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Forty-odd years does make a difference. It w3goUt|i many years ago that I was in action in the Pacific during World War II. All these years, l refused to talk about that action. But now I have an u _^not compelling need to tell that story—for reasons c fathom.
The fighting on Tulagi was so bloody that hospital corpsmen were hard-pressed to keep up with the casualties. But Guadalcanal would make Tulagi look easy. A corpsman attached to the 2d Battalion, 5th Marines, recalls the scene— as much as he can.
. 1st
It was 0300, and the men of a rifle company in ^ Marine Division were nervously consuming a lar8e ^ese fast of steak and eggs. Within a couple of hours, same men would land on Tulagi and Guadalcana ■ t The date was recorded in U. S. history as ' 1
1942. But in that part of the world, it was 8 /'lLJeC|< of know, because I was one of those men on the mess the troopship. (Q go-
Near daybreak, we were saddled up and ready ,on_ This was no field exercise. We carried live anlIllUtf,e Our company was the first to go over the side, do cargo net, and into the landing craft.
ThisS.^e S*°W^~ maneuvercd toward shore, we were tense.
head a^Ri01^ 'rst attack. We were to establish a beach- tWoBlue Beach on the island of Tulagi. There were 'he others- ^ne WaS ^oB'P°P’” and I have forgotten
lish h!' °i!!e wave °f Marines was to precede us—to estab-
U . On nthpr norte rtf fKo ie1nr*/4
Marine r °n odier Parts lh° island. They were the Was bre- ,aiders’ a highly trained parachute contingent that It w 3 *n" tradition by landing in rubber boats.
^heJsOm^-T'
rines i ° men in Company G, 2d Battalion, 5th Ma-
1 Was nno „_l.. ... . , , ’...........
carry’ aSS °ne on'y two hospital corpsmen. I did not CroSS onWcaP°n^ and I wore a white armband with a red men we * ' / canded emergency medical supplies. Many rnight n ?u ePend'n§ on me. and 1 was worried that I after tn ° e aB*e t0 ter|d to all the wounded soon enough
As heywere hit
inch C lat!dcd- we met resistance but were still able to Was So n^ard' Phe fighting was bloody, gruesome. There a feddishh ^and‘t0~hand fighting that the jungle took on
Was
yelf VVorfirig feverishly. Each time I heard someone 'v°rked ,0rTsrnan-" I got there as if by magic. My hands
My fjrasler and more accurately than ever before. dered Llrst'a'd Pack was rapidly becoming lighter. I won- fightino°W *on§ medical supplies would last if the sterile c Cont'nued at this pace. Bandages, tape, splints, ning t ^Presses, and sulfanilamide powder were begin- rtl°rphineUn *°W’ lk°ugh I still had an ample supply of
nietafu^ one Marine who had been shot through his
•ueijjJ h 1 vvnu liau uttn anui uuuugtt ms
had Spue rnet‘ Portun’ately, he was still alive. The bullet ally " C0mpletely around the inside of his helmet, liter- entire s f!n^ ^im, leaving a bright bloody head with the a him., a B back and hanging as though it were on
Phine ^ 8'vmg him a quarter-grain shot of mor-
prevenf ,sPrinkled sulfanilamide powder over his head to log (jjg 'afcction and to congeal the blood. Carefully fold-
With a S<ja'P tiack in place, I attached it to his forehead
We
safety pjn.
POUl
r,ng
Passed on, trying to join the Marines who were
sleep-’6 ln ^rom other beachheads. I don’t remember Wh'f °f eat*n8 during those first three days. tab|jsu e We were moving inland, a base hospital was es- W0rm d- The corpsmen attached to the hospital were behind us as litter bearers, picking up the 0nced We had treated and carrying them to the hospital. Mapv C|- * dad 3 chance to get back to the base hospital, tec^p ° t*le men 1 had treated in the field were alive and On rhtln^' * can’t describe how proud I felt that day.
°Pen ft1?,aBernoon of the second day, we approached an
>8 in e at
,q[^ ***w man in uui Luiuimi was 1111. me uineci-
the o ordered us to pull back from that position while
oin
fir,
otiviuuuu ui me sceunu uay, wc appiuaencu an
eld. We were to cross the field one at a time, run-
Z|gzag fashion. However, a machine gun opened
in and *he first man in our column was hit. The officer-
°mpany returned the enemy fire, the |j'ac°ne yelled, “Corpsman!” and I took off across the ■, C d to reach the downed Marine. A top sergeant ran
We,
r^Za8 course with me. Bullets from the machine gun
Peking nn the Hirt nil nmnnH 11c
king up the dirt all around us
The fallen Marine had taken a bullet in one side of his neck and was bleeding profusely.
“Let’s get back, he’s a dead man,’’ said the sergeant, as he turned and ran back to our company.
