BATTLE NARRATIVE
Hold What You Can. Saipan: 18 June 1944
The sun rose over Magicienne Bay, glinting off the blue Pacific water, warming men soaked by the nightly rain, drying out foxholes and turning muddy roads to dust. It foretold another scorching, uncomfortable day in the cane fields, in humidity unlike anything experienced in training. “That hot, muggy, humid, sticky, stinky weather!” complained Sergeant Mike Mervosh. “The weather sometimes took more of a toll on you than anything else, walking in that hot sun. It was tough.”[1] Daylight meant that supplies could finally reach the men atop the cliff, where food, ammunition, and fresh water were eagerly awaited. Water was at a premium, and strict rationing was implemented: one canteen per man, per day.
At BLT 1-24 headquarters at the base of the cliff, 1Lt. Frederic A. Stott assessed the battle’s progress. From incoming reports, he gathered that the Army’s 27th Infantry Division was ashore and assigned to the final capture of Aslito Airfield and points south. “As yet we had not glimpsed any of these reinforcements,” he wrote, “but it was heartening to hear of their presence.” He was more concerned with his own battalion’s situation. “D-plus-three morning showed our strength further depleted and we were unrestored physically,” he noted.[2] More than 180 men were dead or incapacitated – almost twenty percent of those who landed just two days before. The only silver lining was a message from Colonel Franklin Hart directing Lt. Col. Austin R. Brunelli to officially take command of BLT 1-24.[3] Brunelli had proved his worth the previous day, and the battalion would benefit from his leadership in the days ahead.
With the Army now responsible for the southern portion of Saipan, the two Marine divisions could begin a gradual pivot to the north with the intention of cutting the island in half. The ultimate plan for a northward advance envisioned an unbroken line of Marines running laterally from coast to coast, sweeping all resistance before them until they reached Marpi Point at the very northern tip of Saipan. However, there was still a mile of Japanese-occupied ground between the Marines and Magicienne Bay, and the day’s attack order called for the conquering of that territory.
BLT 1-24 used their morning to move the battalion command post to the top of the cliff and send out small patrols to scout the area ahead. These men reported three or four large Japanese pillboxes and what appeared to be a complex of strong points a few hundred yards beyond the cane fields. One Able Company patrol led by Corporal Vernon D. Rigdon got into a firefight nearly 500 yards ahead of friendly units; Rigdon’s men killed twelve Japanese riflemen and returned to friendly lines with an astonishing 28 prisoners of war.[4]
Those not assigned to patrol duty were “plagued” by all manner of harassing Japanese fire, ranging from mortars and machine guns to the dreaded airbursts from 40mm antiaircraft guns. The latter weapons, firing from distant Nafutan Point, were well out of retaliatory range and it was doubly disconcerting to duck incoming fire from the rear.[5] PFC Chester L. McCoy was watching Japanese soldiers running in and out of a cane field a few hundred yards ahead of him when the barrage started. Shells exploded overhead, “the same as a grenade going off in the ground, but in the air.” The best protection against airbursts was to stand up – lying prone made one a bigger target for shrapnel directly above – so McCoy wedged himself up against a brick outhouse. Five pieces of shrapnel drove into his hip. “That was the last of me on the island. I was knocked out temporarily – a corpsman got to me, put me on a stretcher and carried me back to the CP, where I stayed until they could take me to the beach.”[6]
On his way to the aid station, McCoy might have seen a trio of strangers approaching the command post. A Marine officer – 2Lt. Jim G. Lucas of the PR section – led the way for correspondents Frank Kelley and Robert Sherrod. Sherrod, whose reporting on the battle of Tarawa made national news (and a best-selling book) came ashore with the 6th Marines and was making a tour of other sectors. Here, “on the last hillside but one until the island was crossed,” he pulled out his notebook and jotted down his impressions.
