BATTLE NARRATIVE
Anticipated But Unwelcome. Saipan: 6 July 1944
Every few days, PFC Alva R. Perry, Jr. took out his knife and carved a little notch in the stock of his Browning Automatic Rifle.
Perry, a nineteen-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee, was one of Able Company’s professional point men. Whenever Captain Irving Schechter called “Scouts out!” Perry would trot out twenty yards in front of the company and lead the advance. It was extremely dangerous, stressful work, requiring a great deal of personal bravery, but Perry did not consider himself a hero. He reserved that praise for a tall Marine whose name he did not know.
Perry could recall the scene with perfect clarity. His battalion was descending from the high ground near Mount Tapochau when they came to the edge of a clearing – a football field’s worth open ground, sloping down and then up to the next tree line, with no cover to be had. “We were informed that the best way to make it across this huge open space was to run as fast as we could to the cover at the top of the hill,” Perry remembered. “The Japs would not have time to line up their artillery, and we would only be under some sniper fire.”
The Marines took off at a sprint, each man trying to break the record for the hundred-yard dash. Perry, already dehydrated and exhausted, blacked out and had to crawl the last few yards to safety. As he struggled for breath, he heard somebody calling for help. The Japanese had scored at least one hit; a “feather merchant” – a short Marine – was lying in the open about halfway across the field, unable to move. A much taller Marine emerged and back down the slope to the wounded man. A spontaneous cheer, “just like a high school football game” swept through the battalion as the tall Marine lifted the shorter man to his feet.
“We were too far away to help them,” wrote Perry many years later.
The cheering stops. A voice sounds: “Scouts out. Don’t bunch up.”[1]
The notches on Perry’s BAR were a tally of his payback for the two Marines in the clearing, and for dozens of his buddies killed or wounded in the fighting for Saipan. Most of them represented anonymous Japanese faces seen for a moment in a muzzle flash, or grotesquely contorted after death. Once in a great while, one inspired a stronger reaction – of anger, of excitement, or even pity. There was a notch for the day Perry was in reserve, smoking a cigarette and complaining about the lack of water. The sound of running feet and sloshing water drew his attention.
I removed his raincoat and found canteens tied around his waist on a rope. He had obviously been out hunting for water for his own people; these canteens must have been taken from dead Marines. I started to drink from one of the canteens and looked down at the face of the dead man.
He was just a young kid, maybe 15 or 16 years of age. I felt sorrow to have shot someone so young.
“Oh, my God – that's my arm."
PFC Robert E. Tierney knew the lay of the land in front of his foxhole. There wasn’t much to see – just a building barely big enough to be a one-car garage back home, and a low rock wall 300 yards away – but Tierney knew them intimately because “the Navy put up thousands of flares.” He didn’t mind the precautions; rumors flew about a pending banzai attack, and as the right flank guard it was Tierney’s job to alert the line in case of trouble.
Alert the line. Tierney knew there were only seventeen men in the immediate vicinity; as far as it mattered, they were the only ones left in the Company.[3] They were, at least, heavily armed. “Three of us had BARs, one bazooka, two air-cooled and two water-cooled machine guns. The rest had M1 rifles.” As his foxhole buddy PFC Robert P. Wynne snored softly beside him and the sun began to rise, Tierney relaxed ever so slightly, enjoying the slight fog and the quiet stillness.
The he heard the snap of a breaking sugarcane stalk. Tierney elbowed his buddy; Wynne woke with a start and passed the signal down the line. Seventeen pairs of eyes fixed on the rock wall three hundred yards away.[4]
On the opposite end of the line, Corporal Robert L. Williams was up and about. “It was still dark when somebody came to tell me to take my men and spread them out,” he recalled. “They expected the enemy to come through.” He collared two buddies and crept down to the left flank, placing them at intervals. Like a good leader, Williams took the furthest, most exposed position for himself. He had his spot all picked out – but the Japanese were already there. “This enemy soldier jumped up, and he’s throwing a hand grenade, Williams continued. “I started shooting at him and hit the deck. I turned to look, and the hand grenade is laying right next to my leg.”
