BREACHING THE
     MARIANAS:

     THE BATTLE
     FOR SAIPAN



     MARINES IN
     WORLD WAR II
     COMMEMORATIVE SERIES


     BY CAPTAIN JOHN C. CHAPIN
     U.S. MARINE CORPS RESERVE (RET)


                               TABLE OF CONTENTS



                                                           Original    On-Line
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Breaching the Marianas                                          1          5
Bibliography                                                              40



Breaching the Marianas:
The Battle for Saipan

by Captain John C. Chapin, USMCR (Ret)



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>


     On the Cover: A Marine enters the outskirts of Garapan, Saipan,
     through the torii gate of a Shin to Shrine. Department of Defense
     Photo (USMC) 92993

     At left: The first assault wave has hit the beach from the LVT
     (amphibious tractor) that brought it ashore, and the Marines now
     prepare to fight their way inland. Department of Defense Photo (USMC)
     83261


     It was to be a brutal day. At first light on 15 June 1944, the Navy        
fire support ships of the task force lying off Saipan Island increased their 
previous days' preparatory fires involving all calibers of weapons. At 0542, 
Vice Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner ordered, "Land the landing force." Around 
0700, the landing ships, tank (LSTs) moved to within approximately 1,250 yards 
behind the line of departure. Troops in the LSTs began debarking from them in 
landing vehicles, tracked (LVTs). Control vessels containing Navy and Marine 
personnel with their radio gear took their positions displaying flags 
indicating which beach approaches they controlled.

     Admiral Turner delayed H-hour from 0830 to 0840 to give the "boat waves" 
additional time to get into position. Then the first wave headed full speed 
toward the beaches. The Japanese waited patiently, ready to make the assault 
units pay a heavy price.

     The first assault wave contained armored amphibian tractors (LVT[A]s) 
with their 75mm guns firing rapidly. They were accompanied by light gunboats 
firing 4.5-inch rockets, 20mm guns, and 40mm guns. The LVTs could negotiate 
the reef, but the rest could not and were forced to turn back until a 
passageway through the reef could be discovered.

     Earlier, at 0600, further north, a feint landing was conducted off 
Tanapag harbor by part of the 2d Marines in conjunction with the 1st 
Battalion, 29th Marines, and the 24th Marines. The Japanese were not really 
fooled and did not rush reinforcements to that area, but it did tie up at 
least one enemy regiment.

     When the LVT(A)s and troop-carrying LVTs reached the reef, it seemed to 
explode. In every direction and in the water beyond on the way to the beaches, 
great geysers of water rose with artillery and mortar shells exploding. 
Small-arms fire, rifles, and machine guns joined the mounting crescendo. The 
LVTs ground ashore.

     Confusion on the beaches, particularly in the 2d Marine Division area, 
was compounded by the strength of a northerly current flow which caused the 
assault battalions of the 6th and 8th Marines to land about 400 yards too far 
north. This caused a gap to widen between the 2d and 4th Marine Divisions. As 
Colonel Robert E. Hogaboom, the operations officer of the Expeditionary Troops 
commented: "The opposition consisted primarily of artillery and mortar fire 
from weapons placed in well-deployed positions and previously registered to 
cover the beach areas, as well as fire from small arms, automatic weapons, and 
anti-boat guns sited to cover the approaches to and the immediate landing 
beaches."



                                      1



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                          Map of Pacific Ocean Areas


     As a result, five of the 2d Marine Division assault unit commanders were 
soon wounded in the two battalions of the 6th Marines (on the far left), and 
in the two battalions of the 8th Marines. With Afetan Point in the middle 
spitting deadly enfilade fire to the left and to the right, the next units 
across the gap were two battalions of the 23d Marines and, finally, on the far 
right, two battalions of the 25th Marines.

     Although the original plan had been for the assault troops to ride their 
LVTs all the way to the O-1 (first objective) line, the deluge of Japanese 
fire and natural obstacles prevented this. A few units in the center of the 
4th Division made it, but fierce enemy resistance pinned down the right and 
left flanks. The two divisions were unable to make direct contact.

     A first lieutenant in the 3d Battalion, 24th Marines, John C. Chapin, 
later remembered vividly the extraordinary scene on the beach when he came 
ashore on D-Day:

        All around us was the chaotic debris of bitter combat: Jap and
     Marine bodies lying in mangled and grotesque positions; blasted
     and burnt-out pillboxes; the burning wrecks of LVTs that had been
     knocked out by Jap high velocity fire; the acrid smell of high
     explosives; the shattered trees; and the churned-up sand littered
     with discarded equipment.

     When his company moved inland a short distance, it quickly experienced 
the frightening precision of the pre-registered Japanese artillery fire:

        Suddenly, WHAM! A shell hit right on top of us! I was too
     surprised to think, but instinctively all of us hit the deck and
     began to spread out. Then the shells really began to pour down on
     us: ahead, behind, on both sides, and right in our midst. They would
     come rocketing down with a freight-train roar and then explode with
     a deafening cataclysm that is beyond description.

       It finally dawned on me that the first shell bursts we'd heard had
     been ranging shots, and now that the Japs were "zeroed in" on us, we
     were caught in a full-fledged barrage. The fire was hitting us with
     pin-point accuracy, and it was not hard to see why -- towering 1500
     feet above us


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                               "D-Day at Saipan"



                                      2



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                            Map of D-Day at Saipan
                 Initial Landings and Night Defensive Position


     was Mt. Tapotchau, with Jap observation posts honeycombing its
     crest.

     That night the lieutenant and his runner shared a shallow foxhole and 
split the watches between them. Death came close:

        Slowly, very slowly, the hours of my watch passed, and at last
     I leaned over and shook my runner awake. "It's time for your watch,"
     I whispered. "Look out for that place over there, maybe Japs in it.
     Keep awake." With that I rolled over on the ground and was asleep in
     an instant.

        Right away, it seemed, someone was shaking me and insisting, "Wake
     up!" I jerked bolt upright -- in combat your reflexes act fast and you
     never go fully to sleep. A glance at my watch showed that it was
     almost dawn.

        I turned to my runner who was lying against me, asleep. "Let's
     go!" I said, "Pass the word to the squad leaders to get set." He
     didn't stir. I shook him. He still didn't move. He was dead. With
     the callousness that war demands, I rolled him over, reached for his
     canteen, and poured the precious water into my own canteen. Then I
     left him lying there....

     All the assault regiments were taking casualties from the constant 
shelling that was zeroed in by spotters on the high ground inland. Supplies 
and reinforcing units piled up in confusion on the landing beaches. Snipers 
were everywhere. Supporting waves experienced the same deadly enemy fire on 
their way to the beach. Some LVTS lost their direction, some received direct 
hits, and others were flipped on their sides by waves or enemy fire spilling 
their equipment and personnel onto the reef. Casualties in both divisions 
mounted rapidly.


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

       Marines dig in on the beachhead, consolidating their positions,
       and at the same time preparing to move out on the attack inland.


                                      3



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>


       Members of the Japanese garrison on Saipan pose for a photograph
       during a more peaceful time before the Marine landing.


Evacuating them to the ships was extremely dangerous and difficult. Medical 
aid stations set up ashore were under sporadic enemy fire.

     As the Marine artillery also landed in the late afternoon of D-Day and 
began firing in support of the infantry, it received deadly accurate 
counter-battery fire from the Japanese. The commander of the 4th Division, 
Major General Harry Schmidt, came ashore at 1930 and later recalled, "Needless 
to say, the command post during that time did not function very well. It was 
the hottest spot I was in during the war...."

     Major James A. Donovan, executive officer of the 1st Battalion, 6th 
Marines, endured a mortar barrage that had uncanny timing and precision:

        We entered a little village called Charan-Kanoa. We paused there
     to get some water. We had been pinched out of our zone of action.
     We were washing up and resting when all of a sudden mortar shells
     started to fall on us. We didn't know it at the time, but in a tall
     smokestack nearby was a Japanese forward observer. He was directing
     the fire, looking right down on us. It didn't occur to us that
     somebody could be up in that smokestack after all the preparatory
     naval gunfire and everything that had been fired into the area, but
     he was up there all right. He really caused a great number of
     casualties in G Company.

        He caught us without foxholes. We had that false sense of security
     from having been pinched out of the line. We thought we had a chance
     to relax. We didn't. So all had to dig holes in a hurry, and it's
     hard to dig a hole when you're lying on your stomach digging with
     your chin, your elbows, your knees, and your toes. It is possible to
     dig a hole that way, I found, but we lost far more Marines than we
     should have

                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

            LtGen Smith in his command post ashore on Saipan uses a
            high-powered telescope to observe his troops in action.

   ------------------------------------------------------------------------
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      Lieutenant General Holland M. Smith, one of the most famous Marines of
   World War II, was born in 1882. He was commissioned a second lieutenant 
   in 1905. There followed a series of overseas assignments in the
   Philippines, Nicaragua, Santo Domingo, and with the Marine Brigade in
   France in World War I. Beginning in the early 1930s, he became 
   increasingly focused on the development of amphibious warfare concepts.
   Soon after the outbreak of war with Japan in 1941, he came to a crucial
   position, command of all Marines in the Central Pacific.

     As another Marine officer later described him, "He was of medium height,
   perhaps five feet nine or ten inches, and somewhat paunchy. His once-black
   hair had turned gray. His once close-trimmed mustache was somewhat
   scraggly. He wore steel-rimmed glasses and he smoked cigars incessantly."

   There was one other feature that characterized him: a ferocious temper that
   earned him the nickname "Howlin' Mad" Smith, although his close friends
   knew him as "Hoke."

     This characteristic would usually emerge as irritation at what he felt
   were substandard performances. One famous example of this was his relief of
   an Army general on Saipan. A huge interservice uproar erupted!

     Less than two years later, after 41 years of active service, during which
   he was awarded four Distinguished Service Medals for his leadership in four
   successive successful amphibious operations, he retired in April 1946, as a
   four-star general. He died in January 1967.


                                     4


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                            The 2d Marine Division

     The origins of this division lay in the activation of the 2d Marine
   Brigade as part of the Fleet Marine Force on 1 July 1936. A year later the
   brigade deployed to Shanghai, China, returning in 1938 to San Diego,
   California.

     On 1 February 1941, the unit was redesignated as the 2d Marine Division.
   Its component regiments, the 2d, 6th, 8th, and 10th Marines, brought with
   them impressive histories of service in Vera Cruz (Mexico), World War I in
   France, and the Caribbean.

     In World War II, elements of the division served in Iceland, in Hawaii
   during the attack on Pearl Harbor, and on Samoa, then the full division in
   the Guadalcanal campaign, followed by the bloody assault of Tarawa for
   which it was awarded a Presidential Unit Citation, and on to Saipan,
   Tinian, and Okinawa.


                         The 2d Marine Division Patch

     This 2d Marine Division shoulder patch was worn on Saipan. Designed and
   approved in late 1943, the insignia is in the official Marine Corps colors
   of scarlet and gold. The insignia displays a spearhead-shaped scarlet
   background with a hand holding aloft a lighted gold torch. A scarlet
   numeral "2" is superimposed upon the torch, and the torch and hand are
   encircled by five white stars in the arrangement of the Southern Cross
   constellation; under this the division's first World War II combat took
   place at Guadalcanal.


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                   Illustration of 2d Marine Division Patch

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     before someone finally located that observer up in the smokestack.
     I don't know how tall the smokestack was, but I would say probably
     the equivalent of two or three stories high. From up there he could
     see the entire picture, and he really gave it to us.

