BATTLE NARRATIVE
With All They Had. Saipan: 8 July 1944
Surely it had to be almost over, thought the Marines of BLT 1-24 as they checked their weapons, choked down their instant coffee and K-ration biscuits, lit up the first cigarette of the day, and climbed out of the twenty-fourth line of foxholes they’d dug since landing on Saipan. Surely, there couldn’t be that many Japanese left on the godforsaken island. Surely, their high command would realize how battered and spent their battalion was. Surely, they would soon be relieved and sent to the rear. The less charitable muttered that the Army should be left to do the mopping up. But here they were, ordered to change directions to the west and assist with cutting off the remnants of the enemy still holed up along the coast near Tanapag. The left flank of the landing force, blunted by the banzai attack the day before, was advancing slowly. Lt. Col. Otto Lessing’s Marines would block the Japanese retreat: the anvil to the 2nd Marine Division’s hammer.
As PFC Edward Curylo put it, “we had to come across the mountain to push the Japs into the sea.”[1] This was easier said than done.
Reports from the 24th Marines and the 4th Marine Division mention only “moderate” resistance before inevitable success; the NTLF Headquarters opined that “generally, resistance in the 4th MarDiv zone was considered light.”[2] The recollections of the battalion’s veterans, however, tell a very different story – especially when backed up by photographs and casualty reports. In reality, BLT 1-24 experienced some of their toughest fighting when the battle was nearly at an end.
Orders to change direction and head west came as a “pre-dawn surprise” for 1Lt. Frederic A. Stott and the other company commanders of BLT 1-24.[3] Their objective for the day would be the beaches on Saipan’s west coast, designated Orange One and Orange Two in the pre-invasion planning. By this point in the battle, the rifle platoons were so reduced by casualties and illness that weapons platoon men had to fill in; mortarmen like PFC Norman M. Lucas left their 60mm weapon on a company vehicle and fought as riflemen for the day.[4]
Captain Irving Schechter‘s Able Company jumped off with the battalion’s assault at 0630.PFC Tommy Lynchard remembered getting on the move “at first light through thick, jungle-like terrain down the side of a mountain.” The underbrush was so dense that Lynchard almost missed a cave mouth just a few yards away. A small group of Japanese were clustered in the opening, apparently asleep. “We threw grenades and fired our weapons into their heads,” Lynchard said. “I was within twelve feet of four or five, laying sideways to me. I opened up with my BAR and sprayed them all. We moved out before the smoke cleared.” The firing alerted other Japanese in the area, but they had no desire to fight. As Lynchard’s platoon approached a clearing, they could see another group of enemy soldiers running up the bare slope of the next hill. “Our company held up at the base of the hill and fired at the running Japs,” he continued. “Fifteen or twenty altogether tried to escape. Some made it, too.” Schechter ordered his men to hold up; Lynchard gratefully tucked into a can of C-ration hash.[5]
Baker Company’s route led down a precipitous cave-infested cliff, and patrols went out to search for a manageable descent. First Lieutenant Joseph D. Swoyer led one such group down a twisting path – and directly into the sights of a Japanese sniper, who drilled a Marine through the head. Lanky Lieutenant Swoyer made a good target, but managed to scramble back to safety. He found the rest of his patrol yelling for a corpsman. “Never mind, it’s too late,” said the rattled officer. “He caught it right through the head and he’s gone.”
The men weren’t convinced. “There’s motion out there,” one piped up. Swoyer shook his head. “It’s no use. I checked him, and he’s dead.”
“Not yet,” came a voice from behind. It was “the supposed dead man as he emerged from the woods, his head bloody but under his own power.” An embarrassed Swoyer helped the wounded man to the aid station.[6]
The Japanese holdouts did not expect to survive their encounters with the Marines, and their determination caused casualties and consternation. The Americans, on the other hand, sensed the end of the battle was days away at most, and were loath to take unnecessary risks. PFC Ed Curylo remembered how single snipers delayed or even stopped Baker Company’s advance. “We were held up by one rifle with a flat sound,” he said.[7] “They tied themselves to a tree branch, then they fired away.” Curylo’s sergeant ordered six men to move out, one at a time. Curylo, the seventh, refused. “I’m not going out there alone.”
“You got to,” insisted the sergeant.
“Like hell I got to! Why don’t we send two, maybe confuse him a bit?”