I didn’t even know I was hit until I got down in the bottom of that crater. I thought, "if he’s throwing any more grenades, this is no place to be. I’ve gotta get out of here.” I grabbed my rifle to start running out of the bomb crater, and – uh oh, what’s going on? It looked like a rope was flopping around.
Oh, my God – that’s my arm. I have no feeling, no nothing, no pain.[5]
Japanese troops came swarming out of the woods towards Able Company. “Our whole line opened up, and our bazooka man put a couple of shells into the small building,” said Tierney. “With our firepower, they did not stand a chance.” One enemy soldier got close enough to lob a grenade at the right flank foxhole; Tierney and Wynne jumped out as the missile exploded, then rolled right back in again, heedless of their shrapnel wounds.
In another foxhole a few yards away, Al Perry ran magazine after magazine through his BAR. He stood up and, quite calmly, walked directly into the teeth of the Japanese charge, firing his weapon from the hip and “setting heroic examples for the balance of his platoon.” His buddies got up and followed, counterattacking the counterattack and breaking its back. Amazingly, Tierney and Wynne were the only casualties from the group of seventeen. “A few small pieces of shrapnel in our legs,” said Tierney. “The corpsman put a couple of small bandages on, and we stayed with the company.”[6]
Bob Williams emerged from his crater just as the Japanese attack began. “The corpsman was yelling – ‘stay there! Stay there! Get down!’ I said, ‘no way – I’m coming in!’ They cut my jacket off me, put my arm in a sling, and gave me my morphine.” A partly loaded ambulance jeep arrived, and Williams was placed on a stretcher below a seriously wounded man. He was soon splattered in the man’s blood as it seeped through the stretcher. “To make matters worse, to get back to the battalion aid station they had to drive along the front lines,” he said. “A sniper starts opening up on us.” The Marine riding shotgun fired off a few rounds as the jeep sped out of range. The whole escapade was “a comedy of errors,” but Williams eventually reached the battalion aid station.
Corpsmen at the aid station cut off the rest of Williams’ clothes (“they didn’t change the bandage…. the only thing I had left to wear were my shoes”) and hoisted his stretcher aboard a truck bound for the beach. The man beside him kept vomiting blood and bile, and weakly muttering “Oh, I’m sorry” with every salvo. No spare clothes were available at the beach hospital, so Williams wandered about wrapped in a blanket “like an Indian chief” until a boat arrived to take him to a ship. The smashed arm spelled the end of his combat career; almost exactly one year later, he received his disability discharge.[7]
“A minor counterattack… was repulsed with little difficulty,” noted the regimental war diary.[8] In the quiet that followed, Al Perry pulled out his knife and added twenty-seven new notches to his BAR.[9]
“We swung a salient."
“An early morning trip to the battalion C.P. brought the anticipated but unwelcome order to continue the attack along the high ground,” reported 1Lt. Frederic A. Stott, the acting skipper of Charlie Company.
Starting at 0700, the Marines heard echoing gunfire and explosions off to their left where the hard luck 27th Infantry Division was once again attempting an advance against tough terrain and well-entrenched Japanese. The area, “heavily mined and consisting of enemy pillboxes and strong points” slowed the Army to such a degree that by 0900 – King Hour for the 4th Marine Division – “the 27th InfDiv had made no perceptible advance.”[10]Plans for the two divisions to proceed side-by-side to Marpi Point were scotched, and at 0920 General Holland M. Smith assigned responsibility for subduing the rest of northern Saipan to the 4th Marine Division. The 27th Division faced the daunting task of prying the Japanese out of last-stand positions near Tanapag, Makunsha, and the ominously named Harakiri Gulch.[11]
This decision compelled the Marines to cover Saipan from coast to coast, and Lieutenant Stott recalled that “we swung a salient down toward the western shore a mile north of Tanapag.” With Able and Baker Companies in the assault, BLT 1-24 moved with “excellent control.”[12] Baker Company captured two prisoners – one “possible military” – and sent them back to the stockade.[13] The notation of “possible military” in the war diary suggests that captured Japanese soldiers were a rarity for the battalion; usually, “nothing was left alive,” according to PFC Edward Curylo. “Until we got orders from the generals sitting on the battleships, you know. Then we started bringing in the prisoners.” His description of a prisoner escort mission may have taken place on 6 July.