     The night of D-Day saw continuous Japanese probing of the Marine 
positions, fire from by-passed enemy soldiers, and an enemy attack in the 4th 
Division zone screened by a front of civilians. The main counterattack, 
however, fell on the 6th Marines on the far left of the Marine lines. About 
2,000 Japanese started moving south from Garapan, and by 2200 they were ready 
to attack. Led by tanks the charge was met by a wall of fire from .30-caliber 
machine guns, 37mm antitank guns, and M-1 rifles. It was too much and they 
fell back in disarray. In addition to 700 enemy dead, they left one tank. The 
body of the bugler who blew the charge was slumped over the open hatch. A 
bullet had gone straight up his bugle!

     One of the crucial assets for the Marine defense that night (and on many 
subsequent nights) was the illumination provided by star shells fired from 
Navy ships. Japanese records recovered later from their Thirty-first Army 
message file revealed,"... as soon as the night attack units go forward, the 
enemy points out targets by using the large star shells which practically turn 

night into day. Thus the maneuvering of units is extremely difficult."

     As the weary Marines finally tried to get some sleep, all along their 
irregular line of foxholes, two things were very clear to them: they had 
forced a precarious beachhead in the teeth of bitter enemy fire, and a long, 
tough battle obviously lay ahead.

     While the thoughts of the riflemen focused on survival and the immediate 
ground in front of them, the senior command echelons saw the initial success 
of the landings as a culmination of months of planning, training, and 
organization for a strategic strike on a crucial Japanese stronghold. The 
opportunity for this sprang from earlier Central Pacific victories.

     The Marine conquest of Tarawa in the Gilbert Islands in November 1943, 
followed by the joint Marine-Army capture of Kwajalein and Eniwetok atolls in 
the Marshall Islands in January-February 1944, had broken the outer ring of 
Japanese defenses and set the stage for succeeding operations.

     These earlier victories had moved up the entire American operational 
timetable for the Central Pacific by three valuable months. After discussions 
of various alternatives (such as an attack on the vast Japanese base at Truk), 
the Joint Chiefs of Staff had settled on the next objective: the Mariana 
Islands. There were to be three principal targets: Saipan, Tinian, and Guam. 
It was a daring decision, for Saipan was 1,344 miles from the Marshalls and 
3,226 miles from Hawaii, but only 1,250 miles from Japan. Furthermore, the 
islands were linchpins in the revised inner defense line which the


                                      5


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                            The 4th Marine Division

     This division had its roots in the shifting and redesignation of
   several other units. The 23d Marines began as infantry detached from the 
   3d Division in February 1943, the same month that an artillery battalion
   became the genesis of the 14th Marines and engineer elements of the 19th
   Marines formed the start of the 20th Marines. In March the 24th Marines 
   was organized, and then in May it was split in two to supply the men for
   the 25th Marines.

     This war-time shuffling provided the major building blocks for a new
   division. The units were originally separated, however, with the 24th
   Marines and a variety of reinforcing units (engineer, artillery, medical,
   motor transport, special weapons, tanks, etc.) at Camp Pendleton in
   California. The rest of the units were at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.
   This East Coast echelon moved to Pendleton by train and also by ship
   through the Panama Canal in July and August 1943. All the units were now
   finally together, and thus the 4th Marine Division was formally activated
   on 14 August 1943.

     After intensive training, it shipped out on 13 January 1944, and in 13
   short months made four major assault landings: Roi-Namur, Saipan, Tinian,
   and Iwo Jima, suffering over 17,000 casualties. It was awarded two
   Presidential Unit Citations and a Navy Unit Commendation, and then
   deactivated 28 November 1945. In February 1966, however, it was reactivated
   as the lead division in the Marine Corps Reserve, and it furnished
   essential units to Desert Storm in the liberation of Kuwait.

                         The 4th Marine Division Patch

     Worn on Saipan, it had a gold "4" on a scarlet background, the official
    colors of the U.S. Marine Corps. This emblem was designed by SSgt John
    Fabion, a member of the division's public affairs office before the
    Marshalls campaign. His commanding officer was astonished to find that,
    when the division attacked Roi islet in Kwajalein Atoll in the Marshall
    Islands (January 1944), the layout of the runways on the Japanese airstrip
    there were "an exact replica."


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                    Illustration of the 4th Division Patch

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Japanese felt they absolutely had to hold after their previous losses in the 
Central and Southwest Pacific.

     Saipan represented a wholly new kind of prickly problem for an American 
assault. Instead of a small, flat coral islet in an atoll, it was a large 
island target of some 72 square miles, with terrain varying from flat cane 
fields to swamps to precipitous cliffs to the commanding 1,554-foot-high Mount 
Tapotchau. Moreover, the Japanese considered it "their own territory," in 
spite of the fact that it was legally only a mandate provided by the terms of 
the Versailles Treaty following World War I. The fact that Japan held the 
islands led it to install a policy of exclusion of all outsiders and the start 
of military construction, forbidden by the treaty, as early as 1934.


     Attacking a formidable objective such as Saipan called for complex 
planning and much greater force than had previously been needed in the Central 
Pacific. An elaborate organization was therefore assembled. Admiral Raymond A. 
Spruance was in overall command of the force detailed to invade the Marianas 
as well as the naval units needed to protect them. Admiral Turner was in 
command over the amphibious task force, while Marine Lieutenant General 
Holland M. Smith was to direct the landing forces on Saipan and then on the 
neighboring island of Tinian. (A similar command structure, but with different 
combat units, was set up for the attack on Guam to the south.)

     The operation plan for Saipan, code-named Forager, called for an assault 
on the western side of the island, with the 2d Marine Division on the left and 
the 4th Marine Division on the right. The Army's 27th Infantry Division was in 
reserve, ready to be fed into the battle if needed. While each of the two 
Marine divisions had previously fought as a complete unit, the 27th had 
experienced only two minor landings (at Makin and Eniwetok islets) for some of 
its regiments and battalions.

     The intensive training for these three divisions took place in the 
Hawaiian islands with Major General Harry Schmidt's 4th Marine Division on 
Maui, Major General Thomas E. Watson's 2d Marine Division on the "Big Island" 
of Hawaii, and Army Major General Ralph C. Smith's 27th Infantry Division on 
Oahu. As Lieutenant Chapin described it:

        (These) months were busy, hard-working ones. The replacements
     that arrived to fill the gaps left by Namur's casualties (in the
     Kwajalein battle) had to be trained in all the complexities of
     field work. Most of these replacements were boys fresh from boot
     camp, and they were ignorant of everything but the barest
     essentials. Week after week was filled with long marches, field
     combat problems, live firing, obstacle courses, street fight


                                      6

     ing, judo, calisthenics, night and day attacks and defenses, etc. There
     were also lectures on the errors we'd made at Namur. Added emphasis was
     placed on attacking fortified positions. We worked with demolition
     charges of dynamite, TNT, and C-2 [plastic explosive], and with flame
     throwers till everyone knew them forward and backward.

     The month of May 1944 brought final maneuvers and practice landings for 
all three divisions. The operation plan looked neatly and efficiently 
organized on paper.

     In practice it looked different to that lieutenant:

        To us in the lower echelons it was just the same old stuff
     that we'd been doing for a solid year: filing up from compartments
     below decks to your assigned boat station, going over the side,
     hurrying down the net to beat the stopwatch, into the heaving LCVP
     (Landing Craft, Vehicle, Personnel),  and away. Then the interminable
     hours of circling,  meanwhile getting wet, hungry and bored. The K
     rations (in a waxed box) tasted like sawdust; the weather got rougher
     and rougher. Some of the men got seasick, and all of us were soaking
     wet and cold. Finally we headed back to our transport and clambered
     up the cargo net with a sigh of relief. The next day it was the
     same thing all over again, except that this time we went ashore.
     This, too, had an awfully familiar feeling: wading through the surf,
     getting your only pair of shoes and socks wringing wet, and then
     onto the beach where all the sand migrated inside your shoes. A
     series of conflicting and confusing orders flowed down through the
     chain of command: halt and move on, halt and move on, go here, go
     there.

     The vast attack force now gathered at Pearl Harbor. Although there were 
unfortunate accidents to some of the landing craft, over 800 ships set out in 
the naval component, some for direct fire support of the troops, some for 
transport, and some (the fast carrier task force) to make advance air strikes 
and then to deal with the attack which the landing probably would incite from 
the Japanese Navy. Holland Smith's V Amphibious Corps, totalling 71,034 Marine 
and Army troops, sailed with some slow elements starting on 25 May. The 
specialized craft for the ground forces ran the gamut of acronym varieties. 
After staging through the Marshalls, the armada headed for the target: Saipan.

     At sea the troops got their final briefings: maps of the island (based on 
recent American aerial and submarine photographs of a hitherto "secret 
island"), estimates of 15,000 enemy troops (which turned out in the end to be 
30,000 under the command of Lieutenant General Yoshitsugu Saito and Vice 
Admiral Chiuchi Nagumo), and detailed attack plans for two Marine divisions.


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                        The Army 27th Infantry Division

     This division, before the national emergency was he dared in 1940, was 
   a State of New York National Guard organization. It contained many famous
   old regiments, some dating from the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. In 
   World War II, the division's 165th Infantry had been the renowned old 
   69th New York Infantry, also known as the "Fighting 69th" and "Fighting
   Irish" of World War I fame. The first unit of this regiment was organized
   in 1775.

     As the war in Europe grew in intensity, the Selective Service Act gave
   the President the power to federalize the National Guard. Thus, the 27th
   Division was activated by President Roosevelt on 25 September 1940. It 
   was first sent to Fort McClellan, Alabama, for intensive training, and
   then, in December 1941, to California.


     On 28 February 1942, the first elements of the division sailed from 
   San Francisco and landed at the town of Hilo on the "Big Island" of 
   Hawaii.  During the next two months, the division units were scattered
   throughout the island for local defense and training. That was the start 
   of the longest wartime overseas service of any National Guard division in
   the United States Army.

     In the fall of 1942, the division was directed to assemble on the 
   island of Oahu. MajGen Ralph C. Smith took over command at that time.  
   Then in midsummer 1943, orders came to prepare the 165th Infantry 
   Regiment, reinforced by a battalion of the 105th Infantry and an 
   artillery battalion, for an assault to capture the coral atoll of Makin,
   in the Gilbert Islands chain. Following a four-day battle there, in
   November 1943, the division furnished a battalion of the 106th Infantry 
   for the unopposed occupation of Majuro in the Marshall Islands in January
   1944.

     The final prelude to Saipan for units of the 27th came the next month.
   Two battalions of the 106th fought at Eniwetok Atoll in the Marshalls.

     After the division's struggle on Saipan, it went on to the battle for
   Okinawa in April 1945, and then to the occupation of Japan in September
   1945.

     The final chapter came in December 1946 when the 27th Infantry Division
   was deactivated.

                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                     The Army 27th Infantry Division Patch

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                                      7

     Simultaneously, the American fast carriers' planes began, on 11 June, 
their softening-up bombing, combined with attacks on Japanese land-based air. 
Two days later, the main enemy fleet headed for the Marianas for a decisive 
battle. Then, on 14 June, the "old battleships" of the U.S. Navy, reborn from 
the Pearl Harbor disaster, moved in close to Saipan to pound the Japanese 
defenses with their heavy guns. That night underwater demolition teams made 
their dangerous swim in close to the assault beaches to check on reefs, 
channels, mines, and beach defenses. All was now in readiness for the 
landings.

