BATTLE NARRATIVE
A Long And Bloody Night Tinian: 25 July 1944
The Japanese garrison on Tinian was poorly prepared to defend their island even before VAC pulled off the surprisingly successful landings on White Beach. The senior officer, Vice Admiral Kakuji Kakuda of the First Air Fleet, was a virtual nonentity in directing defensive operations. He had four airfields but no aircraft – all 107 Japanese planes based on Tinian were destroyed or inoperable when the Marines landed – and had a bad reputation as “an exceedingly unpleasant drunk.”[2] Historian Carl Hoffman wrote that Kakuda “willingly catered to his almost unquenchable thirst for liquor; he lacked the fortitude to face the odds arrayed against him at Tinian.”[3] After several unsuccessful attempts to evacuate his command in rubber boats, Kakuda and his staff retreated to Tinian’s east coast, where it was presumed they committed suicide.
With Kakuda unwilling or unable to exercise authority, the task fell to Colonel Kiyochi Ogata and Captain Goichi Oya. Ogata’s 50th Infantry Regiment, veterans of Manchuria, comprised most of the ground fighting force, while Oya’s 56th Naval Guard Force (Keibitai) manned fixed artillery positions and the anti-aircraft batteries around airfields and harbor installations. The 9,000-man garrison was almost evenly split between Army and Navy, and the traditional acrimony between the branches complicated all attempts at coordinating a defense. While Ogata was technically in charge, Oya essentially refused to recognize his authority. Each commander created his own plan, and their orders showed “a scrupulous avoidance of even mentioning the other service.”[4] Ogata concentrated his defenses at what he felt were the most likely landing sites (Tinian Town and Asiga Bay) and kept most of his reserves in the south, ready to reinforce or counterattack an amphibious assault. He assigned just one reinforced company to the Northwestern Sector, which included the White Beaches.[5] Oya’s men were situated “with more relation to convenience than design,” and while most of the Keibitai were deployed at installations in the south, between 600-1,000 men from mixed naval units manned posts around the two airfields at Ushi Point.
In the event of an invasion, Ogata expected his officers to “be prepared to destroy the enemy at the beach, but be prepared to shift two-thirds of the force elsewhere” – an impossible task, according to historian Hoffman – and designated an infantry battalion as a “Mobile Counterattack Force” ready to move to any threatened sector.[6] Ogata was vague on the specifics, but such an order amounted to “standard operating procedure for Japanese in a situation such as this,” continues Hoffman. “In the absence of further instructions, subordinate Japanese commanders would follow that dictate.” As soon as Ogata realized he had been rooked into “repelling” a false landing at Tinian Town, he ordered his Counterattack Force and all available Army ground units to converge on the White Beaches. Oya’s men at Ushi Point were caught up in the spirit. “Though not trained for an infantry mission, they had a fanatic will to close with the Americans, a will that compensated only in part for their lack of technique,” concludes Hoffman.[7] The hodgepodge of Imperial Navy men picked up any weapons they could find, even dismounting some of the heavy anti-air machine guns, and made their own way towards the American beachhead. They aimed their thrust at what appeared to be the weakest point: the extreme left of the Marine line.
The first Japanese voices were heard at approximately 1230 AM.[8] From the foxhole he shared with Corporal Leon H. Roquet, Jr., and PFC Wallace M. Holt, PFC Alva R. Perry strained to see any movement across the darkened field ahead. “The Japanese at our front started yelling at us,” he recalled. “They even threw rocks. It was obvious that there were a great many of them, and they were getting drunk. I remember looking at my watch… I thought, ‘this is going to be a long and bloody night.’”[9] PFC Robert D. Price heard clinking equipment, turning wheels, and voices coming from the dark – “so we knew they were really going to attack us.”[10] LVTA crewmen, their vehicles parked hull-down behind the coral ridge, could see moving silhouettes illuminated by fiercely burning fires.