Curylo and a buddy took off together. The sniper fired, missed, and gave away his position; Curylo’s friend brought him down. “One rifle holding up Company B – a hundred and some men,” remarked Curylo. “And it turns out to be a thirteen-year-old kid. I don’t know if he was killed, or if we captured him.”[8]
Similar dangers beset Charlie Company. PFC Wesley R. Clinton and his squad cleared out two caves and were working on a third when gunfire erupted. The squad leader came rushing out, one hand clamped around his bleeding arm. He’d caught a glimpse of the Japanese soldier scuttling deeper into the cave, possibly heading for a second exit. Clinton, a twenty-year-old Arkansan skilled with a rifle (his buddies called him “Sergeant York”), was sent down the trail in hopes of catching the fleeing enemy. Unfortunately, the Japanese soldier was well camouflaged. As Clinton stalked down the trail, a gunshot rang out and he fell dead with a bullet in his back.
Minor skirmishes such as these took place throughout the morning as the battalion picked its way across the summit of the mountain range and down the western side to the sea. Several caves and hideouts harbored Chamorros who were only too happy to see the Americans.
Stanley Troutman wore Marine dungarees, but he was no trained warrior. In civilian life he was a professional photographer for Acme Newspictures, covering homicides, film premieres, sporting events, and Hollywood celebrity scandals from Charlie Chaplain to Errol Flynn. The job was a dream come true, and even came with a draft exemption, but Troutman felt guilty about sitting out the war. In early 1944, Acme asked for volunteers to join the War Picture Pool and Troutman jumped at the chance. He received no military training and was not issued a weapon – just a set of green HBTs and a pair of leather boondockers.
Saipan was Troutman’s first assignment, and the transition was tough. “Being away from my wife and daughter was an adjustment,” he said. “I had to eat C-rations, which tasted like dog food. Adjusting to seeing death was the most difficult.” As a new man in the combat zone, Troutman spent most of his time photographing activities behind the lines.[11]
Fortunately, Troutman had a brilliant mentor in W. Eugene Smith. A self-taught professional, Smith was well-known to the editors of Newsweek and Life for his artistic photographs, meticulous attention to detail, and his prickly personality. He had already completed a few Pacific assignments for Ziff-Davis, and was on Saipan for Life Magazine. Smith was quite adventuresome, and frequently headed to the fighting or hopped aboard an airplane for aerial views of the fighting. On 7 July, he prevailed upon Troutman to join him on the front lines. They spent a mostly sleepless night with the 2nd Marines with “annoying movement by the Japs,” a near miss by friendly artillery, and “tracers over our head frequently through the night.” In the morning, the two photographers joined the advance to the sea.[12]
The 2nd Marines (attached to the 4th Marine Division for the day) ran into trouble as they descended towards the level ground. “Extremely heavy fire tore the dirt from our shoelaces and cracked and whined over our heads and into some of the Marines’ bodies,” Smith noted. “For over two hours we flattened against the dirt…. We did not even change to a more comfortable position.”[13] Troutman, under direct fire for the first time, thought the experience “something I’ll never forget…. One fellow behind me and one at my side was wounded, so I guess the good Lord was with me.”[14] Tanks finally lent some assistance and the riflemen advanced; the two photographers stretched their cramped limbs and set off in search of new subjects. The next unit in the line happened to be BLT 1-24, and Smith shot a few frames of Marines talking with their captives.
All images in this gallery are © 1944, 2014 The Heirs of W. Eugene Smith, and are published with express permission.
The calm was soon broken. “Jap snipers with rifles and machine guns fired on the group,” wrote Smith, “regardless of the fact that we had Japs with us, or maybe it was for that reason.”[15] The prisoners were hustled away to the rear, and BLT 1-24 quickly redeployed to continue their advance to the coast. Only a few obstacles stood in their way – a farmhouse, some scattered buildings, and a line of trees separating the beach from the fields. The sea was barely a hundred yards away.
They would have to fight like hell to get there.
“The afternoon was far different and costly."
Tommy Lynchard was still washing the taste of C-rations out of his mouth when his company was ordered forward. “We went in a skirmish line; the platoon on my left set fire to the house,” he recalled. “I was within sixty feet of the burning house when several Japs jumped out of an earth-covered cellar and began throwing hand grenades.” Lynch dropped to one knee and opened fire with his BAR; the Japanese troops jerked and fell backwards as his bullets hit home. The young Mississippian was pleased with his sharpshooting – until a grenade exploded right behind him.
