
At right, Google Maps image of O-2 ridge today.
“You follow orders, regardless."
PFC Robert Tierney had to crane his neck to see his objective. From the flat ground of the cane field, the ridge looked more like a cliff; he guessed it had to be two hundred feet high. Tierney’s company was well-versed in steep ascents – many recalled “Buck’s Shortcut,” a cliff they climbed countless times at Camp Pendleton – but this climb looked like a real challenge. “We thought for sure we were going to have a real battle getting up that cliff,” he recalled. “Our company moved up – and luckily, here was a path going up the cliff. Apparently, the Japs had left it open.”[28] Several hours of shelling, plus the inexorable tank-infantry advance, convinced the Japanese to continue the fight elsewhere.
Those who stayed behind were in no condition to fight. PFC George Smith peeked into one cave and saw a pile of decomposing bodies. “We never saw any Japanese bodies – unless we killed them, that is – until we hit the O-2 line,” he said. “They were real masters of psychological warfare, recovering their dead so we never knew how hard we were hitting them. We came to these caves, and they’d evidently been bringing the bodies back and storing them in there. It was satisfying in a way, knowing we were getting them back.”[29]
Baker Company also faced a steep climb, and the Japanese to their front were not so easily intimidated. Corporal Harlan C. Jeffery remembered taking fire from the ridge as they crossed the field, and “I don’t know why, but I was the first one to go up that high hill.”
The top of the cliff opened up into a plateau of cane fields and low, rolling hills. At 1540 hours, the assault companies of BLT 1-24 radioed a report from the top of the cliff; an hour later, they were told to dig in for the night. Battalion headquarters remained on the flat land below. The lateness of the hour did not seem to register with command, and Lieutenant Stott expressed an infantryman’s frustration:
The approach of evening made resupply nearly impossible, and Stott grumbled about “driblets” of necessary material – food, water, and ammunition – arriving before darkness stopped the process.[31]
The “uneven line” was hardly ideal for night defense, and many men were rightly worried about a repeat of the hellish previous night. PFC Tierney felt his Able Company was “some distance ahead of our other units, and in a very precarious situation with the cliff behind us.” In the event of a concentrated attack, there was nowhere to withdraw. Mindful of this situation – and probably still troubled by the sight of Sergeant Frank Tucker’s riddled body – Captain Schechter ordered his men not to fire at single enemies or small groups.[32] American artillery had trouble plotting the exact locations of the front lines, and every now and again their fire support efforts triggered a “green star cluster,” a firework-like flare that indicated short rounds landing near friendly units. The battalion “acquired an appetite” for these pyrotechnics, according to Lieutenant Stott, and the story of one particularly bad barrage – as recalled by three Able Company veterans – gives ample reason why:[33]
We had some casualties from what they refer to now as “friendly fire.” One instance of this was when we called for artillery support, a couple of shells fell short and killed one Marine in our company and wounded two others.[34]
I remember one night on Saipan when both sides were giving us hell. For some reason, our own artillery was sighted in on us. There was no mistaking this – we could tell which way the shells were coming from. I was scared to death. Our company was being hit hard; men were crying for the corpsman, some were bleeding to death and begging for help, calling out to their mothers.
Captain Schechter had called our artillery to ask them to knock it off. The people he was talking to never seemed to get it through their heads that they and the Japs were blowing us to pieces. Finally after Schechter lost his temper at our artillery they stopped. The Japs kept it up for most of the night.
You are unable to do anything but squirrel as low in your hole as you can and put your fingers in your ears to stop the screaming and begging from men who are dying all around you.[35]
We ran into this friendly fire one time on Saipan while going through some cane fields. I immediately had some green star cluster fire shot up in the air, which was supposed to be the signal to our artillery to let up. Then I got on the phone with our battery commander to give him the word.
“Hey,” I told them, “one of our own shells has almost taken a leg off one of my men. Will you please cease fire?”
“Are you sure they’re our shells?” the reply came back. “Maybe they’re coming from the Nips on Tinian.”