“People ask me what was the worst thing I can remember when in combat,” Perry continued. “Well, there are a whole lot of worst things. First, a long artillery barrage. The next worst is waiting for a counterattack that you know is coming.”[11] The Japanese chanting and catcalling sacrificed surprise for psychological impact – for both sides. While Perry felt his nerves stretched to the breaking point, young Japanese men were mustering the courage needed to sustain the last chapter of their lives. The macabre celebration lasted nearly two hours.
At 0200, “all hell broke loose” as the Japanese unleashed “the most devastating artillery and mortar attack we had ever been under.”[12] Explosions rocked the thin line of foxholes, sending hot shards of shrapnel shredding through equipment and bodies. PFC Howard M. Kerr was behind his machine gun when a shell landed nearby. “The concussion from the blast blows the wind out of you,” he said. Shrapnel killed Kerr’s assistant gunner and wounded another man. Kerr himself was riddled; he struggled to breathe with a collapsed lung but was “so angry I stayed on the gun.” He lapsed into unconsciousness, finger on the trigger.[13]
The first Japanese troops rushed forward under the cover of the barrage and began pitching grenades. Perry flinched under a shower of dirt and metal. “Are you all right, Al?” shouted Roquet. Wally Holt dropped to the floor of the foxhole, looking bewildered. The sharp-eyed North Dakotan had spotted a Japanese soldier throwing a grenade and tried to field the missile like a shortstop. He was a fraction too late. “My hand is gone!” he howled, staring at the mangled stump. “I won’t be able to play baseball anymore!” Holt scrambled out of the hole and disappeared into the night.[14] Perry and Roquet turned to the front just as a wave of Japanese troops burst out of the bushes about thirty yards away. Star shells lit the sky, and every man in Able Company opened fire.
The Japanese hit the company’s barbed wire – “God, did we pile them up on it!” recalled Captain Irving Schechter – and pushed through with the sheer weight of numbers. “The Japanese would yell ‘banzai,’ and my men would yell it right back at them, along with some choice obscenities,” remembered Schechter. “The most remarkable thing to me was that every single one of my men stayed put. I don’t think a single one of them broke and ran.” For his part, Schechter was racing along the line, encouraging his men, “trying to keep a lid on things.” He had a trademark trait of not wearing his helmet in combat, telling his men he would put it on when things “got bad.” The sight of their slight skipper sharing the risks up on the line encouraged the men to fight harder. “I was as scared as any other Marine in Company A,” Schechter admitted. “I just tried not to show it.”[15]
As he moved from foxhole to foxhole, Buck Schechter may have noticed similar selfless acts of bravery. Private Cecil Ray Tolley was in a machine gun position when a barrage of grenades landed close by, disabling both gunners and wounding Tolley severely. Though he usually fought as a rifleman, Tolley managed to get the gun back in action and fired through four boxes of ammunition – a thousand rounds – with only one functioning hand. PFC Charles Edward Seader, a replacement under fire for the first time, spotted Japanese troops about to break through a weak point; he grabbed his BAR and launched a counterattack of his own. The startled enemy fell back, but not before shooting Seader through the chest. PFC Gust Alex Pappas worked his BAR with equal vigor and at close range. Japanese troops reached his foxhole several times, but Pappas – a stolid construction worker from Duluth, Minnesota – refused to budge. Corporal Claude Thomas Henderson, Jr., a 60mm mortar squad leader, posted himself on the front lines and directed mortar fire at the onrushing enemy. When he saw a corpsman treating a wounded Marine, Henderson planted himself in front of their hole and emptied his carbine “with deadly effectiveness” until a bullet ripped through his neck. The corpsman quickly bandaged the corporal and tagged him for evacuation, but the wounds were fatal. Henderson died in the sickbay of the USS Heywood, choking on blood and phlegm. “Not a pretty sight,” remarked a friend who witnessed the end.