While the line companies scouted objectives and HQ talked to the reporters, Lieutenant Stott was preparing for his second day as an armor liaison. The Marine medium tanks were needed elsewhere, but the Army LVTAs were still positioned on the flatland, flinging shells at the airfield. At around 1000, the 165th Infantry overran Aslito Airfield and the tankers turned their attention to the cliff, shooting up targets pointed out by Marine units still making the climb.[8]
Stott used his officer’s prerogative to commandeer a gunner’s position “for diversion… and managed to sandwich in some enjoyable machine gun firing.” His confidence and bravado nearly got the best of him.
“Move out and take objectives."
The Japanese forces in the area may have put up “sporadic” resistance overall, but in some areas the fighting grew quite fierce. On the left of the BLT 1-24 sector, Baker Company hit a hot spot of sniper fire; within five minutes they were calling for tank support. The LVTAs were getting good at cane field fighting, and with their assistance the threat was neutralized. As the pivoting maneuver neared completion, LtCol. Brunelli set his objectives for a general advance. He ordered “B Co. mission for tonight left flank on RJ [Road Junction] 288,” – Target Area 145S on the tactical map – with the rest of his companies extending to the coastline.
A combined tank-infantry attack jumped off at 1530 hours and almost immediately ran into trouble. Heavy mortar fire from the south – behind Marine lines – started raining down, pinning Able Company in an open field for nearly half an hour.[13] The long-range fire was inaccurate and casualties were light, but the exhausted Marines were finding it harder and harder to keep moving. “We didn’t sleep for three days and nights,” commented PFC Tommy Lynchard of Able Company. “We were so tired. Once I fell asleep while being pinned down in a sugarcane field by machine gun fire, cane falling all around me.”[14] A stern order from Lt. Col. Brunelli – “All companies move out and take objectives” – got the men moving, but did not stop the mortars.. Several concentrations fell on BLT 1-24 in the first hour of the attack, culminating in the destruction of a hospital jeep and a crew of stretcher bearers at 1630.[15]
For Mike Mervosh, the uncertainty of harassing fire was more troubling than a constant rain of shells.
“Hold what you can, where you can."
The Japanese, it seemed, were waiting for such an opportunity.
Tsutsuuran, according to the best intelligence available, was occupied by elements of four Japanese infantry companies – reserve units of the 47th Independent Mixed Brigade – and three companies of the 9th Tank Regiment. Colonel Takashi Goto’s men sacrificed many lives and 31 of their 44 tanks in a fierce but ultimately futile attack on the 2nd Marine Division on D+1. It was the first time massed Japanese tanks squared off against Marine infantry and artillery, and instead of scoring a breakthrough, Goto received a thorough defeat. The survivors returned to Tsutsuuran, licked their wounds and wait for another chance to strike.
The 9th Tank Regiment was equipped with a mixture of light (Type 95 Ha-Go) and medium (Type 97 Chi-Ha) tanks. While neither was a head-on match for an American M4, both models could be dangerous to LVTAs, and deadly to unsupported infantry. Neither BLT 1-24 nor BLT 2-24 carried anti-tank weapons more powerful than a bazooka, and the men who carried these portable rocket launchers had more experience shooting at fortifications than vehicles. They were terribly vulnerable without armor support, and the Japanese tank-infantry counterattack – whether launched by design or by chance – hit them at the worst possible time.
BLT 1-24 first received reports of enemy tanks coming up a beach road in Target Area 146M. There was an immediate scramble for cover. PFC Tommy Lynchard said the Japanese tanks “roared about in mad circles” and admitted, “I was plenty scared.”[18] Japanese machine guns deployed in buildings raked Baker Company’s line, causing numerous casualties. Captain Milton Cokin radioed for artillery support at 1717 hours; two minutes later, the Japanese broke through his company. Brunelli was quick to respond. “Draw back and reorganize when you can,” he ordered at 1721. “Tanks and halftracks being sent up as fast as possible.” Seven minutes later: “Reestablish front line and hold what you can, where you can.”[19] The Regimental Weapons Company was alerted to the threat but needed some time to respond. For now, the infantrymen were on their own. While the Japanese infantry came in close, the tanks held position about 350 yards – the very edge of effective bazooka range – and sprayed the Marines with machine gun and cannon fire.[20]
The LVTAs were also in serious trouble, as a hidden anti-tank gun started picking them off with unnerving accuracy. Lieutenant Stott, still in his gunner’s position, had his second narrow escape from death.