     The bloody business of D-Day was, as the troops well realized, only a 
beginning, for the long, gruelling fight which began the next morning.


                              D+1-D+2, 16-17 June

     The next two days saw the Marine attack resumed all along the irregular 
front. The 2d Division, after reorganizing, pushed its 6th Marines northeast 
toward Mount Tipo Pali, its 2d Marines north towards Garapan, and its 8th 
Marines east into the swamps around Lake Susupe. Direct contact with the 4th 
Division was finally established.

     Close combat was the norm. There were no exceptions for battalion 
commanders. Lieutenant Colonel Justice M. Chambers, commanding the 3d 
Battalion, 25th Marines in the 4th Division later described two of his 
experiences on D + 1:

        We came to a big bomb crater. The soil had all been thrown up,
     and around it there were three Marines protected by the dirt. I
     called up to one of these Marines and asked him what was going on.
     One of them said that there was an antiaircraft gun right down in
     front of them. I crawled up within two or three feet of the top of
     the dirt and raised up on my hands to see what was down there.

        Within about 25 to 30 yards, I was looking right into the muzzle
     of an 88mm antiaircraft/antitank gun. They had swung the damn thing
     around, and it was pointing right up the hill. I was looking right
     down its muzzle. I dropped as hard as I could and then the damn gun
     went off. The shell bore through the far side of the bomb crater,
     came through the dirt on the near side of the bomb crater where I
     was. It took the head off the Marine with whom I had been talking.
     The shell went on back and landed about 20 or 30 feet beyond us
     where it detonated.  Later that same day, he had another close call

        We had, as we had advanced, uncovered various Japanese supply
     caches. One of these was an ammunition dump .... About 1505 the
     Japs blew the large dump near where I was standing and caused
     numerous concussion casualties including myself.... I don't remember
     a thing about it. The boys tell me that, when the blast went off,
     I was thrown right up in the air, and I turned a complete flip and
     then landed on my face.

     On the night of D + 1, the Japanese again launched a major attack on the 
6th Marines, this time with 44 tanks. Major Donovan later described the wild 
clash: "The battle evolved itself into a madhouse of noise, tracers, and 
flashing lights. As tanks were hit and set afire, they silhouetted other tanks 
coming out of the flickering shadows to the front or already on top of the 
squads." The Marines poured in their fire, now with 2.36-inch rocket 
launchers, grenade launchers, self-propelled 75mm guns, and their own 
artillery and tanks adding to the din. When dawn broke, it was over and the 
shattered hulks of 24 Japanese tanks lay there smoking.

     In the 4th Division zone of action, the left regiment, the 23d, also had 
a difficult time in the Susupe swamp. The 24th and 25th 



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     Major General Harry Schmidt was the leader of the 4th Marine Division 
   in the assaults at Roi-Namur in the Marshall Islands and then at Saipan 
   in the Marianas.  Born in 1886, he entered the Corps as a second 
   lieutenant in 1909. By extraordinary coincidence, his first foreign duty
   was at Guam in the Marianas Islands, an area he would return to 33 years
   later under vastly different circumstances!

     The Philippines, Mexico, Cuba, and Nicaragua (where he was awarded a 
   Navy Cross-second only to the Medal of Honor), interspersed with repeated
   stays in China, were the marks of a diverse overseas career. At home 
   there were staff schools, paymaster duties, and a tour as Assistant
   Commandant.

     By the end of World War II, he had been decorated with three
   Distinguished Service Medals. Retiring in 1948 after 39 years of service,
   he was advanced to the four-star rank of general. His death came in 1968.

     A contemporary described him as "a Buddha, a typical old-time Marine:
   he'd been in China; he was regulation, Old Establishment, a regular
   Marine."


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                   Photograph of Major General Harry Schmidt

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                                      8



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     This Japanese soldier and tank are both permanent finished after
     an attack on Marine lines.


drove inland to the east towards the key objective of Aslito airfield. With a 
danger looming of overextended lines, Lieutenant General Holland Smith pulled 
the 165th Infantry out of his reserve (the Army's 27th Infantry Division) and 
sent it ashore on D+2 to reinforce the 4th Marine Division. This same day, 
Major General Ralph Smith came ashore to take command of the additional Army 
units of his 27th Division as they landed.

     With the 165th Infantry on its right flank and the 24th Marines to its 
left, the 25th Marines was poised on the north edge of Aslito airfield late on 
D+2. Its patrols found the strip was abandoned, but the 165th, assigned to 
capture it, decided to wait until the next day.

     The division had finally approached the O-1 line, except on the left 
flank where contact with the 2d Division was again broken, this time near 
Mount Fina Susu.

     This same day, 17 June, saw a crucial command decision by Admiral 
Spruance. With the power


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     Major General Thomas E. Watson, as a brigadier general and commander of
   Tactical Group-1, built on the 22d Marines, led his men in the conquest 
   of Eniwetok Atoll in the Marshall Islands in February 1944. For this he 
   was awarded a Distinguished Service Medal, and the 22d Marines was 
   awarded a Navy Unit Commendation.

     He took command of the 2d Marine Division in April 1944. In June he
   directed his men in the conquest of Saipan and then Tinian, receiving a
   second DSM.

     Retirement came in 1950, and he died in March 1966, as a lieutenant
   general.

     With a birth date of 1892, and an enlistment date of 1912, he fully
   qualified as a member of "the Old Corps." After being commissioned in 
   1916, he served in a variety of Marine assignments in the Caribbean, 
   China, and the United States.

     Given the nickname "Terrible Tommy," Watson's proverbial impatience 
   later was characterized by General Wallace M. Greene, Jr., as follows:

     "He would not tolerate for one minute stupidity, laziness, professional
   incompetence, or failure in leadership.... His temper in correcting these
   failings could be fiery and monumental," as both Marine and Army officers
   found out at Eniwetok and later Saipan!


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                 Photograph of Major General Thomas W. Watson



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                                      9


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                           Divisional Reorganization

     The training before Saipan was based on a new Table of Organization for
   the Marine Divisions.  Their size was reduced by 2,500 men to 17,465. The
   artillery regiments each lost one of its 75mm pack howitzer battalions, 
   but the infantry retained its previous units. Rifle squads, however, were
   organized to total 13, using three "fire teams" of four men with each 
   team built around a Browning automatic rifle (BAR), a 50 percent increase
   in the division of this valuable weapon. The number of 60mm mortars in the
   division table of equipment was similarly expanded, while the number of
   flamethrowers grew ten-fold. In addition, the tank battalions were able to
   replace their antiquated light tanks with mediums.

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ful main Japanese fleet now approaching Saipan, he ordered his fast carriers 
to meet the enemy ships, and that night withdrew his transports and supply 
ships from their offshore support positions to a safe distance from the 
Japanese threat.


                                 D+3, 18 June

     When the infantrymen ashore woke the next morning, they looked out in 
amazement at the empty ocean and a wave of uneasy questions raced through 
their minds: "Where in hell are our ships? What about food and ammunition 
we've got to have? Will we get back the daytime naval supporting gunfire and 
also the star shell illumination?" The men in frontline combat had no way of 
knowing that over 33,000 tons of cargo had already been unloaded when the 
ships withdrew.

     Both Marine divisions went on the attack, while the 105th Infantry joined 
the 165th on the far right flank, enabling Ralph Smith to put his 27th 
Division into motion to occupy Aslito airfield and attack along the southern 
coast.

     That same morning, 18 June, the 4th Marine Division attack objective was 
the seizure of the O-3 line. This would mean reaching the east coast of Saipan 
and splitting in two the Japanese forces. First, however, the 23d Marines, 
reinforced by a battalion of the 24th Marines, had to seize the portion of the 
O-2 line in its zone. This was to be the division's line of departure. The 
entire division with three infantry regiments abreast, jumped off at 1040.
At 1340 the 25th Marines had reached O-3. The 24th Marines had tank-led 
Japanese counterattacks on both flanks but was able to reach O-3 before dark.

     The 23d Marines, however, was stopped by intense enemy mortar and machine 
gun fire coming from southeast of Lake Susupe right on the boundary line 
between the two Marine divisions, making it unclear which division had 
responsibility for wiping out these enemy positions. At the same time, it was 
impossible to fire artillery on them for fear of hitting friendly troops. As a 
result, the 23d Marines suffered heavy casualties. So, by the end of the day, 
although all of the 4th Marine Division's regiments were in contact, a gap 
still existed between the two Marine divisions.

     The bizarre becomes commonplace in combat. For instance, one of the 23d 
Marines' 75mm half-tracks fired into a Japanese cave that day, and a dense 
cloud of noxious fumes came pouring out. A gas alarm was sounded. This meant 
serious trouble, for all the riflemen had long since jettisoned their 
burdensome gas masks. Relief flooded through the men as it was established 

that the fumes were not poisonous and came from picric acid the Japanese had 
stored in the cave.

     Over in the 2d Division's zone, the 8th Marines saw some bitter fighting 
over Hill 240. A heavily defended coconut grove required saturation fire from 
the artillery of the


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                              Ground Command List

   The Marine and Army units assigned to the Saipan operation were under 
   these senior commanders

   V Amphibious Corps - LtGen Holland M. Smith
     2d Marines - Col Walter J. Stuart
       6th Marines - Col James P. Riseley
       8th Marines - Col Clarence R. Wallace
       10th Marines - Col Raphael Griffin
       18th Marines - LtCol Russell Lloyd

     4th Marine Division - MajGen Harry Schmidt
       14th Marines - Col Louis G. DeHaven
       20th Marines - LtCol Nelson K. Brown
       23d Marines - Col Louis R. Jones
       24th Marines - Col Franklin A. Hart
       25th Marines - Col Merton J. Batchelder

     27th Infantry Division - MajGen Ralph C. Smith, USA
       105th Infantry - Col Leonard A. Bishop, USA
       106th Infantry - Col Russell G. Ayres, USA
       165th Infantry - Col Gerard W. Kelley, USA
       Division Artillery - BG Redmond F. Kernan, Jr., USA

   XXIV Corps Artillery - BG Arthur M. Harper, USA
   Saipan Garrison Forces - MajGen George W. Griner, USA

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                                      10

10th Marines before the riflemen could smash their way in and clean out the 
grove.

     The price for the two Marine divisions had been heavy. By the night of 
D+3 they had been bled by more than 5,000 casualties.


                              D+4-D+7, 19-22 June

     The most critical event of 19 June (and perhaps the most important of the 
whole Saipan campaign) took place at sea, well out of sight of the infantrymen 
ashore. The opposing carrier task forces clashed in a gigantic air battle. 
When it was over that night, the Japanese had suffered the catastrophic loss 
of 330 out of 430 planes they had launched. Exultant U.S. Navy fliers labelled 
it "The Great Marianas Turkey Shoot." With the help of American submarines and 
additional carrier plane attacks the next day, the Japanese attempt to relieve 
Saipan by a decisive naval victory was smashed. As an official account 
summarized the impact ashore, "the eventual doom of the enemy garrison was 
assured." And the American supply ships were able to return offshore to unload 
their vital cargoes.

     During the four-day span of D+4 to D+7, the 105th Infantry moved slowly 
along the south coast and then joined the 165th Infantry in sealing off the 
die-hard Japanese survivors in Nafutan Point, in the southeastern corner of 
the island. Once the enemy was penned in, the 105th was assigned to eliminate 
him. The rest of the 27th Division, now including the 106th Infantry, was 
ordered north to be the Corps reserve.