The First Battalion’s corpsmen were everywhere that night and paid an extremely heavy price. PhM3c William E. Nizzardi moved between frontline foxholes, administering blood plasma and treating wounded men. When a machine gun crew – possibly Tolley’s – was knocked out by hand grenades, Nizzardi ran across open ground to help, with Japanese troops bearing down just 25 yards away. The corpsman was killed just as he reached the wounded men. PhM2c Jacob M. Gottlieb, an aspiring botanist commended for his medical performance in the previous two battles, fell mortally wounded and died aboard the USS Heywood not long after Claude Henderson. HA1c Harry Malley, “a good man that the fellows liked,” had just received a letter announcing the birth of his son; HA1c Raymond K. Robey had recently learned he was up for the Silver Star for gallantry shown on Saipan. Both were hit, evacuated, and died aboard the USS J. Franklin Bell. With all of Able Company’s corpsmen out of action, PhM1c Walter E. Dodd commandeered an ambulance jeep and drove into the thick of the fighting, pulled several wounded men aboard, and brought them safely out of the line of fire.[16] HA1c Dave J. Perry was struck in the face by shrapnel; the wound would lead to his discharge, but he would survive. Less fortunate was PFC Richard A. Hayes, shot and killed while serving as a stretcher bearer.
PFC John C. Pope, attached to Able Company for the night, held the literal end of the line – “with the cliff on our left, we did not have to worry about our flank and could concentrate our fire straight ahead.” To his right, five Marines worked a 37mm gun; beyond them was a BAR team, then another machine gun manned by Pope’s buddy PFC Glenn E. Doster. “Red” Doster was busily dueling an enemy machine gun when a small group of Japanese broke through the crossfire. In the sudden light of a flare, Pope beheld a screaming officer running full pelt, gripping a sword “as if he was going to chop wood.” Pope dropped his belt of ammo and picked up the squad’s shotgun. “I swung up and fired. Probably several rifle bullets hit him at the same time as my buckshot. He went backward, but the saber continued end over end and came to rest near where I was sitting.” PFC Robert E. Sherrill called for more ammunition, and Assistant Cook Manuel Schoolus crawled forward with two fresh boxes. “Enemy knee mortar shells were falling all around and bullets were zipping and whizzing like crazy,” continued Pope. “I yelled for him to get in the hole with us but he was not quick enough. A shell burst just to the right of him… it hit ‘Schools’ in the neck, causing a deep gash, [passed] under my chin and [cut] my helmet strap. He was out like a light and bleeding badly, with both hands clutching his throat. All I could do at the time was pull him into the hole behind the gun.”[17]
Alva Perry was well and truly in the thick of it. He was an exceptional gunner, firing in short, controlled bursts, but still burned out the barrel of his BAR. “I had to find another one if I wanted to live. It was pitch dark; I had to wait for the flares to provide some light… I got out of the hole and crawled along until I found a BARman who was wounded or dead. I didn’t have to go far.” Roquet was gone when Perry returned, and he was determined to hold the position alone. His ammunition dwindled rapidly, but “I knew I could not stop firing and load my empty magazines.” Salvation arrived in the form of an unfamiliar Marine. “We are out of ammunition for our mortars, so I came here to help,” he said. With perfect composure, the young stranger sat bolt upright on the edge of the hole, reloading magazines and handing them off to Perry.[18] In foxholes all along the line, “engineers, corpsmen, communicators, naval gunfire liaisons, and shore party personnel” took up firing positions to help repel the attack.[19]