This did get to me. I had no time to get into a debate so I started to shout. “No, no,” I said, “they’re ours all right. Please stop.”
Then to my utter amazement the voice on the other end of the line said, “What size are they?”
“What size?” I bellowed. “Circumcise, that’s what size!” Then I hung up. I wonder what he expected me to do, go out and catch one?
Anyway, they stopped the shelling, but the Japanese didn’t.[36]
While no major attacks developed, the Japanese were still active in the area – particularly along the right flank, where Baker Company held the line. After a close-range exchange of grenades left several men wounded. HA1c Raymond K. Robey, a twenty-year-old corpsman from Racine, Wisconsin, hurried over from his adjacent platoon to help. Ignoring the danger, Robey “completed his task expeditiously despite darkness and difficult conditions,” and was recommended for the Silver Star Medal.
PFC Tierney spotted one of the few enemy troops who approached the very left flank of Able Company’s position. Tierney was dug in at the base of one of the plateau’s low hills and could see the Japanese soldier’s silhouette against the night sky. Only twenty yards of open ground separated the two men – an easy shot for “900 Rounds Tierney” and his BAR, but he remembered his captain’s orders and held his fire. The Japanese stood stock still, listening intently; he clearly could not see the Marines. Then his hand moved from his waist to his helmet. Tierney heart the metallic clink of a grenade and ducked down as the shadowy figure flung the missile blindly into the darkness.[37] The muffled explosion was quickly swallowed by the quiet. Frustrated by the lack of response, the Japanese soldier went back down his side of the hill.
A few minutes later, Tierney heard the call for a corpsman.
Purely by chance, the grenade landed in a foxhole occupied by PFC Robert W. Vail, a twenty-year-old rifleman from Worcester, Massachusetts. Vail’s left leg was torn almost completely off; smaller pieces of shrapnel entered his body and head. A corpsman arrived in moments, flung a poncho over the blood-splatted foxhole, and worked frantically with a hand-held flashlight. His efforts were valiant but futile, and Bobby Vail died during the night.
Tierney only learned of the incident when he saw Vail’s body the next morning. The two Marines had been very close friends. “I had the Japanese in my sights and could easily have killed him, but did not do so because of the earlier orders,” he said many years later. “I had it in my power to take the guy out, but you follow orders, regardless. And that has always been a hard thing to live down.”[38]
[1] Frederic A. Stott, “Saipan Under Fire” (Andover: Frederic Stott, 1945), 5.
[2] Aubrey Weber, “Carl Weber – A World War II Veteran,” unpublished manuscript dated 16 May 2007. The NCO is not named but may have been Sergeant Jess E. Harville, Sergeant John J. Miller, Jr., or Platoon Sergeant John J. O’Brien, all of whom died from head wounds on 16-17 June. Harville was found partially decapitated and seems like the most likely match for this scenario.
[3] Robert E. Tierney, oral history interview conducted by John K. Driscoll, Wisconsin Veterans Museum, March 31, 2005.
[4] The battalion muster roll indicates that Iverson was “wounded and evacuated” on 16 June, however given Tierney’s memory and the fact that BLT 1-24 was unable to evacuate casualties during the nighttime attack, he was most likely evacuated on the morning of 17 June. USMC Casualty Card gives conflicting dates of 16 June and 22 June, and diagnoses of shrapnel wounds in the right buttocks and left forearm.
[5] Irving Schechter, quoted in Henry Berry, Semper Fi, Mac: Living Memories of the U. S. Marines in World War II (New York: Arbor House, 1982), 225.
[6] Jim G. Lucas, “Salesman Who Became Marine Hero Is Killed,” The Fort Worth Star-Telegram (Fort Worth, TX) 11 July 1944. Lucas interviewed Tucker on the voyage to Saipan; he presented the sergeant with some newspaper clippings about Roi-Namur. These clippings were found in Tucker’s pack.
[7] Sgt. Edward F. Ruder, “Marine Hero Dies Swinging Shovel At Japs On Saipan,” The Seminole Producer (Seminole, OK) 21 July 1944.