It was Stott’s last ride in a tank for the rest of the battle. He would later receive the Navy Cross for his service as a liaison officer on 17-18 June.
A trio of knocked-out LVTA-4 amphibious tanks, Saipan.
1717: “B” Co requests heavy artillery fire on 152B. [Road Junction 289, Tsutsuuran]
1719: “B” Co line broken, fell back; machine guns set up in house – heavy casualties.
1728: Reestablish front line and hold what you can (“B” Co) where you can.
1735: B Co requests artillery 124I. [Far to the rear; maps indicate Japanese artillery emplacements here]
1737: B Co ordered to move forward and gain contact with G Co. Engineers will assist [with] 2 platoons. Wide gap between B and G Cos.
1738: B Co reports only 40 men left.[22]
Charlie Company was hit, too. Corporal Horace F. Allen, Jr., a flamethrower operator, saw PFC Robert G. Thompson fall wounded just before something blew up in his face, burning him around the eyes. “Thompson got hit, and we had to fall back,” he recalled. “I don’t know that anybody got to him – I was just about blind by that point, anyway.”[24] Sergeant Mike Mervosh recalled having to “hit the deck to avoid being shot” and the bravery of the infantrymen who tried to take on the tanks with grenades and satchel charges.[25] American artillery finally got the range on the enemy armor; the heavy shells, aided by the determined fire of the bazookamen, finally chased the tanks away.[26]
An unknown number of Japanese infantry managed to exploit the break in the line and fell upon the vulnerable support units. The 81mm mortar platoon suddenly found itself under rifle fire from a nearby cane field. With both platoon officers gone, the men were temporarily leaderless.[27] The NCO in charge went to pieces when faced by this new crisis. PFC John C. Pope was shocked to see the sergeant “crouched down against a tree stump with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms locked around his legs. Tears were running down his cheeks and he was trembling as he mumbled something about being killed.” Pope’s surprise quickly turned to disgust. “I felt like shooting the son-of-a-bitch. The way things were going, it looked real bad for us. We might be overrun and slaughtered.”
Sergeant Woodrow Barfield, a section leader, took charge. The normally soft-spoken Southerner “started to shout orders in a voice none of us had ever heard from him before,” recalled Pope. “Instantly, every man responded, and we were a bunch of fighting Marines.” Mortarmen picked up their carbines, and the security force opened fire with their heavy machine guns. Charging Japanese soldiers fell in heaps; the survivors melted back into the cane field, leaving the dead and wounded behind. PFC William H. Skeens, an ammo carrier from Bloomingdale, New Jersey, jumped out of his gun pit to give chase and accounted for several adversaries with his quick-firing carbine. John Pope, PFC Robert Sherrill, and a handful of others followed Skeens across the open ground and stood side by side shooting into the cane field.
One of the Japanese soldiers was feigning death. He jumped to his feet and fired a single shot, knocking Billy Skeens to the ground. Pope and Sherrill riddled the man, then turned to their buddy. Skeens was stone dead; the Japanese bullet had pierced his heart. The survivors vengefully set the cane field on fire and carried the fallen Marine back to the command post.[28] The headquarters personnel of another battalion were streaming rearward, and those of BLT 1-24 – including the mortar platoon – followed suit. Night was falling when they reached a more defensible position some 300 yards to the rear, forming a “combined two-battalion command post which had no true or clear picture of the front, and which itself had little organization until well after dark.”[29]
Dozens of wounded men were cut off from a fully equipped aid station. Pharmacist’s Mate Second Class Francis B. Munski, the 81mm platoon corpsman, applied his “extreme ingenuity” to the situation and set up a one-man triage area. Munski, a former rancher from Montana, had previously distinguished himself by caring for seriously wounded Marines after the battle of Namur. Working alone and on his own initiative, Munski treated dozens of casualties and prepared them for evacuation, little caring whether they belonged to his battalion or not.[30] He would later receive the Legion of Merit for his endeavors.