The carnage continued until the sun began to rise over Tinian’s eastern shore at 0545. Sensing failure, the surviving Japanese troops grew desperate and turned their weapons on themselves. “Many used hand grenades,” explained Sergeant Oscar T. Hanson. “They pulled out the pin, hit the grenade against their head, and held it to their face until it exploded… approximately five to seven seconds.” A soldier with a land mine tried to jump in Hanson’s hole, but “the mine exploded [and] killed the Japanese soldier, blowing his helmet off. It went sailing through the air and landed in our foxhole. By this time we were all battle weary, and in a queer kind of way there was almost some humor in it.”[20]
Medium tanks from Company B, 4th Tank Battalion rumbled up to join the fray. PFC Lionel P. Salazar was pleased to see the tanks – until one accelerated towards his foxhole. Salazar stood up to wave the tank away and was immediately shot through the shoulder by a Japanese bullet. The young Marine scuttled around behind the tank and was ordered back to the beach by his platoon leader. The wound – his second in three weeks – spelled the end of his combat career.[21]
A handful of Japanese troops remained hidden in the brush and behind the bodies of the dead, waiting for a Marine to let down his guard. PFC Price recalled “my squad leader, Sergeant Bill Linkins – terrific guy, physique like a Roman god – really a good Marine. We got word that we were gonna have another unit take over our position. Linkins stood up, a big grin on his face, and circled his arm in the air, ‘squad, assemble here’ – and some Japanese out there, stacked in with the dead, shot him right through the head.”[22] During the night, Linkins distinguished himself by taking over a machine gun, covering the evacuation of wounded Marines while accounting for 26 Japanese soldiers in the process.
Al Perry, deafened by hours of constant firing, went around to check on his friends. PFC Richard J. Brodnicki’s foxhole looked empty; the Marine from Buffalo lay on his face in the dirt. “I rolled him over on his back and noticed that he had been shot between the eyes.” Corporal Winston M. Cabe “was still alive, but most of his face had been blown away. I called for a corpsman.” The first responder was another stranger, and “I was amazed at his age. He was about 35 to 40 – old enough to be my father.” With a practiced eye, the sailor sized up the situation. “First, we have to cut away the hairs from where his nose was,” he announced, rummaging through his bag. “This guy is brave as hell,” thought Perry – but awe turned to shock in an instant. “He looked me full in the face and grunted, and reached down to his stomach… I could see his hands were full of his own intestines. He fell forward on top of Cabe and died immediately.”[23]
Perry checked the corpsman and Cabe for pulses, and tried to cover his buddy with a blanket. He saw a blur of movement and just had time to register a Japanese soldier running at him. “The grenade exploded, and I felt a hard blow to the right side of my neck. I reached up to see how bad it was and felt something strange. It was the hand of the soldier that had just blown himself up. It was grasping my neck.” At this moment, Captain Schechter passed by and ordered Perry back to his foxhole. The dazed Tennessean complied and sat quietly, alone and staring into space, as his friends were evacuated. Cabe miraculously survived – Perry’s blanket helped keep him from slipping into shock – but was permanently blinded.[24]
Schechter sent patrols out to mop up the battlefield. The area was a charnel house: shredded corpses hung from barbed wire, lay flat in the trampled grass, or dangled out of Marine foxholes. John Pope and Bobby Sherrill quietly surveyed the devastation from their gun position. “If I had known there were that many of them, I would have jumped off the cliff and swam to the nearest ship,” muttered Sherrill. “I would have been right behind you,” said Pope.[25] An official body count totaled 476 dead, “most of them within 100 yards of Company A’s lines.”[26] Schechter’s men, by comparison, had seven killed and 33 wounded in their first 24 hours ashore. “About thirty percent casualties, which is pretty bad for one early morning battle,” he said.[27] Lieutenant Colonel Otto Lessing reported that “Company A was reduced to about 30 men with usable weapons before the enemy was repulsed.”[28]
Grim scenes following the failed counterattack on July 25, 1944. USMC photos.