[8] Oscar T. Hanson, A Survivor, Not A Hero: World War II “The Hell Of War,” (Madison, GA: Oscar Hanson, 2003), 29.
[9] Tommy Lynchard, unpublished personal papers. Author’s collection.
[10] Hanson, 30.
[11] 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.
[12] Stott, 5-6.
[13] A count based on casualty cards and muster rolls indicates 142 casualties reported from 15-16 June. It is impossible to accurately separate the casualties of the night fighting from 16-17 June from those wounded or killed during daylight, so this number is almost certainly a low estimate.
[14] Stott, 6.
[15] Ibid.
[16] Howard M. Kerr, oral history interview conducted by Leslie Sheridan, Howard Matthew Kerr Collection (AFC/2001/001/65492), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[17] Norman M. Lucas Collection (AFC/2001/001/30436), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[18] Edward Curylo, oral history interview conducted by Brian Louwers (4 December 2013), Edward Curylo Collection (AFC/2001/001/94115), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[19] Carl W. Hoffman, Saipan: The Beginning of the End (Washington, DC: Headquarters, Historical Division US Marine Corps, 1950), 95. Parenthetical clarifications are Hoffman’s.
[20] Anonymous, “With Marines on World Battlefronts,” Marine Corps Chevron (San Diego, CA) 19 August 1944.
[21] Stott, 6.
[22] It appears that Brunelli arrived in an advisory capacity, and was appointed to command the following day. He was taken up on Battalion muster rolls as of 18 June 1944.
[23] “Lucky Bag” yearbook, United States Naval Academy, 1931.
[24] Stott, 6. Again, Stott makes no mention of Major Robert N. Fricke who was the acting battalion commander and should have been involved in the planning process. While the reasons for this omission are not known, it certainly seems to be deliberate and potentially intended as censure.
[25] Robert M. Neiman and Kenneth W. Estes, Tanks On The Beaches: A Marine Tanker in the Pacific War (College Station: University of Texas Press, 2003), 99-102.
[26] “These amphibious tanks, designed for operations in the water, performed brilliantly in ground missions in the early stages of the conflict when materiel losses deprived us of sufficient mechanized strength.” (Stott, “Saipan Under Fire,” 6.
[27] Neiman, 102-103. Neiman’s full assessment of cooperation with Stott appeared in his After Action Report for Company C, 4th Tank. Battalion: “This advance was noteworthy in that an infantry liaison officer rode with the Tank Company Commander, and supplied invaluable assistance in coordinated attack almost every time the infantry advanced over terrain which permitted tanks to maneuver.” Unfortunately, he does not mention Stott in his 2003 memoir, which implies he was operating with RCT-23 at the time.
[28] Robert E. Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience,” unpublished memoir dated 10 January 2013.
[29] George A. Smith, interview with the author, 2009. This statement is reinforced by Hoffman: “Until now (D+2) the enemy’s retreat had been orderly and had followed a definite pattern. They had carried away their dead and wounded so that our troops were unable to see how great was the damage of our fires. After 17 June, dead and wounded Japanese would often be found where they were hit, indicating a deterioration in their system of evacuation.” (Hoffman, Saipan, 98-99).
[30] Harlan Jeffery, undated interview conducted by Kyle Miller.
[31] Stott, 6.
[32] Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience.”
[33] Stott, 7. The exact date of this incident is not known.
[34] Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience.”
[35] Alva Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company,” 2011.
[36] Schechter in Berry, Semper Fi, Mac, 225.
[37] The standard Type 99 hand grenade used by Japanese troops was armed by striking the fuse on a hard surface – frequently a helmet.
[38] Tierney, 2005 interview.
Battalion Daily Report
Casualties, Evacuations, Joinings & Transfers
KIA/DOW
WIA & EVAC*
SICK
JOINED
TRANSFERRED
STRENGTH
Out of an original landing strength of 888 officers and men.