As BLT 1-24 began heading down the western ridge between the villages of Matansa and Matoisa, they encountered some of the Japanese troops whose determined defenses held up the Army. Baker Company sent out a platoon for a scouting mission, let by the versatile 1Lt. Charles W. Carbeau, Jr. Carbeau, a liaison officer turned transport quartermaster, had only been back with the battalion for five days; he lacked experience handling troops in the field, but was acquitting himself well with his inherited platoon. Unfortunately, he drew the attention of a Japanese sniper and was shot through the stomach. Demonstrating “splendid leadership and extreme personal courage in the face of grave peril,” Bill Carbeau managed to extricate his men before dying of his wounds.[16] He received a posthumous Silver Star Medal for his actions. Sergeant Albert J. Estergall, guide for Baker Company’s Second Platoon, also suffered “painful wounds” but “courageously led his squad throughout the assault, closing in on the enemy and annihilating hostile troops in their foxholes.” Estergall lived to wear his Silver Star Medal.[17] As a Baker Company machine gun crew took on a cave of Japanese, a careless Marine on a cliff behind them pitched a hand grenade. PFC Perry Allen, a seventeen-year-old Navajo from Shiprock, New Mexico, saw the grenade hit a tree and explode, showering his buddies with shrapnel. Allen caught a piece of metal in his hand; he was evacuated along with PFC Claude Chamberlain.[18]
Able Company faced increasing resistance as well. At 1420 hours, a single mortar shell exploded in the treetops, raining metal and wooden splinters that killed PFC William J. Olson and hurt several others – a total of “ten to twelve” casualties, according to the war diary. The wounded included 1Lt. Harry D. Reynolds, Jr. and 1Lt. Roy I. Wood, Jr., both of whom fell with shrapnel in the chest. Neither officer willingly consented to evacuation; Wood kept directing fire and had to be ordered from the field, while “Big Harry” insisted that all other wounded men be treated first. Both men survived and were decorated; Wood with the Bronze Star and Reynolds with the Silver Star – his second award.
Yet another Silver Star Medal was awarded to Corporal Stanley Sander of Charlie Company. Although Charlie was in battalion reserve, they still had to negotiate the thick woods and steep ridges concealing Japanese defensive positions. At one point in the afternoon, contact between platoons was lost and Sander drew the task of finding friendly units on his left. “Leading his squad into a thickly wooded area where there were known to be caves harboring enemy troops,” Sander accomplished his mission and destroyed an enemy outpost with “coolness and outstanding courage.”[19]
There was an extra edge of anticipation that night. Shortly before dark, a battalion patrol brought in five more prisoners who “seem[ed] to be soldiers” and delivered them to the command post.[23] Stott’s phone buzzed; he picked up the receiver and heard the Word from his new boss, Lt. Col. Otto Lessing. “He relayed the news that, based on prisoner of war accounts, there existed the distinct possibility of an immediate and strong counterattack,” remembered Stott. “We remained on the alert.”[24] The news quickly spread down the line. “We were able to capture a prisoner who spoke English,” said Tierney. “The prisoner informed us that the balance of the Japanese garrison was planning a banzai attack.”[25]
The POW was quite right. Lieutenant General Yoshitsugu Saitō, commanding the Japanese forces on Saipan, had indeed ordered an all-out attack against the American advance. His order, issued on the morning of 6 July 1944, would be his last address to the men under his command.