I knew I couldn’t help the Marine, but because he appeared to be alive, I thought he might be suffering, so 1 stopped long enough to administer morphine.
When I started back to my company, several of the men yelled and waved me away. The fighting had become too fierce, and I couldn’t get back. 1 did the only thing I could do. I zigzagged and ran the other way across the field.
It was late afternoon. The field was a checkerboard of bomb craters and bodies of Marines. Most were dead. But I went from one to the other and found eight still alive. They were all Raiders.
Before it got dark, I carried or dragged each of the men to a large shell hole and continued to treat their wounds as darkness crept in. Here, in no-man’s-land, I was no hero. I needed their company as much as they needed me for medical care.
The night was pitch black. We were thankful for that because some time later a Japanese patrol walked within three feet of our shell hole. We didn’t dare start anything because we were so immobilized. But we were prepared to defend ourselves. Each man had a weapon, and in spite of his wounds, was tensed for battle. Fortunately, nothing happened.
Toward morning, a weary Marine patrol happened upon us. When we were told to identify ourselves, I blurted out my name, rank, and unit, along with the fact that I had eight wounded Marines in my care. I forgot one of the passwords but was able to affirm “lollipop” in a loud clear voice.
Stretchers were brought in, and all my charges were safely carried to the base hospital. I rejoined my company at daylight. It was quite a homecoming since everyone had feared me dead.
That was the third day. Late in the afternoon of that same day, we linked up temporarily with the rest of the battalion. We had lost a disproportionate number of corps- men, because of the high visibility of the white armbands. We were ordered to remove the armbands for our own safety and to arm ourselves. I picked up a .45-caliber pistol with a full clip of ammunition, and replenished my medical supplies.
The fighting was far from over. There were caves and other hidden areas that we still had to locate and secure.
On the fourth day came the dawning of hunger.
During a landing, it is militarily proper to unload troops and weapons first. Then additional ammunition, and, finally, food and water are unloaded. However, the fleet had been unable to unload any edible provisions.
There was ample water on Tulagi, though it took hours of testing before it was approved. There were many sacks of rice, but they were bug-ridden. The top medical officers insisted that the insects be removed. This job proved to be much too tedious, and the medical brass finally relented, allowing the rice to be cooked and served. Not a soul complained.
On this same day, we were assigned more permanent
■"I'ngs / November 1987
71
bivouac areas from which different platoons were ordered out on search-and-destroy patrols.
After several more days of patrols, when the enemy was virtually destroyed, we discovered a cave at the base of a narrow ravine. The cave appeared to be a deep tunnel, and it was hard to get a good shot at it without standing directly in front of the entrance, which would have been suicidal.
We had no idea how many were holed up in this cave. But they were given ample opportunity to surrender. Japanese-speaking Marines urgently conveyed the message, to no avail. The Japanese were adamant in their refusal to surrender.
Finally, a large shell was lowered from the top of the ravine until it was positioned to explode directly into the cave. A firing pin was attached to the rear of the shell, and the pin was struck by bullets fired by Marines sitting on top of the ravine, to detonate the shell.
After the smoke cleared, 1 was one of the first members of the squad to enter the cave. I was to administer aid to any of the Japanese who might have survived the blast.
The cave was cut deep into the mountainside, perhaps 75 feet with additional branching hollows. Two of the hollows were large enough to have served as small offices. There were at least 100 bodies, some piled four deep. It was impossible to walk in without stepping on them.
Tulagi was now completely in American hands, and we looked forward to a long rest. But such was not to be.
The Marines on Guadalcanal were meeting heavier resistance, and they needed help. Our company, among oth
ers, joined the fight. „ction
Guadalcanal made Tulagi look easy. We were • £
there for nearly 60 days. Our company set up de e ^ positions on the perimeter of Henderson Field, our airstrip carved out of the jungle. And for close to
months we had: hellin2
- Continuous air raids and, much worse, nightly s - by Japanese warships—all night, every night
- Foxholes: damp, muddy, or half-filled with water torrential rains; the holes each of us dug for ourselves^^ where we rested, tried to sleep, took cover from e fire, and prayed
- Dysentery and malaria . .,
- Never-ending patrolling, in defense of the airtie ^
- More hand-to-hand fighting, more wounded,
dying , „ttie of
- And Bloody Ridge, the most awful, gruesome all; the ground was so wet and slippery from spil'e that walking or even crawling became difficult
I wanted to write the entire story, because my reC<j.{,jng tions are so vivid. But as I think back on those horrls bloody days, I am beginning to have too many sle ' nights, and too many painful headaches. It lS A^oiit harder and harder to put my thoughts on paper W1 reliving the most terrifying days of my life.
I’m sorry, I can’t write any more.
Editor’s Note: The author passed away before "r get his story in print. We’re sorry.
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