I pushed myself with my hands and dragged my legs to reach my BAR. I didn't worry about my helmet. One or two [Japanese] were still trying to operate, but every time they moved I'd give them a burst of bullets.
Fighting coalesced around the farmhouse. “It was obvious a group of Japanese soldiers had decided to make a stand, and they had several riflemen and at least one machine gun,” said PFC John C. Pope. “They had an open field of fire and held us back for a while.” Pope took cover behind a pile of wood with another Marine who was “playing cowboy” with a helmet on the end of his rifle, trying to draw Japanese fire. The trick backfired. “A few minutes later we got word to get ready to rush the little house,” Pope continued. “[The other Marine] stood straight up and a bullet hit him in the chest. He collapsed and fell across me. I instinctively reached around him and put my hand over a hole in his chest. The blood was surprisingly warm and sticky. It was my first time to have a handful of blood.”[18]
In a cane field not far away, Charlie Company machine gunner PFC Glenn L. Buzzard watched the treeline suspiciously. “The Japs had that fortified,” he recalled. “It was about 20-30 feet of tree growth right down to the water’s edge.” Buzzard began the battle as an ammunition carrier; now he carried his squad’s .30-caliber Browning by a sling around his neck. He was just eighteen years old, but burly and strong enough to fire the machine gun from the hip without a tripod, using an asbestos mitt to keep from burning his hands. “It was a Mickey Mouse thing” – meaning improvised – “but it worked.” His eyes and weapon were fixed on a group of twenty people, apparently civilians, who were hovering right at the edge of the field. “They were women and children, and the men were holding up little babies,” he remembered. “The interpreter was trying to talk to them…. ‘Take it off,’ that’s one of the Japanese phrases they taught us. You had to get them undressed because the men would have grenades stuck under their clothes, and as soon as they got a chance, they would throw it at you.”[19]
The field was dotted with bundles of sugarcane cut and ready for harvest. A sudden shot rang out from one of the piles; The Saint stumbled and sagged to the ground. Seconds later, Buller dropped with a bullet through his face. “There were men underneath,” said Buzzard. “They killed Santilli, and they killed Sergeant Buller. They were shot within seconds of each other.” A cold, murderous rage descended on Glenn Buzzard, and he turned his weapon on the fleeing crowd of civilians. “Neutralized them, let’s say.”[22] Sergeant Miller M. Blue quickly assumed command of the platoon.[23]
A brutal, short-range slugfest quickly developed. “At close range, they opened up with all they had,” said Lieutenant Stott, “stopped half the battalion short of the sea, and inflicted heavy casualties.”[24] As acting company commander, Stott ordered Charlie to assault across the cane field and into the trees. Corporal Joseph G. Jecture, Jr. led his squad into the undergrowth, shooting up every bush and bramble that might conceal an enemy soldier. He doubled back on one particular shrub and “heard an unearthly yell… a Japanese soldier who had pulled the pin from a grenade and, hugging the bomb to his chest, blew himself to eternity.” Pieces of the missile struck Jecture above the eye and on the cheek; he took off for the aid station, but was careful to hold on to his souvenir samurai sword.[25]
Photographers Smith and Troutman hurried over to the farmhouse, shutters clicking, taking mental notes for later captions.
Fighting for the farmhouse, as seen through the lens of Eugene Smith's camera.
All images in this gallery are © 1944, 2014 The Heirs of W. Eugene Smith, and are published with express permission.
Able Company forced its way into the trees and set about clearing the Japanese fortifications one by one. Corporal Kenneth R. Gray, a former prison guard from Massachusetts, led a demolitions squad against a troublesome stronghold until a bullet punched through his thigh. Nauseated and faint from pain, Gray kept issuing directions and “contributed essentially to the crushing of fanatic Japanese resistance” before passing out.[27] Popular PFC DeWitt L. Dietrich, Jr. carried out a similar assault, “engaging the Japanese in close combat… annihilating many hostile troops.”[28] “Dee,” who observed his nineteenth birthday on 15 June 1944, disappeared during the attack; his body was found three days later with bullet holes in his back. PFC Jack C. Comer was all but obliterated – “nothing was left of him except a scalp with some black hair still on it,” said one of his comrades from the machine gun platoon.[29] Finally, PFC Lester C. Kincaid reached the beach with a radio and contacted the company mortars. Although shot in the chest, he managed to direct a barrage onto the Japanese trenches, “resulting in the rout of the enemy and the attainment of the objective.”[30] Kincaid survived his wounds, and later received the Silver Star Medal.