I am addressing the officers and men of the Imperial Army on Saipan.
For more than twenty days since the American Devils attacked, the officers, and men, and civilian employees of the Imperial Army and Navy on this island have fought well and bravely. Everywhere they have demonstrated the honor and glory of the Imperial Forces. I expected every man would do his duty.
Heaven has not given us an opportunity. We have not been able to utilize fully the terrain. We have fought in unison up to the present time, but we no longer have the materials with which to fight and our artillery for attacks has been completely destroyed. Our comrades have fallen beside one another. Despite the bitterness of defeat, we pledge, “Seven lives to repay our country.”
The barbarous attack of the enemy is being continued. Even though the enemy has occupied only a corner of Saipan, we are dying without avail under the violent shelling and bombing. Whether we attack or whether we stay where we are, there is only death. However, in death there is life. We must utilize this opportunity to exalt true Japanese manhood. I will advance with those who remain to deliver still another blow to the American Devils, and leave my bones on Saipan as a bulwark of the Pacific.
As it says in the Senjinkun, "I will never suffer the disgrace of being taken alive," and "I will offer up the courage of my soul and calmly rejoice in living by the eternal principle."
Here I pray with you for the eternal life of the Emperor and the welfare of the country, and I advance to seek out the enemy.
Follow me![26]
General Saitō then retired to his command post where, following a meager farewell feast, he committed ritual suicide.[27]
“Throughout the night there was scattered fire as an occasional Jap attempted to slip through, or previously unnoticed soldiers and civilians emerged from their hiding places.” recalled Lieutenant Stott. “This was not unusual, but the publicized pattern of the banzai attack grew clearer when below us we heard the jumble of many voices.”[28] The day ended as it began, with star shells and flares lighting the sky, and nervous men on both sides awaiting the dawn – which would bring the final, furious attack of Saitō’s garrison, the largest banzai attack of the war.
[1] Sadly, the date of this occurrence and the names of the men involved aren’t known. Perry references “leaving the highest point of Mt. Tapochau” which tentatively places the event in early July.
[2] Alva Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company,” 2011.
[3] Robert E. Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience,” unpublished memoir dated 10 January 2013. Tierney’s account implies that these seventeen men were all that remained of the entire company; however muster rolls do not indicate that Company A was ever below half strength on Saipan. Tierney likely means there were only that many left in his platoon – still a considerable loss, as a platoon on paper had 40 Marines.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Robert L. Williams, “In My Own Words,” interview conducted by Veteran Voices of Pittsburgh, March 12, 2014.
[6] Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience.” Bob Wynne was evacuated on 6 July with shrapnel wounds in his left arm and back; he may have been hit again later in the day, as these wounds led to a disability discharge.
[7] Williams, “In My Own Words.”
[8] “Report of RCT-24,” 28 August 1944, in Operations Report, 4th Marine Division, Saipan, Annex I (San Diego: Headquarters, 4th Marine Division, 3 October 1944), 24. Hereafter RCT 24 Final Report.
[9] Alva Perry, “The Men of ‘A’ Company.” Perry received the Silver Star Medal for this event; the citation credits him with killing 27 enemy soldiers. (Alva R. Perry, citation for Silver Star Medal, Headquarters USMC. Available online.)
[10] Colonel R. E. Hogaboom, Headquarters Northern Troops and Landing Force, Marianas Phase I (Saipan), Enclosure E, “G-3 Report,” Periodic Report #22 (6 July 1944).
[11] Carl W. Hoffman, Saipan: The Beginning of the End (Washington, DC: Headquarters, Historical Division US Marine Corps, 1950), 213.
[12] Frederic A. Stott, “Saipan Under Fire” (Andover: Frederic Stott, 1945), 17.
[13] “Action Report: First Battalion, 24th Marines Record of Events, 15 June – 9 July 1944″ (24 August 1944),. Hereafter BLT 1-24 Report..