Colonel Ogata’s soldiers tried to crack the Marine line in two more places that night, trying their luck against other battalions holding the center and right. The futile counterattacks cost 1,241 Japanese lives – one-seventh of Ogata’s total force – and five of his twelve light tanks. It was a resounding victory for the Marines, but the true impact would not become clear for several more days. “We still believed the enemy capable of a harder fight,” said Fourth Marine Division intelligence officer LtCol. Gooderham McCormick, “and from day to day during our advance expected a bitter fight that never materialized.”[30] In gyrene terms, Ogata had “shot his bolt” and destroyed his garrison’s most aggressive troops for nothing. The survivors would fight on and inflict casualties on the Marines, but the “long and bloody night” effectively broke the back of Tinian’s defenders.
Valor decorations rained down on the battalion, especially Able Company: Captain Schechter and Private Tolley would receive the Navy Cross for their actions, while Sergeant Linkins, Corporal Henderson, PFC Doster, PFC Holt, PFC Pappas, PFC Seader, and Pharmacist’s Mate Nizzardi were put in for the Silver Star. An unknown number of Bronze Stars were also awarded; one went to Pharmacist’s Mate Dodd for evacuating casualties in his commandeered ambulance, while another went to the battalion supply officer, 1Lt. George P. Wheeland, for leading ammunition resupply parties to the front lines. Doubtless, many more acts of bravery went unwitnessed and unreported.
The first 24 hours of fighting for Tinian wounded 64 men from BLT 1-24, took the lives of twenty, and would yet claim Corporal Orest J. Santillo, who would die of wounds suffered during the counterattack. Some of them may have elicited this reaction from Sergeant Dan Levin, a combat correspondent who came ashore on the morning of July 25.
Lessing’s battalion held their positions until 1015, when the First Battalion, 8th Marines passed through the line to continue the advance. They spent most of the day in reserve, trying to sleep, eat, regain their strength and composure. “I saw a lot of men die. That was rough,” commented Robert Price. “A couple times, I broke down a little bit. Cried. Made up my mind that I was gonna do a better job, that I was gonna work harder, kill more Japs, try and stay alive and make it back.”[32] The front lines advanced so quickly that BLT 1-24 was called up to fill a battalion-sized gap in the front line during the afternoon. By evening, they held Ushi Airfield – where hours ago, hundreds of Japanese naval troops had mustered to try and throw them into the sea.
- Kerr interview.
- Richard Harwood, A Close Encounter: The Marine Landing on Tinian (Washington, DC: Marine Corps Historical Center, 1994), 9.
- Carl Hoffman, Tinian, 10.
- Ibid.
- Harwood, 10.
- Hoffman, 10.
- Ibid., 62.
- A significant part of the following pages originally appeared as an article entitled “A Long And Bloody Night: Holding The Left Flank at Tinian,” published in Leatherneck Magazine.
- Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company.”
- Price interview.
- Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company.”
- Ibid.
- Kerr interview
- Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company.”
- Berry, 227.
- Dodd, 148.
- Pope, chap. 20. Schoolus survived his wound and had a surprise reunion with Pope at Camp Lejeune the following year.
- Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company.”
- Carl Hoffman, Tinian, 63.
- Hanson, 36.
- Salazar interview.
- Price interview.
- This was not one of the First Battalion corpsmen; his identity is unknown.
- Perry, “The Men Of ‘A’ Company.”
- Pope, chap. 20.
- Hoffman, Tinian, 63.
- Berry, 227.
- Hoffman, Tinian, 63.
- Hanson, 36.
- Hoffman, Tinian, 67-68.
- Dan Levin, From The Battlefield: Dispatches of a World War II Marine (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1995), 24-25.
- Price interview.
Battalion Daily Report
Casualties, Evacuations, Joinings & Transfers
KIA/DOW
WIA & EVAC*
SICK
JOINED
TRANSFERRED
STRENGTH
Out of an original landing strength of 599 officers and men.