     This period, 19-22 June, marked a total shift in direction for the 
American troops. Pivoting on the 2d Marines on the far left flank along the 
western shore, the other Marine regiments swung around from their drive which 
had reached the east coast to face north, with their right flank on Magicienne 
Bay.

     On 20 June, the 4th Division confronted a key objective. Lieutenant 
Chapin had a ringside seat:

         We had a perfect chance to watch a battalion of the 25th
     making an attack .... It was in action about a quarter of a
     mile from us, and the whole panorama was spread out before us.
     They were assaulting Hill 500, the dominant terrain feature of
     the whole area, and it was apparent that they were running into a
     solid wall of Jap fire. But, using [artillery] timed fire, smoke,
     and tanks, they finally stormed the top


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                          Marine Artillery Regiments

     The 10th Marines and the 14th Marines supported the 2d and 4th Marine
   Divisions respectively. They had each had a significant reorganization
   before Saipan. In early spring, the 5th Battalion in each changed its
   designation. They were redesignated the 2d and 4th 155mm Artillery     
   Battalions, Corps Artillery, but administratively attached to the 10th 
   and 14th Marines. Thus the 10th and 14th Marines each contained two 75mm
   pack howitzer battalions (1st and 2d), two 105mm howitzer battalions (3d
   and 4th), and a 155mm artillery battalion, armed with the new M1 155mm
   howitzers, the first to be received by the Marine Corps in the Pacific.


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>



     Friendly artillery fire was a major asset for the American troops,
     both in supporting their attacks and smothering Japanese sorties.
     This camouflaged emplacement holds a Marine 105mm howitzer.

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                                      11



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                      23 Map of Saipan, 16 - 22 June 1944


     and took it. The use of those supporting arms provided a magnificent
     spectacle. From our vantage point, we could see the timed fire 
     bursting in cave entrances, and moving down the face of the hill as
     precisely as if .... it were going down a stepladder. On the lower
     levels, the flame-thrower tanks were spouting their napalm jets 
     upward into other caves. It was quite a sight!

     Over in the area of the 2d Division, the 8th Marines wheeled from facing 
east to attack northward into the foot hills leading to Mount Tapotchau.

     The Marine divisions were now facing two major problems. First, their 
drive north was confronted by General Saito's main line of defense, running 
west to east across the island. Secondly, the terrain into which the attack 
had to go was a nightmare of ravines, caves, hills, valleys, and cliffs -- all 
fortified and defended to the death by the Japanese.

     June 21 brought a respite for the front line troops: "D+6 was enjoyed by 
all -- for a change! We rested on our positions; caught up on sorely needed 
sleep; got some water (which had been conspicuous by its absence); and even 
had a good hot meal. For we got our first 10-in-1 rations. Did they ever taste 
good to our hungry palates, surfeited as they were with K rations!"

     Simultaneously, intensive preparations were made for a coordinated attack 
by both Marine divisions the next morning. A total of 18 artillery battalions 
were massed for supporting fire. Combat efficiency was officially rated as 
"very satisfactory," in spite of a sobering total of 6,165 casualties.

     The following day saw the Marines attack all along the line. The 6th 
Marines overran parts of Mount Tipo Pali, while the 8th Marines worked its 
painful way into the maze of ridges and gullies that formed the foothills of 
Mount Tapotchau. On the right, the 24th Marines was forced into the messy 
business of blasting caves honeycombed along Magicienne Bay. In one of the 
mortar platoons, a weird encounter took place, as described at the time to 
this author by the participant, First Lieutenant Joseph J. Cushing:

        [I] was bending over one of [my] mortars, checking the lay of
     it, when [I] felt a tap on my shoulder, and a guy asked [me],  
     "Hey, Mac, are you a Marine?" [I] turned around and there was a
     Jap officer standing about a foot from [me]. [I] dropped to the
     ground, speechless with amazement, and [my] men riddled the Jap
     from head to toe.

     On the left of the 4th Division, the 25th Marines made a major advance of 
2,400 yards. The forward lines were now reaching an area where the Kagman 
Peninsula jutted out to the east. This resulted in a substantially increased 
frontage that the two Marine divisions could not properly cover. To deal with 
this, Holland Smith decided to commit his reserve, the 27th Infantry Division, 
to the center of the line, leaving just one battalion of the 105th Infantry 
way back in the rear


                                      12



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     Still another cane field, with its hidden Japanese defenders lying
     in wait. confronts these Marine riflemen.


to continue its long drawn-out attempt to eliminate the Japanese pocket on 
by-passed Nafutan Point.

     This day (D+7) was also marked by the arrival of P-47 Thunderbolts of the 
19th Fighter Squadron, U.S. Army Air Forces, which landed at Aslito Field. 
They had been launched from Navy escort carriers.

     When landed, they were fitted with launching racks for rockets by ground 
crews who had come in earlier. Later that day, eight planes took off on their 
first support mission of the Saipan campaign. (Only two Marine observation 
squadrons, VMO-2 and VMO-4, were involved in the battle for Saipan, but they 
provided invaluable artillery spotting for the two Marine divisions.)

     While these developments were taking place in the upper echelons, down in 
the rock-bottom basic life of infantry platoons, the days of relentless combat 
pressure were exemplified by their impact on the constant duties and high 
stress levels on a platoon commander:

        I made a final inspection of the platoon position and then
     sacked exhausted. When it came my turn to stand watch, it took
     every last reserve of willpower and strength to get up and go on
     duty. Then for hours I alternated between fighting off my
     sleepiness and sweating out the noises and movements that were
     all around us.

        After a while, I spotted a shape, darker than the rest of the
     surrounding shadows. It was the size of a man's head. I watched it
     for a long time, nerves on edge, finger on my carbine trigger.
     Finally it seemed to move. I fired a shot. Nothing happened. It
     would've been suicide to go over and investigate. In that darkness
     and jungle my own men would've shot me in a second. So when it came
     time for my relief, I pointed out the suspicious object to the next
     man, told him to watch it closely, and collapsed into a dead-tired
     sleep.

        When dawn came on D+8, I was awakened, and the first thing I did
     was to look over where I'd shot on the night before. There, lying
     on top of a rock, was the gas mask of one of my men! The owner had
     been sleeping right beside it. It was a miracle he hadn't been
     hit. The tremendous strain of the previous night did funny things
     to your mind ....


                              D+8-D+15 23-30 June

     Complications of a serious nature arose in the execution of the battle 
plan for 23 June. The battalion of the 105th Infantry still had not cleaned 
out Nafutan Point; there were semantic and communications differences between 
the two Smith generals as to orders about who would do what and when; the 
106th and 165th Infantry got all tangled up in themselves during a march to 
take over the center portion of the American lines and were too late to jump 
off in the attack, thus delaying the attacks of the Marines. When the Army 
regiments did move out, they found that the rugged terrain in their sector and 
the determined enemy in camouflaged weapons positions in caves of the steep 
slope leading up to Mount Tapotchau made forward progress slow and difficult. 

The 27th Infantry Division was stalled.

     The corps commander, Holland Smith, was very displeased with this 
situation. It had started with the difficulties experienced in get-


                                      13

ting that division ashore; it was exacerbated by the time it was taking to 
secure Nafutan Point and the mix-up in orders there; now the advancing Marine 
divisions were getting infiltration and enfilading fire on their flanks 
because of the 27th's lack of progress.

     Accordingly, Lieutenant General Holland Smith met that afternoon with 
Major General Sanderford Jarman, USA, who was slated to be the island garrison 
commander, and asked him to press Major General Ralph Smith for much more 
aggressive action by the 27th. Jarman later stated:

        I talked to General (Ralph) Smith and explained the situation
     as I saw it and that I felt from reports from the corps commander
     that his division was not carrying its full share.  He immediately
     replied that such was true; that he was in no way satisfied with
     what his regimental commanders had done during the day and that he
     had been with them and had pointed out to them the situation. He
     further indicated to me that he was going to be present tomorrow,
     24 June, with his division when it made its jump-off and he would
     personally see to it that the division went forward.... He
     appreciated the situation and thanked me for coming to see him and
     stated that if he didn't take his division forward tomorrow he
     should be relieved.

     This blunt meeting was followed the next morning (D+9) by an even blunter 
message from Holland Smith to Ralph Smith:

        Commanding General is highly displeased with the failure of the
     27th Division on June twenty-third to launch its attack as ordered
     at King hour and the lack of offensive action displayed by the
     division in its failure to advance and seize objective O-5 when
     opposed by only small arms and mortar fire.

        The failure of the 27th to advance in its zone of action resulted
     in the halting of attacks by the 4th and 2d Marine Divisions on the
     flanks of the 27th in order to prevent dangerous exposure of their
     interior flanks. It is directed that immediate steps be taken to
     cause the 27th Division to advance and seize the objectives as ordered.

     These objectives were given dramatic names by the Army regiments: Hell's 
Pocket, Death Valley, and Purple Heart Ridge. It was certainly true that the 
terrain was perfect for the dug-in Japanese defenders: visibility from the 
slopes of Mount Tapotchau and from the ridge gave them fields of fire to rake 
any attack up the valley. Holland Smith didn't fully recognize the severity of 
the opposition, and, by the end of the day, the 106th Infantry had gained 
little, while the 165th Infantry had been "thrown back onto the original line 
of departure."

     Meanwhile, the 2d Marine Division on the left was painfully slugging its 
way forward in the tortuous environs around Mount Tapotchau. The 4th Marine 
Divi-


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     From left, BGen Merritt A. Edson, Assistant Division Commander of
     the 2d Marine Division, confers with Col James P. Riseley and LtCol
     Kenneth F. McLeod, 6th Marines commander and executive officer,
     respectively, during a pause in the action. LtCol McLeod was killed
     several days after this photograph.


                                      14

sion (on the right) pivoted east, driving fast into the Kagman Peninsula. 
There the ground was level, a plus, but covered with cane fields, a big minus, 
as the rifle companies well knew.

A platoon leader remarked:

        The terrain here consisted of countless cane fields -- one after
     another. And it was the same old story: in every field the company
     would lose a man or two. It was wonderfully quieting to the nerves
     to start into a growth of head-high cane, and wonder who would not
     be coming out on the other side! The Jap snipers who were doing the
     damage were dug in so deeply, and camouflaged so well, that it was
     impossible to locate them before they fired. And then it was too
     late; you were right on top of them, and they had nailed another
     one of your men -- or maybe you! Then there was always that next 
     cane field up ahead....

        Some of the fields had been burnt out by the napalm-bombing of
     our planes. This gave us greatly increased observation as we went
     through them, but clouds of choking dust arose from the ashes to
     plague us and dirty our weapons. With water so scarce, one of our
     chief sources of liquid sustenance was sugar cane juice. We'd whack
     off a segment of the cane with our combat knives, then chew and suck
     on it till only the dry fibers were left. In these burnt-out fields
     we weren't even able to do this, as the cane was spoiled and tasted
     lousy.

     Along with the death toll in the cane fields came the physical demands 
placed on the troops by the hot tropical climate. Lieutenant Chapin noted 
small, human issues that loomed large in the minds of the assault troops:

        All this time the sun was broiling down on top of us. Our
     canteens had been empty for hours. Everyone was absolutely
     parched.... Finally we did stop, as the effects of heat exhaustion
     and lack of water started to become apparent. [Our company commander]
     arranged for some water to be brought up to our position. When the
     cans arrived, everyone crowded thirstily around, and we had to order
     the men to disperse.... Then each platoon leader rationed out a can
     of the precious liquid amongst his men. As was the age-old Marine
     tradition, we waited till all our men had their share before we took
     ours. The water was lukewarm, rusty and oily as it came out of the
     cans, but it still tasted like nectar!