[14] 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. “There was a little more to it,” Curylo told his interviewer, “but I’m not going to tell you that part.”
[15] BLT 1-24 Report.
[16] Charles W. Carbeau, Jr., citation for Silver Star Medal, Headquarters USMC. Available online.
[17] Albert J. Estergall, citation for Silver Star Medal, Headquarters USMC. Available online. Estergall’s USMC Casualty Card notes that he received a piece of shrapnel in the left arm on 8 July, rather than 6 July, and was not evacuated.
[18] “Allen Gets Purple Heart 25 Years after Saipan,” The Window Rock Navajo Times (Window Rock, AZ) 25 September 1969.
[19] Stanley Sander, citation for Silver Star Medal, . The citation notes that Sander was “shot and painfully wounded” on this mission, however casualty reports state that he was instead slightly wounded on 8 July.
[20] Clifton B. Cates, “Fourth Marine Division Operations Report, Saipan, 15 June to 9 July 1944,” (18 September 1944), 33. Hereafter “4MarDiv Ops Report.”
[21] RCT-24 Final Report.
[22] Stott, 17.
[23] BLT 1-24 Report.
[24] Stott, 17.
[25] Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience.” In retelling this story, Tierney appears to conflate the events of 6 July and 7 July. Able Company experienced dawn attacks on both dates.
[26] Hoffman, 222-223. Translation by D-2 Section, 4th Marine Division, 11 July 1944. This message was related by the intelligence officer of the Japanese 43rd Division, captured on 8 July.
[27] Hoffman, 283.
[28] Stott, 17.
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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Allen, Perry | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left hand | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Baker, William Leroy | Headquarters | PhM2c | Corpsman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To HQ Company |
| Beehner, Kenneth August | Headquarters | First Lieutenant | 81mm Mortar Officer | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Bolduc, Lionel Victor | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right shoulder | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Carbeau, Charles William Jr. | Baker | First Lieutenant | Acting Platoon Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Removed for burial |
| Chamberlain, Claude Lee | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, hand & arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Chvatal, James John Jr. | Able | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Collins, Edgar Wendell | Able | Corporal | Signalman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right thigh | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Cowan, Joseph Bradley | Charlie | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Duncan, Wallace William | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left leg | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Fleischauer, Robert Frederick | Able | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left knee | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Frazier, James Russell | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, lumbar region | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Hearn, Charles Albert Jr. | Headquarters | PhM3c | Corpsman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To HQ Company |
| Imm, William Joseph Jr. | Able | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Laceration, left hip | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Kocher, John William | Headquarters | PFC | Radioman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, face | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Locatelli, Peter | Charlie | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Marsh, Byron Huntington | Able | Corporal | Squad Leader | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Able Company |
| Mohr, Jacob Francis | Headquarters | PFC | Driver | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To HQ Company |
| Murach, John Joseph | Headquarters | PFC | Code Clerk | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To HQ Company |
| Olson, William Joel | Able | PFC | BARman | Killed In Action | Mortar shrapnel | Removed for burial |
| Reynolds, Harry Dare Jr. | Able | First Lieutenant | Executive Officer | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Rice, Kenneth | Charlie | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Russell, Walter Bruce | Able | Gunnery Sergeant | Gunnery Sergeant | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Salazar, Lionel Perez | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Segraves, Elmer William | Charlie | PFC | Basic | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Setina, Thomas Charles | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Thomason, John H. | Able | Private | Rifleman | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Warren, Frank | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Webster, George Davis | Headquarters | Captain | Bn-2 | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To HQ Company |
| Williams, Robert Leyshon | Able | Corporal | Demolitions | Wounded In Action | Grenade, fracture left arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Wood, Roy Irving Jr. | Able | First Lieutenant | Leader, 2 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right shoulder & chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Wynne, Robert Peter | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left arm & back | Evacuated, destination unknown |