At the end of the day, the companies of BLT 1-24 were tied in together but there were troubling gaps on both flanks. If the Japanese decided to mount another strong counterattack, these could be easily exploited – and the battalion turned back in a rout. American artillery heavily shelled the Japanese-held area; this, plus losses inflicted during the day, prevented any coordinated attack against BLT 1-24. As always, though, individual incidents caused moments of terror throughout the night.
John Pope had two problems on his mind. The constant action of the last few days wore down the notoriously fragile firing pin in his M1917 machine gun; it finally broke, and Pope was out of action until it could be replaced. Fortunately, he carried several spares in his pocket for just such an occasion, and “spent countless boring training hours practicing how to change one in a matter of seconds, even while blindfolded.” Pope pulled the bolt and held it carefully aloft – any dirt might cause a jam – while he shook out the broken firing pin and reached for a new one.
As he worked, Pope kept half an eye on his other concern – his new foxhole buddy, Bobby Sherrill. The two Marines knew each other well after eighteen months in the same unit, but had never spent the night in the same defensive position. A foxhole buddy was more than a friend – he was the guy your life depended on, who you trusted implicitly to watch your back no matter what. Sherrill and Billy Skeens were foxhole buddies, but Skeens was now dead. Pope’s buddy was also out of action aboard a hospital ship somewhere.
Now the two were paired up: Pope behind the Browning, and Sherrill on guard with a shotgun. Each was watching the other carefully, gauging reactions, determining levels of trust.
Pope was just about to insert the new firing pin when a Japanese soldier materialized just a few feet in front of the gun. “He had a wild, scary look and murder on his mind,” said Pope. “Since I was behind the gun, I was his target.” The Japanese soldier brandished a bayonetted rifle and screamed “Banzai!” Pope stood up, tripped, and fell over on his back. “For a second I thought I was going to have a bayonet through my chest, so I doubled up my knees to protect myself.” Even in this reflex action, Pope held the bolt and firing pin out of the dirt. A thought flashed through his mind: Bobby, pay attention!
I remember yelling at Bobby, “What took you so long?” If that man had decided to pull the trigger instead of using the bayonet on me, I would not be alive now.[31]
“We were an exhausted battalion, far under strength, and temporarily incapable of accomplishing impressive results,” noted Fred Stott in a glum assessment of D-plus-3. “Our exertions had worn us out, and time and rest were needed for the creation of a new reservoir of reserve strength. Our ‘first wind’ was gone, and the adjustment had not been made for the continuation of the attack, either physically or mentally.”[32]
The next day would bring some badly needed relief.
[1] Mike Mervosh, oral history interview conducted by The National World War II Museum, “Oral History Part 1,” March 19, 2008.
[2] Frederic A. Stott, “Saipan Under Fire” (Andover: Frederic Stott, 1945), 7.
[3] Carl W. Hoffman, Saipan: The Beginning of the End (Washington: Historical Division, US Marine Corps, 1950), 96.
[4] “Ar-La-Tex Men With The Colors,” The Shreveport Times (Shreveport, LA), 18 April 1945. Rigdon was decorated with a Bronze Star for this patrol. Interestingly, while the citation specifies the number of prisoners, no mention of POWs was made in the battalion’s diary.
[5] Henry I. Shaw, Bernard C. Nalty, and Edwin T. Turnbladh, History of U. S. Marine Corps Operations in World War II, Vol. III: Central Pacific Drive (Historical Branch: G-3 Division, Headquarters, USMC, 1966), 290.