     While these local events transpired on the front lines, a major upheaval 
was taking place in the rear. Seeing that the corps line would be bent back 
some 1,500 yards in the zone of the 27th Infantry Division, Holland Smith had


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     This Marine is demonstrating the dimensions of a large enemy gun
     emplacement and undoubtedly giving thanks that the Japanese were
     not able to complete construction.


                                      15



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     As the fighting reached the interior of Saipan, the troops encountered
     difficult foliage and terrain which impeded their movement. Note the
     tops of the helmets of Marines peering from their foxholes.


had enough. He went to see Admirals Spruance and Turner to obtain permission 
to relieve Ralph Smith of command of his division.

     After reviewing the Marine general's deeply felt criticism of the 27th 
Infantry Division's "defective performance," the admirals agreed to the 
requested change, and Ralph Smith was superseded by Major General Jarman on 24 
June.

     A furor arose, with bitter interservice recriminations, and the flames 
were fanned by lurid press reports. Holland Smith summarized his feelings 
three days after the relief. According to a unit history, THE 27TH INFANTRY 
DIVISION IN WORLD WAR II, he stated, "The 27th Division won't fight, and Ralph 
Smith will not make them fight." Army generals were furious, and in Hawaii, 
Lieutenant General Robert Richardson, commander of the U.S. Army in the 
Pacific (USARPAC) convened an Army board of inquiry over the matter. The issue 
reached to the highest military levels in Washington.

     While the Army's Deputy Chief of Staff, Lieutenant General Joseph T. 
McNarney, reviewed the matter, he found some faults with Holland Smith, but 
then went on to say that Ralph Smith failed to exact the performance expected 
from a well-trained division, as evidenced by poor leadership on the part of 
some regimental and battalion commanders, undue hesitancy to bypass snipers 
"with a tendency to alibi because of lack of reserves to mop up," poor march 
discipline, and lack of reconnaissance.

     The Army's official summary, "United States Army in World War II, The War 
in the Pacific, Campaign in the Marianas" (published 15 years after the 
operations) attributed some errors to Holland Smith's handling of a real 
problem, and it also gave full recognition to the difficult terrain and bitter 
resistance that the Army regiments faced. The history stated that:

        . . .there is no doubt that the 106th Infantry Regiment of the
     27th Division was late in jumping off in the attack on the morning
     of 23 June -- even though not so late as Holland Smith charged. On
     the 23d and again on the 24th, the Army troops attacking Death
     Valley were slow and faltering in their advance. According to the
     testimony of General Jarman, who took over the division from Ralph
     Smith, the unit leaders of the 106th Infantry were hesitant and
     apparently confused. Although the Army troops in Death Valley
     sustained fairly heavy casualties, the two Marine divisions on the
     flanks suffered greater ones. Yet the Marines made considerable
     advances while the 165th Infantry registered only small gains -- 
     the 106th Infantry almost none at all.

        No matter what the extenuating circumstances were -- and there 
     were several -- the conclusion seems inescapable that Holland Smith 
     had good reason to be disappointed with the performance of the 27th
     Infantry Division on the two days in question....


                                      16

     Back where the conflict was with the Japanese, the 4th Marine Division 
had overrun most of the Kagman Peninsula by the night of D+10. The shoreline 
cliffs provoked sobering thoughts in a young officer in the 24th Marines:

        We were close to the northern shoreline of the peninsula. And 
     right there the Japs had dug a big emplacement. They hadn't had time 
     to finish it, but we could see that it was situated so as to fire 
     right down the beach-line. Any troops landing on that beach would 
     have received a terrible enfilading fire from this gun position. Not 
     far from the emplacement were the guns that had been destined to go 
     into it: huge, 5-inch, dual-purpose naval guns. They were deadly 
     things, and I was glad the enemy had never gotten them into action. 
     Now they lay there on their wooden skids, thickly coated with grease,
     wrapped in burlap-impotent.

     This unfinished state of the Japanese defenses was, in fact, a critical 
factor in the final American victory on Saipan. The blockading success of 
far-ranging submarines of the U.S. Navy had drastically reduced the supplies 
of cement and other construction materials destined for elaborate Saipan 
defenses, as well as the number of troop ships carrying Japanese 
reinforcements to the island. Then the quick success of the Marshalls campaign 
had speeded up the Marianas thrust by three months. This was decisive, for 
"one prisoner of war later said that, had the American assault come three 
months later, the island would have been impregnable."

     The 4th Marine Division encountered more than cane fields in the Kagman 
Peninsula -- the cliffs near the ocean were studded with caves. A 20-year-old 
private first class in Company E, 2d Battalion, 23d Marines, Robert F. Graf, 
described the Marine system for dealing with these and the others that were 
found all through the bitter campaign:

        The firepower was intense, and we were working our way up to where
     the shots originated. Quite often there would be multi cave openings,
     each protecting another. Laying down heavy cover fire, our specialist
     would advance to near the mouth of the cave. A satchel charge would
     then be heaved into the mouth of the cave, followed by a loud blast as
     the dynamite exploded. Other times it might be grenades thrown inside
     the cave, both fragment type which exploded sending bits of metal all


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>


     When a Japanese survivor did emerge from a cave, Marines were always
     on the alert for treachery. This enemy soldier had a stick of dynamite,
     but was shot before he could throw it.


                                      17

     throughout the cave, and other times [white] phosphorous grenades
     that burned the enemy.

        Also the flame thrower was used, sending a sheet of flame into the
     cave, burning anyone that was in its path. Screams could be heard and
     on occasions the enemy would emerge from the caves, near the entrance,
     we would call upon the tanks, and these monsters would get in real
     close and pump shells into the opening.

     Graf went on to picture the use of flame-throwing tanks, the ultimate 
weapon for dealing with the enemy deep in his hideouts. He continued:

        Some of the caves had artillery mounted on tracks that could be
     wheeled to the entrance, fired and pulled back, unobserved. There
     were caves with reinforced metal doors that protected them from our
     artillery. Perhaps a direct hit from a 16-inch naval gun could have
     blasted it open, but nothing else.

     A fellow rifleman from Graf's company told him this story:

        You should go up and see the huge cave that I was just in. It
     was large and contained a completely equipped operating room, all
     the medical equipment, surgical tools, etc. The tools were made
     from German surgical steel. When the battalion and regimental
     doctors were told about it, they almost went


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     Displaying the bazooka which knocked out four Japanese light tanks
     are bazooka men PFC Lauren N. Kahn, left, and PFC Lewis M. Nalder.
     The two Marines fired all their ammunition at Japanese tanks
     advancing in a counterattack on the night of D+1. Kahn then grabbed
     some grenades, approached one tank from the side, and tossed the
     grenade into its open turret. Their action saved a 37mm gun crew, the
     objective of the tank. The gun crew, with its men wounded, was also
     out of ammunition.


                                      18



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>


     Some of the Japanese caves, such as this one, had been carefully
     reinforced. Marine riflemen move warily to inspect it.


     crazy over finding such excellent equipment. Each doctor wanted
     some tools for his use.

     These attacks on caves were a tricky business, because of orders not to 
kill any civilians who were also inside many of them, hiding from the 
fighting. Graf recounted his experiences further:

        Throughout the campaign we were taking prisoners.

        Seldom were they Japanese soldiers, instead Korean and Chamorro
     laborers, both men and women, who mostly worked in the sugar cane
     fields and processing plants. Chamorros were natives of the islands,
     while the Koreans, of course, were brought over as forced labor.
     Approaching us, hands up, and smiling and bowing the Koreans would
     say in understandable broken English, "Me Korean, not Japanese." Some
     Japanese civilians were also captured. The Japanese tradition was
     that the male members of the family were the dominant members. Several
     times when we tried to feed newly captured women and children first,
     the male would shove them aside and demand to be first for rations.
     A few raps to the chest with a rifle butt soon cured them of that habit.

     As the sick, scared, and often starving civilians would emerge from their 
hideouts, there were many pitiful scenes:

        One sad incident I recall was when a captured civilian Japanese
     woman came up to me. She was crying and when she got close to me she
     started hitting me on the arm and pointing to my pack. I did not know
     what she wanted until an interpreter came over and explained that she
     wanted some food and water for her dead child. She pointed to a wicker
     basket that contained her dead infant. I gave her what she requested,
     and she placed the food and water in the basket so that the child
     could have nourishment on the way to meet the baby's ancestors.

        Physical conditions of many were pitiful. Every illness that we
     had been briefed on was observed: leprosy, dengue fever, yaws and
     many cases of elephantiasis. Most of them were skeleton thin, as
     they had no nourishment for many days. Many were suffering from
     shock caused by the shelling and bombing, and fright because they
     did not have the vaguest idea as to what we would do to them.
     Civilians caught in a war that was not of their making....


                                      19



                                <ILLUSTRATIONS>

                            <FIGURES NOT AVAILABLE>

  Marine talks a terrified Chamorro woman her children into leaving her 
refuge.



        Civilians are escorted back to safety, food, and medical care.



                                      20

     One of the captured persons impressed Graf so very much that the memory 
was vivid many years later. A Japanese woman, obviously an aristocrat, 
probably a wife or mistress of a high-ranking officer, "was captured. She was 
dressed in traditional Japanese clothing: a brilliant kimono, a broad sash 
around the waist, hair combed, lacquered and spotlessly clean. Although," as 
Graf remarked, "she knew not what her fate would be in the hands of us, the 
barbarians, she stood there straight, proud, and seemingly unafraid. To me, 
she seemed like a queen."

     Over on the west side of Saipan, the 2d Marine Division had a memorable 
day on 25 June. Ever since the landing, the towering peak of Mount Tapotchau 
had swarmed with Japanese artillery spotters looking straight down on every 
Marine move and then calling in precisely accurate fire on the American 
troops. Now, however, in a series of brilliant tactical maneuvers, with a 
battalion of the 8th Marines clawing up the eastern slope, a battalion of the 
29th Marines (then attached to the 8th Marines) was able to infiltrate around 
the right flank in single file behind a screen of smoke and gain the 
dominating peak without the loss of a single man.

     Meanwhile, back at Nafutan Point, the battalion of the 105th Infantry 
assigned to clean out the by-passed Japanese pockets had had continuous 
problems. The official Army account commented, "The attack of the infantry 
companies was frequently uncoordinated; units repeatedly withdrew from 
advanced positions to their previous night's bivouacs; they repeatedly yielded 
ground they had gained."

     The stalemate came to a climax on the night of D+11. Approximately 500 of 
the trapped Japanese, all the able-bodied men who remained, passed 
"undetected" or "sneaked through" (as the Army later reported) the lines of 
the encircling battalion. The enemy headed for nearby Aslito airfield and 
there was chaos initially there. One P-47 plane was destroyed and two others 
damaged. The Japanese quickly continued on to Hill 500, hoping to reunite 
there with their main forces. What they found instead was the 25th Marines 
resting in reserve with an artillery battalion of the 14th Marines. The 
escaping Japanese were finished off the following morning.

     On the front lines in the center of the island, General Jarman, now in 
temporary command of the 27th Infantry Division, took direct action that same 
day (D+11). An inspection by two of his senior officers of the near edge of 
Death Valley revealed that battalions of the 105th Infantry "were standing 
still when there was no reason why they should not move forward." That did it. 
Jarman relieved the colonel commanding the 106th and replaced him with his 
division chief of staff. (Nineteen other officers of the 27th Infantry 
Division were also relieved after the Saipan battle was over, although only 
one of them had commanded a unit in battle.)