“We attacked a stretch of woods along a western beach – a hail of fire came from same, killing a large number of guys to say nothing of wounded,” wrote Lieutenant Swoyer of Baker Company. “After sweating it out for a while, we got up to mop up the woods. Three times I went into the woods, and three times nobody followed me but [his runner, PFC Bernard] Novak – I was afraid to take my eyes off the enemy, and yet I had to get the guys to come, too. The third time, I turned to curse my men [and] a Jap jumped out of a hole, whipped back his arm to throw a grenade, but Novak shot him through the heart. The grenade went off in his hand.”[31] Swoyer’s platoon finally broke through to the beach, where Corporal Robert E. Newbury spotted some wounded Marines lying in the open. “Huck” Newbury, already known for his “technical skill and inspiring conduct” over the course of the battle, went out alone to see if he could help. “He paused to see about a wounded friend,” recalled John Pope. “He dropped to his knees, leaned over, and in a matter of seconds he was dead from a sniper bullet. He was lying across his friend’s body when he died.”[32] Newbury would also receive the Silver Star Medal for his “self-sacrificing spirit and unwavering devotion.”[33]
Views of the bitter fighting on Saipan. All photographs are dated 8 July 1944.
Finally, the firing died down a bit. Smith snapped a few more images of Marines moving through the smoke-shrouded ruins of the farmhouse, taking shots into wells or holes in the ground, or standing silently by the bodies of dead friends. A Baker Company squad ambled by; one man reached for his canteen and caught the photographer’s attention. Stripped down for combat the way only a veteran could, the Marine still carried a carbine, a .45 caliber pistol, and a long Japanese sword tucked under his arm. His face was striking; sweaty, grimy, unnaturally thin and with piercing blue eyes.
Troutman and Smith knew a good shot when they saw one, and both whipped out their cameras. Troutman caught the Marine in a three-quarters shot, while Smith snapped one directly in profile. The Marine, probably perplexed at the sudden attention, stopped and glared over his shoulder at the photographers. Troutman scribbled Marine drinking water from his canteen in his notepad, and either he or Smith approached the exhausted warrior to ask his name and hometown.[36]
“4th Division Marine PFC T. E. Underwood (24th Bat.) of St. Petersburg Florida,” recorded Smith. “A Portrait of a weary warrior who has been through one of the toughest days of his life. And still at the moment the picture was taken was under fire.”[37]
“It was funny about that,” Ellis later wrote of the picture that would make him famous. “I never had any idea it would get home. I just bent down to take a drink and my picture was taken. The fellow asked me my name and home address. Heavy fighting was going on where the picture was taken.”[38]
Thomas Ellis Underwood, B/1/24th Marines. Photographs by Stanley Troutman and W. Eugene Smith.
For a detailed analysis of these photographs, read The Weary Warrior.
Finally BLT 1-24 broke through to the beach, stepping over the prostrate bodies of their fallen enemies, even as occasional gunshots or suicide grenade blasts reverberated through the undergrowth. The final hundred-yard push had been one of the hardest of the entire campaign. “The tenacity with which they defended these last positions gave a clear indication of why the western coastal advance had temporarily bogged down,” reflected Lieutenant Stott. “Ours was a comparatively small area, and with the aid of rapid firing tanks, the remainder of the battalion sector was cleared out. But it was very depressing to have suffered so heavily at a time when we thought the organized opposition practically ended.”[39]
Eugene Smith still had a few exposures left. Seeing one Marine gazing out to sea, he snapped a beautiful silhouette shot. “And the Marines did crash through to the beach as the sun dropped into the ocean on the western side of the island,” he wrote. “And hundreds of dead Japs were given a farewell spotlight by the last rays of the sun.”[40]
All images in this gallery are © 1944, 2014 The Heirs of W. Eugene Smith, and are published with express permission.