[6] Chester L. McCoy, oral history interview conducted by Charles Lanier, Chester L. McCoy Collection (AFC/2001/001/87486), Veterans History Project, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.
[7] Robert Sherrod, On To Westward: War in the Central Pacific (New York: Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1945), 71. Lucas was well familiar with BLT 1-24, having spent time with them on the voyage to Saipan. Presumably, this visit was when he learned of the death of Sergeant Frank A. Tucker and gathered the information for his article about Tucker’s death. Lucas’ casualty report is probably based on information available to the battalion at the time.
[8] Stott is not specific about where the tanks were, saying only “we furnished heavy fire support on the cliff while units of infantry advanced along the sugar cane covered field on top.” (“Saipan Under Fire,” 7). They were probably working with BLT 1-25, which had the unenviable task of neutralizing bypassed Japanese positions at the southern end of the cliff.
[9] Stott, 6.
[10] “Action Report: First Battalion, 24th Marines Record of Events, 15 June – 9 July 1944″ (24 August 1944). Hereafter BLT 1-24 Report.
[11] Hoffman, 102.
[12] Stott, 7.
[13] The Battalion War Diary thought this mortar fire originated at Nafutan Point, the very southern tip of Saipan.
[14] Tommy Lynchard, unpublished personal papers. Author’s collection.
[15] BLT 1-24 Report.
[16] Gregg Stoner, Hardcore Iron Mike, Conqueror of Iwo Jima (Bloomington: iUniverse, 2015), 44.
[17] 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.
[18] Lynchard papers. This number is a very high estimate; it is doubtful the Japanese had 29 operational tanks left on Saipan by this time.
[19] BLT 1-24 Report.
[20] Hoffman, 102.
[21] Stott, 8.
[22] BLT 1-24 Report.
[23] “Doc” Marquez was recommended for the Bronze Star; he received the Navy and Marine Corps Medal instead.
[24] Horace Allen, interview with the author, 7 August 2015. Allen was positive that Thompson was hit on D+3, as this was Allen’s last day with the company. However, Thompson is not recorded as “missing in action” until 25 June, a full week later. Keeping track of casualties during heavy combat was extremely difficult, and there are numerous instances of clerks playing “catch up” in quiet periods, which results in conflicting information. Officially, Thompson’s MIA date is 25 June.
[25] Stoner, 45. Of battling tanks on Saipan, Mervosh states: “Two of my best men died while trying to take out an enemy tank that had broken through. Sergeant Albert T. Burnowsi and Corporal Eugene T. Gladkowski approached the enemy tank and used hand grenades and a satchel charge to blow the tracks off the tank. The explosion stopped the tank where it sat. The loss of those two great Marines made my men and me become all the harder with their deaths.” The accuracy of this memory is questionable: Gladkowski, a mortarman, died on Iwo Jima; there is no “Sergeant Albert Burnowsi” or any similar name on unit muster rolls.
[26] Hoffman, 102.
[27] The senior platoon leader, 1Lt. Waldo C. Lincoln was wounded in action on 17 June. 1Lt. James R. Donovan, the assistant platoon leader, suffered mortal wounds on 15 June and died aboard a hospital ship on 18 June.
[28] John C. Pope, Angel On My Shoulder, Kindle eBook.William Skeens received a posthumous Silver Star Medal for gallantry in defending his mortar position against this counterattack.
[29] Stott, 8. Stott is not clear about the identity of the other battalion’s CP, but it was likely BLT 2-24. Interestingly, he notes that the withdrawal of the 81mm mortars was due to “a misunderstood order.”
[30] A commendation in Hospital Quarterly gives the number of patients as 35; a contemporary news report of Munski’s decoration claims 57.
[31] Pope, Angel On My Shoulder.
[32] Stott, 9.