     While these developments were taking place in the upper echelons, the 
junior officers in the front lines had their own, more immediate, daily 
concerns. As the author recalled:

        I had worked out a pre-sleep routine which I followed every
     night without fail. Before I lay down, I would make careful mental
     notes of where the company Command Post [CP] was and where my squad
     leaders' foxholes were. Then I would work out the rotation of the
     watches with my CP group. Next came a check of my carbine to make
     sure it was in perfect operating condition. When all this had been
     done, I'd lie down, adjusting my helmet to serve as a pillow. Last,
     and most important, was the placing of my weapons: my carbine lay
     across my body so my hand would fall naturally on the trigger; my
     combat knife was stuck in the ground where my right hand lay; and
     my grenades were carefully arrayed at my left hand. Then I'd drift
     off to sleep.


                                <ILLUSTRATION>


                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     The 37mm gun was a workhorse for the Marines in a wide variety of
     firing missions. Those are Japanese bullet holes in its "shield."



                                      21



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                       Map of Saipan, 23 - 30 June 1944


     For the next several days, the 27th Infantry Division probed and 
maneuvered and attacked at Hell's Pocket, Death Valley, and Purple Heart 
Ridge. On 28 June, Army Major General George W. Griner, who had been quickly 
sent from Hawaii upon the relief of Ralph Smith, took over command of the 
division, so Jarman could revert to his previous assignment as garrison force 
commander. The 106th marked the day by eradicating the last enemy resistance 
in the spot that had caused so much grief: Hell's Pocket.

     The 2d Marine Division meanwhile inched northward toward the town of 
Garapan, meeting ferocious enemy resistance. Tipo Pali was now in 6th Marines' 
hands. The 8th Marines encountered four small


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     A Marine 81mm mortar crew keeps lobbing shells into enemy positions
     ahead of the unit it supporting by fire.


                                      22



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     With the Japanese well dug in, hidden in their well camouflaged
     positions, a satchel charge of high explosive is tossed into their
     laps. If any of them bolt out, the Marine riflemen are ready.


hills strongly defended by the enemy. Because of their size in comparison with 
Mount Tapotchau, they were called "pimples." Each was named after a battalion 
commander. Painfully, one by one, they were assaulted and taken over the next 
few days.

     Near Garapan, about 500 yards to the front of the 2d Marines' lines, an 
enemy platoon on what was named "Flame Tree Hill" was well dug in, utilizing 
the caves masked by the bright foliage on the hill. The morning of 29 June, a 
heavy artillery barrage as well as machine gun and mortar fire raked the 
slopes of the hill. Then friendly mortars laid a smoke screen. This was 
followed by a pause in all firing. As hoped, the enemy raced from their caves 
to repel the expected attack. Suddenly the mortars lobbed high explosives on 
the hill. Artillery shells equipped with time fuses and machine gun and rifle 
fire laid down another heavy barrage. The enemy, caught in the open, was wiped 
out almost to a man.

     To the right, the 6th Marines mopped up its area and now held the most 
commanding ground, with all three of its battalions in favorable positions. In 
fact, since replacement drafts had not yet arrived, the 2d Marine Division had 
all three of its infantry regiments deployed on line. Thus it was necessary 
for its commander, Major General Watson, to organize a division reserve from 
support units.

     The pressure on manpower was further illustrated by the fact that, in 
this difficult terrain, "eight stretcher bearers were needed to evacuate one 
wounded Marine." In addition, there was, of course, the deep-seated 
psychological and physical pressure from the constant, day after day, close 
combat. "Everyone on the island felt the weight of fatigue settling down."


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>


     During a break in the fighting, Marines of a flamethrower and
     demolitions team pose with the Japanese flag captured during
     action after the American landing.


                                      23

     On the 4th Division front, the drive forward was easier, but its left 
flank had to be bent sharply backward toward the 27th Infantry Division. By 
nightfall on 28 June, the Marine division's lines formed an inverted L with 
the 23d Marines and part of the 165th Infantry facing north, while the rest of 
the Army regiment and two battalions of the 24th Marines faced west. This 
strange alignment was a focus of attention when each battalion was issued its 
nightly overlay from corps headquarters showing the lines of the corps at that 
time, so that friendly fire from artillery and supporting Navy destroyers 
would not hit friendly troops. Once again, enemy planes raided, hitting both 
the airfield and anchorage. As usual, enemy night patrols were active.

     The end of the saga of Nafutan Point, way to the rear, had come the day 
before (27 June). The Japanese breakout had left almost no fighting men behind 
there. Accordingly, the battalion of the 105th Infantry at last overran the 
area after enduring a final banzai charge. The soldiers found over 500 enemy 
bodies in the area, some killed in the charge and some by their own hand.

     D+15 (30 June) marked a good day for the Army. After fierce fighting, the 
27th Infantry Division finally burst through Death Valley, captured Purple 
Heart Ridge, and drew alongside the 8th Marines. Holland Smith gave due 
recognition: "No one had any tougher job to do." The gaps on the flanks with 
the 2d and 4th Marine Divisions were now closed. In doing so, the Army had 
sustained most of the 1,836 casualties inflicted upon it since D-Day. The 4th 
Marine Division, however, had suffered 4,454 casualties to date, while the 2d 
Marine Division had lost 4,488 men.

     The corps front now ran from Garapan, past the four pimples, to the 4th 
Marine Division's left boundary. Here, it ran sharply


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

             Moving on the double, Marines go yard by yard through
             skeletal Garapan, flushing out the Japanese defenders.


       Amidst the horrors of war, someone retained a sense of humor, and
       put up the pre-Word War II Marine recruiting poster in Garapan.


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>


                                      24



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                    Saipan, 2-4 July 1944, Progress at 1800


northward to Hill 700. From there it ran to the east coast. Central Saipan was 
in American hands. Most of the replenishment supplies had been unloaded. The 
enemy had begun withdrawing to his preplanned final defensive lines. The 
Army's official history summed up these days' costly victories this way, "The 
battle for central Saipan can be said to have come to a successful end."


                              D+16-D+19, 1-4 July

     Now Holland Smith turned his attention to operation plans to drive 
through the northern third of Saipan and bring the campaign to a successful, 
albeit a bloody, conclusion. His next objective line ran from Garapan up the 
west coast to Tanapag and then eastward across the island. Past Tanapag, near 
Flores Point, the 2d Marine Division would be pinched out and become the corps 
reserve. That would leave the 27th Infantry Division and the 4th Marine 
Division to assault General Saito's final defenses.

     The easiest assignment during this period fell to the 4th Marine Division 
on the east coast. It advanced 3,500 yards against light opposition, veering 
to its left, ending on 4 July with its left flank some 2,000 yards north of 
Tanapag, right on the west coast.

     As usual, what looked like "light opposition" to General Schmidt in his 
divisional CP looked very different to that tired, tense lieutenant who 
described a painfully typical rifle platoon situation on D+16:

        I took the rest of my men and we proceeded -- very cautiously -- 
     to comb the area. It was a terrible place: the rocks and creepers
     were so interwoven that they formed an almost impenetrable barrier;
     visibility was limited to a few feet. After what had happened to
     [my wounded sergeant], the atmosphere of the place was very tense.
     We located some rock crevices we thought the Japs might be in, and
     I tried calling to them in our japanese combat phrases to come out
     and surrender. This proved fruitless, and it let the Japs know
     exactly where we were, while we had no idea of their location. Then
     I tried to maneuver our flame  thrower man into a position where
     he could give the crevice a blast without becoming a sitting-duck
     target him-


                                      25



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     The only way to deal with some Japanese in their well-protected
     defenses was to blast them with a flame-thrower.


     self. Because of the configuration of the ground, this proved
     impossible.

        Right about now, there was a shot off to our left. We started
     over to investigate and all hell broke loose! A Jap automatic weapon
     opened up right beside us. We all hit the deck automatically. No one
     was hit (for a change), but we couldn't spot the exact location of
     the weapon (as usual). I called to the man who'd been over on the
     left flank. No answer. What had happened to him?

     At this point more enemy fire spattered around the small group of 
Marines. The source seemed to be right on top of them, so the lieutenant told 
two of his men to throw some grenades over into the area he thought the fire 
was coming from -- about 20 feet away. Under cover of that, the Marines worked 
a rifleman forward a couple of yards to try to get a bead on the Japanese, but 
he was unable to spot them and the enemy fire seemed to grow heavier.

     Now the lieutenant began to get very worried:

        Here we were -- completely isolated from the rest of the company --
     only half a dozen of us left -- our flank man had disappeared and now
     we were getting heavy fire from an uncertain number of Japs who
     were right in our middle and whom we couldn't locate! Some of the
     men were getting a little jittery I could see, so I tried to appear
     as calm and cool as I could (although I didn't feel that way
     inside!). I decided to move back to the other end of the hilltop and
     report to [our company commander] on the phone. If I could get his
     OK, I would then contact [another one of our platoons] for
     reinforcements, and we could move back into this area and clean out
     the Jap pocket.

     Pressing hard against the Japanese defenses constantly resulted in these 
kinds of face-to-face encounters. Three days later (D+19), Lieutenant Colonel 
Chambers observed a memorable act of bravery:

        Three of our tanks came along the road.... They made the turn
     to the south and then took the wrong turn, which took them off the
     high ground and into a cave area where there were literally hundreds
     of Japs, who swarmed all over


                                      26



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     He may have started out sitting on a dud 16-inch Navy shell, enjoying
     a smoke while emptying sand from his "boondockers," but by the end of
     the campaign, three weeks later, he had had too little sleep, too many
     fire fights, and too many buddies dead.


     the tanks. We were watching and heard on the radio that (the 
     lieutenant) who commanded the tanks was hollering for help, and I
     don't blame him. They had formed a triangle and covered each other
     with the co-axial guns as best as they could.

     The commanding officer of the 1st Battalion, 25th Marines, Lieutenant 
Colonel Hollis U. ("Musty") Mustain was nearest the crisis. Chambers went on:

        Mustain's executive officer was a regular major by the name of
     Fenton Mee. Musty and I were together, and when radio operators
     told us what was going on, Musty turned to Mee and said, "Get some
     people there and get those tanks out."

        Mee turned around to his battalion CP, who were all staff
     people. He just pointed and said, "Let's get going."  He turned
     and took off. I can still see his face -- he figured he was going
     to get killed. They got there and the Japs pulled out. This let
     the tanks get out, and they were saved. It was one of the bravest
     things I ever saw people do.

     Chambers also noted that, by D+19, out of 28 officers and 690 enlisted 
men in his rifle companies at the start of the campaign, he now had only 6 
officers and 315 men left in those companies. Counting his headquarters 
company, he had just 468 men remaining of the battalion's original total 
strength of 1,050, so one rifle company simply had to be disbanded. The grim 
toll was re-


                                      27



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                        Map of Saipan, 5 - 8 July 1944


peated in another battalion which had had 22 out of 29 officers and 490 
enlisted men either killed or rounded in action.

     Next to the 4th Marine Division was the 27th Infantry Division in the 
center of the line of attack. It, too, had a far easier time than in the 
grinding experiences it had just come through. Its advance also veered left, 
and was "against negligible resistance" with "the enemy in full flight." Thus 
it reached the west coast, pinching off the 2d Marine Division and allowing it 
to go into reserve.

     There was a different story in the 2d Marine Division zone of action at 
the beginning of this period. On 2 July Flametree Hill was seized and the 2d 
Marines stormed into Garapan, the second largest city in the Mariana Islands. 
What the regiment found was a shambles; the town had been completely leveled 
by naval gunfire and Marine artillery.