The Word spread down through the ranks like wildfire. Someone had it on good authority from one of the Navajo code talkers that the island was secure. The exhausted Marines mustered as much enthusiasm as they could for the news; after all, rumors were rife. Early in the battle, most Marines firmly believed that Russia had declared war on Japan; later, some told tales that Amelia Earhart’s belongings had been found in a jail in Garapan.[41] Yet this one seemed true. The battalion had reached almost the very northern end of the island; this last attack must have been the final pocket. The battle must be over.
PFC Robert E. Tierney had just begun to process this information when he was shot. A sniper’s bullet tore into his back, passed through his ribs, and shattered his left arm. The company’s reaction was swift and terrible for the lone Japanese gunman, swift and fortunate for the badly wounded boy from Birnamwood.
“My left arm was taped to a board,” Tierney continued. “During my 25 days on the island, I lost over 30 pounds. There were about 1200 wounded Marines on board the ship. The next morning [July 9] I heard the bugler playing taps. A nurse informed me that 10 Marines had died overnight and the ceremony on deck was for burials at sea. My surgery was scheduled for 0200 the following morning. Up to that time the doctors had been operating for 72 hours with just short breaks.”
Bob Tierney was on the long trip home – and it began with a coincidence; the doctor operating on his arm was a family friend from back in Wisconsin. At New Caledonia, he received his Purple Heart medal from Bob Hope himself; luckily a camera was on hand to capture “a whole roll of film of [actress Carol Landis] and various friends.” The Japanese bullet cost Tierney nearly four inches of bone from his left arm; a botched operation and administrative red tape would harry him for years. He did not return to “the mainstream” until August 1950 – seven years and five months after enlisting.[42]
That night, BLT 1-24 bivouacked on the battlefield. The end of the campaign was indeed nigh – but there would be one final drama in the fight for Saipan. For those who were there, the events at Marpi Point on 9 July 1944 would dominate their stories and haunt their memories for the remainder of their lives.
[1] 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.
[2] Northern Troops Landing Force Mailbrief 00187-3, 8 July 1944.
[3] Frederic A. Stott, “Saipan Under Fire” (Andover: Frederic Stott, 1945), 18.
[4] Norman M. Lucas Collection (AFC/2001/001/30436), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[5] Tommy Lynchard, unpublished personal papers. Author’s collection.
[6] Stott, 19. While not known for certain, the wounded man was very likely Private Marwood B. Smith, who had only joined Baker Company the previous week. Smith, who suffered a gunshot wound in the head on 8 July 1944, was evacuated for treatment and at first appeared to make a good recovery. Unfortunately, he developed a cerebral abscess while hospitalized in Noumea, and died on 11 August 1944. This incident, while not among Swoyer’s best moments, evidently did little to sour his reputation; he received two Bronze Stars and two Purple Hearts, and ended the war as the commanding officer of Baker Company.
[7] The distinctive sound of the Japanese Arisaka rifle was unusually hard to pinpoint.
[8] Curylo interview.
[9] Stott, 19.
[10] “Action Report: First Battalion, 24th Marines Record of Events, 15 June – 9 July 1944″ (24 August 1944). Hereafter BLT 1-24 Report.
[11] Stanley Troutman, interview with the author, 2014. Troutman was assigned first to the Navy, where correspondents carried rank equivalent to a Lieutenant Commander. He followed the Marines into action on Saipan, Tinian, Guam, and Peleliu.
[12] W. Eugene Smith, “Captions: Saipan – Final Days of Invasion,” July 1944. Reproduced by W. Eugene Smith Archive, Center for Creative Photography University of Arizona, Tucson, 2014.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Stanley Troutman, personal letter dated 11 July 1944. Courtesy Gayle Rindge.
[15] Smith, “Captions: Saipan”
[16] Stott, 19.
[17] Lynchard papers.
[18] John C. Pope, Angel On My Shoulder, Kindle eBook. Pope identifies the other Marine as “Bowman”; PFC Harold A. Bowman served with C/1/24th Marines, but there is no indication that he was wounded on Saipan. (Bowman did suffer two wounds – including a shot through the chest – in later battles.)
[19] Glenn Buzzard in Gail Chatfield, By Dammit, We’re Marines! (San Diego: Methvin Publishing, 2008), 63.