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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Adams, William Joseph | Charlie | Gunnery Sergeant | Gunnery Sergeant | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left heel | Evacuated to USS Bountiful |
| Allen, Horace Frank Jr. | Charlie | Corporal | Flamethrower | Wounded In Action | Burns, both eyes | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Boylan, Kenneth Laverne | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left jaw | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Brahm, Paul | Charlie | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Brunelli, Austin Roger | Headquarters | Lieutenant Colonel | Battalion CO | Joined | From 24th Marines HQ | To Headquarters Company |
| Chambers, Leslie Morris Jr. | Baker | Corporal | Mortarman | Killed In Action | Shrapnel, left shoulder | Removed for burial |
| Curylo, Edward | Baker | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, cheek | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Donovan, James Richard | Headquarters | First Lieutenant | Asst. 81mm Officer | Died Of Wounds | Gunshot, abdomen (15 June) | Died aboard USS Pierce; buried at sea |
| Eckert, Everett Harry John | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left hand | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Felicia, Francis Gordon | Headquarters | HA1c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (serious) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Gabourie, Robert Kenneth | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left leg | Not evacuated |
| Halligan, Robert Max | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left buttocks | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Hottel, William Henry Jr. | Headquarters | PFC | Scout | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Joyce, Clyde Hilton | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, abdomen | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Judice, Ripley George | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Compound fracture, right ulna | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Kerr, Thomas Moore Jr. | Headquarters | First Lieutenant | Communications Officer | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated |
| King, Clifford James | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Grenade explosion | Removed for burial |
| Lewis, James Albert | Baker | PFC | BARman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, right side | Removed for burial |
| Martin, Frederick Charles | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoulder | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| McCarthy, Robert Joseph | Baker | PFC | Basic | Wounded In Action | Laceration, right hand | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| McCoy, Chester Lawrence | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left hip | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Montoya, Gilbert Eugene | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Compound fracture, mandible | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Murguia, Manuel | Baker | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, abdomen | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Nadler, Robert Frederick | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, lumbar region | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Norton, Patrick William | Baker | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Pitoniak, Michael Edward | Baker | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left arm | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Reichenbacher, William Francis | Charlie | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left eye | Evacuated to USS James O'Hara |
| Reynolds, Francis John | Baker | PFC | BARman | Killed In Action | Unknown | "Remains unknown" |
| Rieker, Henry Jacob | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to USS Cambria |
| Roquet, Leon Henry Jr. | Able | Corporal | Rifleman | Returned To Duty | From hospital | To Able Company |
| Rossel, Frank Peyton | Baker | Corporal | Ammo NCO | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Rudyk, Stephen | Charlie | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Ryan, Francis Jude | Headquarters | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Wounded In Action | Laceration, right hand | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Schott, Carl Francis | Able | Sergeant | Guide, 2 Platoon | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Schultz, William Moe | Baker | PFC | Messenger | Wounded In Action | Psychoneurosis | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Shearin, James Brooks | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Compound fracture, 5th metatarsal | Evacuated to USS Solace |
| Shemansky, Stanley Paul | Charlie | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Returned To Duty | From "missing" status | To Charlie Company |
| Skeens, William Harry | Headquarters | PFC | Ammo Carrier | Killed In Action | Gunshot, chest | Removed for burial |
| Tackett, Everett | Baker | PFC | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, right shoulder & psychoneurosis | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Thomas, Ellis Wiley | Baker | Corporal | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, back of head | Removed for burial |
| Thorne, Lawrence Joshua Jr. | Baker | Corporal | Fire Team Leader | Wounded In Action | Unknown (serious) | Evacuated, destination unknown |
| Vasey, Ralph Arthur | Baker | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Blast concussion | Evacuated to USS Pinkney |
| Watkins, Robert Ernest | Baker | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Evacuated to USS Solace |
Pingback: Baker Company Portrait | First Battalion, 24th Marines
Pingback: A Tale Of Two Missing. | Missing Marines