     The official Marine history pictures the scene:

        Twisted metal roof tops now littered the area, shielding
     Japanese snipers. A number of deftly hidden pillboxes were
     scattered among the ruins. Assault engineers, covered by
     riflemen, slipped behind such obstacles to set explosives
     while flamethrowers seared the front. Assisted by the
     engineers, and supported by tanks and 75mm self-propelled
     guns of the regimental weapons company, the 2d Marines beat
     down the scattered resistance before nightfall. On the beaches,
     suppressing fire from the LVT(A)s of the 2d Armored Amphibian
     Battalion Silenced the Japanese weapons located near the water.

        Moving past the town, the 2d Marine Division drove towards
     Flores Point, halfway to Tanapag. Along the way, with filthy
     uniforms, stiff with sweat and dirt after over two weeks of
     fierce fighting, the Marines joyfully dipped their heads and
     hands into the cool ocean waters.

     With the other two divisions already having veered their attack to the 
left and reached the northwest coast, the 2d Marine Division was now able to 
go into corps reserve, as planned, on 4 July. (Holland Smith, seeing the end 
in sight on Saipan, wanted this division rested for the forthcoming     
assault on neighboring Tinian Island.)

     The Japanese, meanwhile, were falling back to a final defensive line 
north of Garapan. The American attack of the preceding weeks had not only 
shattered their manpower, their artillery, and their tanks, but the enemy also 
was desperate for food. "Many of them had been so pressed for provisions that 
they were eating field grass and tree bark."


                                      28

                             D+20-D+23, 5-8 July

     Any Japanese "withdrawal" meant that some of their men were left behind 
in caves to fight to the death. This tactic produced again and again for the  
American troops the life-threatening question of whether there were civilians 
hidden inside who should be saved. There was a typical grim episode at this 
time for First Lieutenant Frederic A. Stott, in the 1st Battalion, 24th 
Marines:

        On this twenty-first day of the battle we trudged along
    a circuitous route to relieve the 23d Marines for an attack
    scheduled for 1300. A normal artillery preparation preceded
    it, followed by the morale-lifting rockets, but neither they
    nor mortar fire could eliminate many cave-dwelling Japs. And
    again the cost was heavy.  Using civilian men, women, and
    children as decoys, the Jap soldiers managed to entice a
    volunteer patrol forward into the open to collect additional
    civilian prisoners. A dozen men from A Company were riddled
    as the ruse succeeded.

     This kind of treacherous action by the Japanese was demonstrated in a 
different form on the following day (D+21).  Lieutenant Colonel Chambers 
described how he dealt summarily with it -- and, by contrast how his men 
treated genuine civilians who had been hiding:

        .... a few of the Japs had played possum by smearing blood
     of other Japs on themselves and lying still as the Marines came
     up. However, within the battalion my instructions were "if it
     didn't stink, stick it." [My officer] just laughed and said the
     Marines had bayoneted all the bodies. You had to do it!

        We also picked up several civilian prisoners, including some
     women and children. The thing that really got to me was watching
     these boys of mine; they'd take all kinds of risks; they'd go
     into a cave never knowing whether there would be soldiers in
     there, to bring out these civilians. The minute they got them
     out, they began to feed them, give them part of their rations,
     and offer their cigarettes to the men. It made you feel proud
     of the boys for doing this.

     Once the 2d Marine Division became corps reserve, it was obvious to 
General Smith that the time was ripe for a banzai attack. He duly warned all 
units to be alert, and paid a personal visit on 6 July to General Griner, of 
the 27th Infantry Division, to stress the likelihood of an attack coming down 
the coastline on the flat ground of the Tanapag Plain.

     General Saito was now cornered in his sixth (and last) command post, a 
miserable cave in Paradise Valley north of Tanapag. The valley was constantly 
raked by American artillery and naval gunfire; he had left only fragmentary 
remnants of his troops; he was himself sick, hungry, and wounded. After giving 
orders for one last fanatical banzai charge, he decided to commit hara-kiri in 
his cave. At 10a.m. on 6 July, fac-


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     A salvo from the truck-mounted rockets was a welcome prelude to any
     Marine attack.


                                      29


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                           Medal of Honor Recipients


     Private First Class Harold Christ Agerholm was born on 29 January 1925, 
in Racine, Wisconsin. "For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk 
of his life above and beyond the call of duty while serving with the Fourth 
Battalion, Tenth Marines, Second Marine Division, in action against enemy 
Japanese forces on Saipan, Marianas Islands, 7 July 1944. When the enemy 
launched a fierce, determined counterattack against our positions and overran 
a neighboring artillery battalion, Private First Class Agerholm immediately 
volunteered to assist in the effort to check the hostile attack and evacuate 
our wounded. Locating and appropriating an abandoned ambulance jeep, he 
repeatedly made extremely perilous trips under heavy rifle and mortar fire and 
single-handedly loaded and evacuated approximately 45 casualties, working 
tirelessly and with utter disregard for his own safety during a gruelling 
period of more than 3 hours. Despite intense, persistent enemy fire, he ran 
out to aid two men whom he believed to be wounded Marines, but was himself 
mortally wounded by a Japanese sniper while carrying out his hazardous 
mission. Private First Class Agerholm's brilliant initiative, great personal 
valor and self-sacrificing efforts in the face of almost certain death reflect 
the highest credit upon himself and the United States Naval Service. He 
gallantly gave his life for his country.


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                     Photograph of Harold Christ Agerholm



     Private First Class Harold Glenn Epperson was born on 14 July 1923, in 
Akron, Ohio. "For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his 
life above and beyond the call of duty while serving with the First Battalion, 
Sixth Marines, Second Marine Division, in action against enemy Japanese forces 
on the Island of Saipan in the Marianas, on 25 July 1944. With his machine-gun 
emplacement bearing the full brunt of a fanatic assault initiated by the 
Japanese under cover of predawn darkness, Private First Class Epperson manned 
his weapon with determined aggressiveness, fighting furiously in the defense 
of his battalion's position and maintaining a steady stream of devastating 
fire against rapidly infiltrating hostile troops to aid ... in breaking the 
abortive attack. Suddenly a Japanese soldier, assumed to be dead, sprang up 
and hurled a powerful hand grenade into the emplacement. Determined to save 
his comrades, Private First Class Epperson unhesitatingly chose to sacrifice 
himself and, diving upon the deadly missile, absorbed the shattering violence 
of the exploding charge in his own body. Stout-hearted and indomitable in the 
face of certain death, Private First Class Epperson fearlessly yielded his own 
life that his able comrades might carry on .... His superb valor and 
unfaltering devotion to duty throughout reflect the highest credit upon 
himself and upon the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life 
for his country."


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                             Harold Glenn Epperson




     Sergeant Grant Frederick Timmerman was born on 14 February 1919, in 
Americus, Kansas. "For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of 
his life above and beyond the call of duty as Tank Commander serving with the 
Second Battalion, Sixth Marines, Second Marine Division, during action against 
enemy Japanese forces on Saipan, Marianas Islands, on 8 July 1944. Advancing 
with his tank a few yards ahead of the infantry in support of a vigorous 
attack on hostile positions, Sergeant Timmerman maintained steady fire from 
his antiaircraft sky mount machine gun until progress was impeded by a series 
of enemy trenches and pillboxes. Observing a target of opportunity, he 
immediately ordered the tank stopped and, mindful of the danger from the 
muzzle blast as he prepared to open fire with the 75mm, fearlessly stood up in 
the exposed turret and ordered the infantry to hit the deck. Quick to act as a 
grenade, hurled by the Japanese, was about to drop into the open turret hatch, 
Sergeant Timmerman unhesitatingly blocked the opening with his body, holding 
the grenade against his chest and taking the brunt of the explosion. His 
exceptional valor and loyalty in saving his men at the cost of his own life 
reflect the highest credit upon Sergeant Timmerman and the United States Naval 
Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country. 

                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

                    Photograph of Grant Frederick Timmerman


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                                      30


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                                Navy Chaplains

      Two types of non-combatants are attached to Marine units; members of
   the Navy Medical Corps and Navy Chaplain Corps. Whenever the Marine are 
   in combat, they are well tended in body and soul on the front lines. Navy
   Lieutenant John H. Craven, Chaplain Corps, earned the Bronze Star for his
   actions under fire on Saipan, later he summarized activities:

     "In combat our main action was to go from place to place, unit to unit,
   and start out early in the morning and go till dark, just visiting one 
   unit after the other and many times just have a very brief service. We 
   had some very small hymn books... and some Testaments I could carry in my
   map case, and we would just gather a few men together in a bomb crater or
   defilade... and I would have one service after the other. Sometimes we 
   had twelve, thirteen, or fourteen of those in one day, especially on
   Sunday....

     "Then we had to take our turn at the cemetery. Each chaplain from
   different units would go down and take his turn for burial. We had a 
   brief committal service for each one as they brought the bodies in. And I
   set myself up to try to keep up with all of the men of our units: where
   they were, whether they were in the hospital. I worked closely with a
   sergeant major and it was amazing how we were able to keep up with men,
   and when they were killed and when and where they were buried."

     When Chaplain Craven and the other chaplains returned to the rear areas 
with their units, they started writing letters to the families of everyone who 
was killed in the regiment, and added their letters to those the commanding 
officers were required to write.

     One regimental chaplain used a special type of ministration. He had a 
canvas gas-mask carrier slung over each shoulder. In one carrier he had Scotch 
whiskey, in the other fried chicken. As he knelt by each young frightened, 
wounded Marine, he was invariably asked, "Am I going to be O.K.?" "Sure you 
are!" was the cheerful answer. "While you are waiting to be evacuated, would 
you rather have a drumstick or a wing?" The young Marine would be so surprised 
he would forget about himself. Then, when the chaplain asked if he wanted to 
wash it down with a swig of Scotch, he couldn't believe he was hearing 
correctly amidst all the confusion, noise, and death all around him.

     A young doctor, hearing about this chaplain, said, "That man probably 
saved more young lives from dying of shock than will ever be known."


                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

              The Saipan cemetery was dedicated after the battle.


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ing east and crying "Tenno Haika! Banzai! [Long live the Emperor! Ten thousand 
ages!]," he drew his own blood first with his own sword and then his adjutant 
shot him and Admiral Nagumo in the head with a pistol, but not before he said, 
"I will meet my staff in Yasakuni Shrine 3 a.m., 7 July!" This was to be the 
time ordered for the commencement of the final attack.

     The ultimate outcome was clear to Saito: "Whether we attack, or whether 

we stay where we are, there is only death."

     The threat of a mad, all-out enemy charge was nothing new to the troops 
on Saipan. A rifleman recounted one such experience:

        Whenever we cornered the enemy and there was no way out, we faced
     the dreaded banzai attack. The 23d Marines had a few of these during
     our Saipan adventure, as did all the other outfits. I dreaded these
     attacks and yet welcomed them, which is quite a paradox. They
     generated a great deal of fear but, when it was over, that particular
     sector was Jap-free.

        For hours, we could hear them preparing for their banzai attack,
     as it was the end for them and they knew it. Because it was against
     their heritage, their training, and their belief, they would not
     surrender. All that was left was a final charge, a pouring in of
     all their troops in one concentrated place with their pledge to
     take as many of us with them as possible.