* Does not include minor wounds not requiring evacuation from the line.
| Name | Company | Rank | Role | Change | Cause | Disposition | Profile |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Barr, Charles Howard | Charlie | Corporal | Driver | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, back & left arm | Evacuated to USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Bartels, Ronald Paul | Able | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, back | Evacuated to USS Tryon | Visit |
| Brodnicki, Richard Joseph | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial | Visit |
| Cabe, Winston McKay | Able | Corporal | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, face | Evacuated to USS Heywood | Visit |
| Cota, Albert Mark | HQ | PFC | Mortarman | Returned to duty | Visit | ||
| Fritz, Harold John | Able | FM1c | Field Music | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated | Visit |
| Gann, Kenneth Spurgeon | Able | Sergeant | Section Leader | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, shoulder | Evacuated, destination unknown | Visit |
| Gottlieb, Jacob Martin | HQ | PhM2c | Corpsman | Wounded (Mortal) | Gunshot, abdomen | Died of wounds aboard USS Heywood | Visit |
| Hayes, Richard Avery | HQ | PFC | Stretcher Bearer | Killed In Action | Gunshot, chest | Removed for burial | Visit |
| Henderson, Claude Thomas, Jr. | Able | Corporal | 60mm Squad Leader | Wounded (Mortal) | Gunshot, neck | Died of wounds aboard USS Heywood | Visit |
| Holt, Wallace Morgan | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Traumatic amputation, right forearm | Evacuated to USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Kerr, Howard Matthew | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated to USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Linkins, William Pinkney, Jr. | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Killed In Action | Gunshot, head | Removed for burial | Visit |
| Locke, Joe Preston | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right leg & buttock | Evacuated to USS Heywood | Visit |
| Lohff, Jay Elwood | HQ | Gunnery Sergeant | 81mm NCO | Wounded In Action | Unknown (slight) | Not evacuated | Visit |
| Lowry, George Myron | Able | Sergeant | Squad Leader | Wounded In Action | Compound fracture, left humerus | Evacuated, destination unknown | Visit |
| Malley, Harry | HQ | HA1c | Corpsman | Wounded (Mortal) | Gunshot, left shoulder | Died of wounds aboard USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Nizzardi, William Edward | HQ | PhM3c | Corpsman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, left temple | Removed for burial | Visit |
| Perry, Dave Junior | HQ | HA1c | Corpsman | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, face | Evacuated to USS Relief | Visit |
| Pettyjohn, William Ralph | Able | PFC | Machine Gunner | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, left arm | Evacuated, destination unknown | Visit |
| Reilly, John James | HQ | PFC | Mortarman | Returned to duty | Visit | ||
| Robey, Raymond Kenneth | HQ | HA1c | Corpsman | Wounded (Mortal) | Chest wounds | Died of wounds aboard USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Salazar, Lionel Perez | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right shoulder | Evacuated to USS Heywood | Visit |
| Santerre, Robert Ulderic | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, chest & right wrist | Evacuated to USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Santillo, Orest Joseph | HQ | Corporal | Ammunition Tech | Wounded (Mortal) | Compound fracture, left knee | Evacuated to USS Tryon | Visit |
| Schoolus, Manuel | HQ | Assistant Cook | Cook | Wounded In Action | Shrapnel, neck | Evacuated to USS J. Franklin Bell | Visit |
| Seader, Charles Edward | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Gunshot, chest | Removed for burial | Visit |
| Secor, George William | Able | PFC | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown | Visit |
| Sexson, Joseph Dale | Able | Private | Rifleman | Killed In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Removed for burial | Visit |
| Shea, Kenneth Joseph | Able | PFC | Mortarman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, left shoulder | Evacuated to USS Heywood | Visit |
| Solak, Edward Joseph | Able | PFC | BARman | Wounded In Action | Gunshot, right arm | Evacuated to USS Heywood | Visit |
| Tolley, Cecil Ray | Able | Private | Rifleman | Wounded In Action | Multiple shrapnel wounds | Evacuated, destination unknown | Visit |
| Triggs, Stephen John | HQ | Sergeant | Field Wire Chief | Sick | Unknown | Evacuated, destination unknown | Visit |