[20] Jack Cuddy, “Alex Santilli, Who Wouldn’t Stay ‘Benched,’ Is Killed At Saipan,” The Republican and Herald (Pottsville, PA) 18 August 1944.
[21] Chatfield, 63. Buzzard lied about his age to enlist at the age of sixteen; his physical stature helped pull off the ruse.
[22] Ibid.
[23] This was the second time Sergeant Blue took charge of a leaderless platoon; he received the Silver Star Medal for his actions.
[24] Stott,19.
[25] “Marine Corporal Brings Back to Naugatuck Tale of Battles With The Japs.” Naugatuck Daily News, December 29, 1944. Jecture picked up the sword during a banzai attack; his hometown newspaper rather breathlessly described the souvenir as “a beautiful Japanese officer’s sword that on the west coast has a standardized value of $300. The sword has a two-handed grip and is razor sharp.”
[26] Smith, “Captions: Saipan”
[27] Kenneth Russell Gray., Official Military Personnel File (OMPF), Records of the Office of the Quartermaster General, Washington National Records Center, Suitland, MD.
[28] “Colwyn Parents Awarded Medal,” The Delaware County Times 2 July 1945.
[29] Wallace Duncan, interview with the author, 2009. Duncan stated that Comer was hit by an artillery shell, however Duncan had been wounded and evacuated two days prior. Official cause of death was “bullet wounds.” Comer was listed as “remains not recovered” for some time before identification could be made by Graves Registration.
[30] Lester C. Kincaid, citation for Silver Star Medal, Headquarters USMC. Available online
[31] Joseph D. Swoyer, personal letter to Joseph & Alice Swoyer, 1 May 1945. Collection of Andy Swoyer.
[32] Pope, Angel On My Shoulder.
[33] Robert E. Newbury. citation for Silver Star Medal, Headquarters USMC. Available online
[34] “Local Saipan Hero Arrives In Phila., Jack Gale Tells Hair-Raising Story,” The Greenbelt Cooperator (Greenbelt, MD) 8 September 1944. Gale had previously escaped serious injury when an anti-tank shell detonated at Camp Pendleton, and made a full recovery. Unfortunately, the remnants of his arm turned gangrenous and were later amputated.
[35] Lieutenant Baker received the Silver Star Medal for gallantry on 8 July 1944. He refused evacuation and served in the sick bay until laid low by disease at the very end of the month.
[36] Troutman 2014 interview. “Eugene and I would have personally talked to the Marine to get his name, rank, and hometown,” clarified Troutman. Photographers went to great lengths to ensure accuracy in identifying individuals whenever possible—it made for good copy for the newspapers, and was a mark of their journalistic integrity. In civilian life, a botched caption could cost a photographer his job.
[37] Smith, “Captions: Saipan”
[38] “Marines Doing Quick Job Routing Japs In Pacific, But Pause For Souvenirs,” The St. Petersburg Times, 17 September 1944.
[39] Stott, 19.
[40] Smith, “Captions: Saipan”
[41] Stott related the Russia rumor (“Saipan Under Fire,” 4.) The Earhart story has captivated audiences since the battle, and may have a grain of truth behind it. Bob Williams recalled hearing the rumors himself: “Scuttlebutt, rumors get to flying. I don’t know where it started, but there was a little town called Garapan north of where we landed. Rumors came through that a white woman was found in Garapan. The next thing you know, the rumor says ‘Amelia Earhart.’ You’ve heard all kinds of rumors about her. Something must have started it, they must have found someone. It’s just one of those weird things.”
[42] Robert E. Tierney, “My Marine Corps Experience,” unpublished memoir dated 10 January 2013.