* Does not include minor wounds not requiring evacuation from the line.
| Name | Company | Rank | Role | Change | Cause | Disposition |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Asack, George Polus Jr. | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right shoulder | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Baker, William Leroy | Headquarters | PhM2c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Bartlett, Raymond Edward | Charlie | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, left chest | Removed for burial |
| Carpenter, Kenneth Marion | Baker | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel wounds, legs | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Carrozzo, Angelo Bernard | Charlie | Corporal | Basic | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, head | Removed for burial |
| Chorzempa, Andrew Joseph | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Cochran, James Bowlin | Baker | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Colgan, Timothy Bernard | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Grenade fragments | Removed for burial |
| Collins, Edward Patrick | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Multiple wounds & combat fatigue | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Eisenhart, Edward Davis | Headquarters | PFC | Scout | Wounded In Action | Explosive compression | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Eskildsen, Alfred | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Fitzpatrick, Donald Laverne | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left thigh | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Glenn, Billy Gene | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Graves, Coolidge Marion | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Grimes, Samuel King Jr. | Charlie | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left arm & leg | Evacuated to USS Leonard Wood |
| Guerra, Alfonso Angel | Headquarters | PhM3c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Harris, Ace Weldon Lee | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated to USS Fremont |
| Heer, Bertram Eugene | Charlie | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoulder | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Hobson, A. D. | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Died Of Wounds | Multiple gunshot wounds (17 June) | Died aboard USS Callaway; buried at sea |
| Hodge, Chester Roosevelt | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, face & back | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Iverson, George Clifton | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right hand & leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Jeffery, Ernest Mason | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left leg | Evacuated to USS Arthur Middleton |
| Jeffery, Harlan Chester | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoulder | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Jones, Thomas Stuart | Charlie | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, chest & right shoulder | Evacuated to USS Leonard Wood |
| Lilja, Verner Arvid Jr. | Able | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Amputation, left leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Lincoln, Waldo Chandler Jr. | Headquarters | First Lieutenant | 81mm Mortar Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right ankle | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Loban, Andrew | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Combat fatigue | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Magill, James Douglas | Baker | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Masterson, James Alexander | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left chest & compound jaw fracture | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Merchant, Frank "V." | Charlie | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, both arms | Evacuated to USS Callaway |
| Miller, John James Jr. | Baker | Sergeant | Platoon NCO, 1 Platoon | Killed In Action | Grenade fragments | Removed for burial |
| Mittuch, Martin Eugene | Charlie | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Removed for burial |
| Moss, Stewart Karl | Charlie | Corporal | MG Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Nelson, Warren Icel | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left eye | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Nobile, Salvador Michael Jr. | Baker | Corporal | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated to USS Callaway |
| O'Brien, John Joseph | Baker | Platoon Sergeant | Platoon NCO, 3 Platoon | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial |
| Ortega, Telesfor | Baker | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Killed In Action | Unknown | Removed for burial |
| Pilkenton, Colon Alfred | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Died Of Wounds | Shrapnel, right arm & leg (16 June) | Died aboard USS Brooks; buried at sea |
| Pinciak, Joseph Paul | Baker | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left leg | Evacuated to USS Callaway |
| Quigley, George Earl Jr. | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Multiple slight wounds | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Roark, Richard Leon | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right arm | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Rook, Wallace Richard | Charlie | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, chest | Evacuated to USS Callaway |
| Shattuck, Howard Francis Jr. | Baker | First Lieutenant | Leader, 1 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Tucker, Frank Allen | Able | Sergeant | Platoon Sergeant, 1 Platoon | Killed In Action | Multiple gunshot wounds | Removed for burial |
| Ultcht, William Albert | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right buttocks | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Vail, Robert William Jr. | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Removed for burial |
| Walter, Robert Milton | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left wrist | Evacuated to USS Bountiful |
| Wilson, Kenneth Sheridan | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, back | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Wolfe, Glenn Lawrence | Baker | PFC | BARman | Died Of Wounds | Multiple shrapnel wounds (16 June) | Died aboard USS Arthur Middleton; buried at sea |