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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Baker, William Jessamin | Headquarters | Lieutenant (j.g.) | Assistant Surgeon | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, leg | Not evacuated |
| Bartels, Ronald Paul | Able | PFC | Mortarman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Able Company |
| Brewer, Dawson James | Charlie | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Buller, William Warren | Charlie | Sergeant | MG Platoon NCO | Killed In Action | Gunshot, face | Removed for burial |
| Burns, Elmo Arthur | Charlie | Platoon Sergeant | 1 Platoon NCO | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Charlie Company |
| Burton, Charles Filmore | Charlie | PFC | Messenger | Killed In Action | Gunshot, chest | Removed for burial |
| Ciecierski, Frank Walter | Charlie | Corporal | MG Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Clinton, Wesley Reginald | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, back | Removed for burial |
| Comer, Jack Calvin | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Killed In Action | Gunshot wounds | Removed for burial |
| Comer, William Walter Jr. | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right leg & groin | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Conway, Norman Lester | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Cusimano, Michael Salvatore | Charlie | PFC | Machine Gunner | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Czerweic, Charles Peter | Charlie | Sergeant | MG Section Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Davis, Ray Henry Jr. | Headquarters | PFC | Scout | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Dearing, John Henry | Headquarters | Sergeant | Intelligence NCO | Wounded In Action | Amputation, right arm & leg | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Dietrich, DeWitt Landre Jr. | Able | PFC | BARman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, back | Removed for burial |
| Estergall, Albert James | Baker | Sergeant | Guide, 2 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Fagan, Philip Edwin | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Fields, James Clay | Able | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, chest | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Fitzgerald, Paul Clifford | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Freeman, James Walter | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, both legs | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Gale, John Carl Jr. | Headquarters | PFC | Scout | Wounded In Action | Amputation, left arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gaminde, Pedro Jr. | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gilboy, John Arthur | Baker | Private | Rifleman | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gonsowski, Vincent Frank | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gray, Kenneth Russell | Able | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left thigh | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Harris, Robert Nelson | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Hicks, James Robert | Headquarters | Corporal | Intelligence NCO | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, body & limbs | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Holden, John William | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot wounds | Removed for burial |
| Jecture, Joseph Gabriel Jr. | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Grenade shrapnel, face | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Jiracek, Emil George Jr. | Charlie | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Johnson, Tom Lawrence | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left foot | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Jones, Junior Erving | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right leg | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Jordan, Hayword Louie | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Kincaid, Lester Clarkson | Able | Corporal | Ammo NCO | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Klauss, Vermoine Vertelle | Headquarters | PhM2c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Klohs, Edwin Earnest | Headquarters | Corporal | Operations Clerk | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Leonard, Walter William | Headquarters | HA1c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Loughrey, John Joseph | Charlie | Second Lieutenant | Leader, 1 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Loutzenhiser, William Paul | Able | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Luckage, Michael Richard | Headquarters | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Lynchard, Tommy | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Marshall, Glenn | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| McBride, Parker Samuel | Able | Platoon Sergeant | 2 Platoon NCO | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right hand & thigh | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Moore, J. S. | Baker | PFC | BARman | Killed In Action | Multiple wounds | Removed for burial |
| Neiderlander, Edward Joseph | Headquarters | Corporal | Clerk | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Newbury, Robert Edward | Baker | Corporal | Squad Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot wounds | Removed for burial |
| Pappas, Gust Alexander | Able | PFC | BARman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Able Company |
| Pentland, Jack Douglas | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left ankle | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Pounders, Robert Floyd Jr | Baker | PFC | BARman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Baker Company |
| Queen, Charles Edwin | Baker | Private | Ammo Carrier | Killed In Action | Gunshot, back | Removed for burial |
| Quinn, William Joseph | Able | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left thigh | Evacuated to USS Relief |
| Reeves, Robert Wayde | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Reilly, John James | Headquarters | PFC | Mortarman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To HQ Company |
| Rogers, James George | Baker | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, chest | Removed for burial |
| Sander, Stanley | Charlie | Corporal | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, upper left arm | Not evacuated |
| Santilli, Alexander | Charlie | First Lieutenant | Leader, MG Platoon | Killed In Action | Gunshot wounds | Removed for burial |
| Sayers, Jack Tarleton | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Seitz, Robert Fred | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sempert, William Edward | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sheptock, Stephen | Charlie | Sergeant | Guide, 1 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sherrill, Robert Eugene | Headquarters | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| Smith, Marwood Baldwin | Baker | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action (Fatal) | Gunshot, head | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Stevens, Joseph | Able | First Lieutenant | Leader, MG Platoon | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left forearm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Stringer, Charlie Lemmons | Charlie | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Sullivan, LaVerne Elliott | Baker | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left thigh | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Thomas, Keith William | Able | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left hand | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Tierney, Robert Edward | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Valley, Phillip Jr. | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Wallace, Jesse Calvin | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (serious) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Weber, Carl | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoulder & chest | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Whitehead, Morris Sexton | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, face & neck | Evacuated, destination unknown |