     His account continued with a dramatic description of the tense waiting he 
endured, while he lis-


                                      31



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

       Navy corpsmen risked their lives daily to treat wounded Marines.


tened to the enemy "yells and screams going on for hours." The noise increased 
as Marine artillery and mortars, pounding in the direction of the Japanese 
sounds, added to the deafening din. The Marines were waiting in their foxholes 
with clips of ammo placed close at hand so that they could reload fast, fixing 
their bayonets onto their rifles, ensuring that their knives were loose in 
their scabbard all in anticipation of the forthcoming attacks. Listening to 
the screaming, all senses alert, many of the men had prayers on their lips as 
they waited. Unexpectedly, there was silence, a silence that signaled the 
enemy's advance. Then:

        Suddenly there is what sounded like a thousand people screaming
     all at once, as a hoard of "mad men" broke out of the darkness before
     us. Screams of "Banzai" fill the air, Japanese officers leading the
     "devils from hell," their swords drawn and swishing in circles over
     their heads. Jap soldiers were following their leaders, firing their
     weapons at us and screaming "Banzai" as they charged toward us.

        Our weapons opened up, our mortars and machine guns fired
     continually. No longer do they fire in bursts of three or five. Belt
     after belt of ammunition goes through that gun, the gunner swinging
     the barrel left and right. Even though Jap bodies build up in front
     of us, they still charged us, running over their comrades' fallen
     bodies. The mortar tubes became so hot from the rapid fire, as did
     the machine gun barrels, that they could no longer be used.

        Although each [attack] had taken its toll, still they came in
     droves. Haunting memories can still visualize the enemy only a few
     feet away, bayonet aimed at our body as we empty a clip into him.
     The momentum carries him into our


                                      32



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     The cost of battle. Fellow Marines mourn as a buddy is to be buried.


     foxhole, right on top of us. Then pushing him off, we reload
     and repeat the procedure.  Bullets whiz around us, screams are
     deafening, the area reeks with death, and the smell of Japs and
     gunpowder permeate the air. Full of fear and hate, with the desire
     to kill.... [Our enemy seems to us now to be] a savage animal, a
     beast, a devil, not a human at all, and the only thought is to kill,
     kill, kill....Finally it ends.

     This was the wild chaos that General Smith predicted as the final 
convulsive effort of the Japanese. And it came indeed in the early morning 
hours of 7 July (D+22), the climactic moment of the battle for Saipan. The 
theoretical Japanese objective was to smash through Tanapag and Garapan and 
reach all the way down to Charan-Kanoa. it was a "fearful charge of flesh and 
fire, savage and primitive.... Some of the enemy were armed only with rocks or 
a knife mounted on a pole."

     The avalanche hit the 105th Infantry, dug in for the night with two 
battalions on the main line of resistance and the regimental headquarters 
behind them. However, those two forward battalions had left a 500-yard gap 
between them, which they planned to cover by fire.

     The Japanese found this gap, poured through it, and headed pell-mell for 
the regimental headquarters of the 105th. The men of the frontline battalions 
fought valiantly but were unable to stop the banzai onslaught.

     Three artillery battalions of the 10th Marines behind the 105th were the 
next target. The gunners could not set their fuses fast enough, even when cut 
to four-tenths of a second, to stop the enemy right on top of them. So they 
lowered the muzzles of their 105mm howitzers and


                                      33



                                <ILLUSTRATION>

                            <FIGURE NOT AVAILABLE>

     A Marine moves out to catch up with his unit after he has covered
     a dead comrade with a poncho liner and marked his position with his
     bayoneted rifle.


spewed ricochet fire by bouncing their shells off the foreground. Many of the 
other guns could not fire at all, since Army troops ahead of them were 
inextricably intertwined with the Japanese attackers. However, other Marines 
in the artillery battalions fired every type of small weapon they could find. 
The fire direction center of one of their battalions was almost wiped out, and 
the battalion commander was killed. The cane field to their front was swarming 
with enemy troops.

     The guns were overrun and the Marine artillerymen, after removing the 
firing locks of their guns, fell back to continue the fight as infantrymen.

     The official history of the 27th Infantry Division recounts sadly the 
reactions of its fellow regiments when the firestorm broke on the 105th. The 
men of the nearby 165th Infantry chose that morning to "stand where they were 
and shoot Japs without any effort to move forward." By 1600 that afternoon, 
after finally starting to move to the relief of the shattered 105th, the 165th 
"was still 200 to 300 yards short" of making contact. This tardiness was 
unfortunately matched by "the long delay in the arrival of the 106th Infantry" 
to try to shore up the battered troops of the 105th.

     The extraordinarily bitter hand-to-hand fighting finally took the 
momentum out of the Japanese surge, and it was stopped at last at the CP of 
the 105th some 800 yards


                                      34

south of Tanapag. By 1800 most of the ground lost had been regained.

     It had been a ghastly day. The 105th Infantry's two battalions had 
suffered a shocking 918 casualties while killing 2,295 Japanese. One of the 
Marine artillery battalions had 127 casualties, but had accounted for 322 of 
the enemy. A final count of the Japanese dead reached the staggering total of 
4,311, some due to previous shell-fire, but the vast majority killed in the 
banzai charge.

     Amidst the carnage, there had been countless acts of bravery. Two that 
were recognized by later awards of the Army Medal of Honor were the leadership 
and "resistance to the death" of Army Lieutenant Colonel William J. O'Brien, 
commander of a battalion of the 105th Infantry, and one of his squad leaders,  
Sergeant Thomas A. Baker.

     Three Marines each "gallantly gave his life in the service of his 
country" and were posthumously awarded the Navy Medal of Honor. They were 
Private First Class Harold C. Agerholm, Private First Class Harold G. 
Epperson, and Sergeant Grant F. Timmerman.

     The 3d Battalion, 10th Marines, which had fought so tenaciously in the 
banzai assault, received the Navy Unit Commendation. Four years later, the 
105th Infantry and its attached tank battalion were awarded the Army 
Distinguished Unit Citation.

     While attention centered on the bloody battle on the coast, the 23d 
Marines was attacking a strong Japanese force well protected by caves in a 
cliff inland. The key to their elimination was an ingenious improvisation. In 
order to provide fire support, truck-mounted rocket launchers were lowered 
over the cliff by chains attached to tanks. Once down at the base, their fire, 
supplemented by that of rocket gunboats off shore, snuffed out the enemy 
resistance.

     The next day, D+23, 8 July, saw the beginning of the end. The Japanese 
had spent the last of their unit manpower in the banzai charge; now it was 
time for the final American mop-up. LVTS rescued men of the 105th Infantry who 
had waded out from the shore to the reef to escape the Japanese. Holland Smith 
then moved most of the 27th Infantry Division into reserve, and put the 2d 
Marine Division back on the line of attack, with the 105th Infantry attached. 
Together with the 4th Marine Division, they swept north towards the end of the 
island.

     Along the coast there were bizarre spectacles that presaged a macabre 
ending to the campaign. The official Marine history pictured the scene:

        The enemy pocketed in the area had destroyed themselves
     in suicidal rushes from the high cliffs to the rocky beach
     below. Many were observed, along with hundreds of civilians,
     wading out into the sea and permitting themselves to be drowned.
     Others committed hara-kiri with knives, or killed themselves
     with grenades. Some officers, using their swords, decapitated
     many of their troops.


                                 D+24, 9 July

     It was to be the final day of a long, grueling campaign. The 6th and 8th 
Marines came down from the hills to the last western beaches, while the 4th 
Marine Division, with the 2d Marines attached, reached Marpi Point, the 
northern end of the island.

     There a final drama of horror was played out. Lieutenant Colonel Chambers 
watched, amazed:

        During this day as we moved along the cliffs and caves, we

     uncovered civilians all the time. The Jap soldiers would not
     surrender, and would not permit the civilians to surrender. I
     saw with my own eyes women, some carrying children, come out
     of the caves and start toward our lines. They'd be shot down by
     their own people. I watched any number of women carrying children
     come down to the cliffs that dropped to the ocean.

        They were very steep, very precipitous. The women would come
     down and throw the children into the ocean and jump in and commit
     suicide. I watched one group at a distance of perhaps 100 yards,
     about eight or ten civilian men, women and children get into a
     little huddle and blow themselves up.... It was a sad and terrible
     thing, and yet I presume quite consistent with the Japanese rules
     of Bushido.

        Lieutenant Stott in that same division witnessed other unbelievable 
forms of self-destruction:

        Interpreters were summoned, and they pleaded by amplifier
     for the civilians to come forward in surrender. No movement
     followed... The people drew closer together into a compact mass.
     It was still predominantly civilians, but several in uniform
     could be distinguished circling about in the throng and using
     the civilians for protection. As they huddled closer, sounds of
     a weird singing chant carried up to us. Suddenly a waving flag
     of the Rising Sun was unfurled. Movement grew more agitated;
     men started leaping into the sea, and the chanting gave way to
     startled cries, and with them the popping sound of detonating
     grenades. It was the handful of soldiers, determined to prevent
     the surrender or escape of their kinfolk, who


                                      35

     tossed grenades into the milling throng of men, women, and
     children, and then dived into the sea from which escape was
     impossible. The exploding grenades cut the mob into patches of
     dead, dying, and wounded, and for the first time we actually
     saw water that ran red with human blood.

     With this kind of fanaticism characterizing the Japanese, it is not 
surprising that 23,811 of the enemy were known dead, with uncounted thousands 
of others charred by flamethrowers and sealed forever in their caves. Only 736 
prisoners of war were taken, and of these 438 were Koreans. American 
casualties numbered 3,225 killed in action, 13,061 wounded in action, and 326 
missing in action.

     The island was officially declared "secured" at 1615 on 9 July (although 
"mopping up" continued afterwards). The 4th Marine Division was later awarded 
the Presidential Unit Citation for its "outstanding performance in combat" on 
Saipan and its subsequent assault on the neighboring island of Tinian.


                                Saipan's Legacy

     The campaign on Saipan had brought many American casualties, and it also 
heralded the kind of fighting which would be experienced in subsequent 
operations in the Central and Western Pacific in the days that day ahead in 
the Pacific War. Holland Smith declared it "the decisive battle of the Pacific 
offensive" for it "opened the way to the home islands." Japanese General Saito 
had written that "the fate of the Empire will be decided in this one action." 
A Japanese admiral agreed, "Our war was lost with the loss of Saipan." It had 
truly been a "strategic strike" for the United States.

     The proof of these fundamental judgements was dramatized four months 
later, when 100 B-29 bombers took off from Saipan bound for Tokyo.

     There were other fateful results. The United States now had a secure 
advanced naval base for further punishing strikes close to enemy shores. 
Emperor Hirohito was now forced to consider a diplomatic settlement of the 
war. The militaristic General Tojo, the Premier, and his entire cabinet fell 
from power on 18 July, nine days after Saipan's loss.

     The lessons learned in this campaign would be observed in future American 
operations, as flaws were analyzed and corrected. The clear need to improve 
aviation support for the ground troops led directly to the better results in 
the Philippine Islands and on Iwo Jima and Okinawa. The artillery-spotting 
missions flown by VMO-2 and -4, set a pattern for the use of the light planes 
in the future.

     Naval gunfire support was also closely reviewed. General Saito had 
written, "If there just were no naval gunfire, we feel we could fight it out 
with the enemy in a decisive battle." While more than 8,500 tons of ammunition 
were fired by U.S. Navy ships, the flat trajectory of the naval guns "proved 
somewhat limiting," as the shells didn't have the plunging and penetrating 
effect which was needed against Japanese strongholds.

     Finally, there were lessons learned from the supply confusion that had 
marred the early days on the beaches and hadn't improved much since the days 
of the Guadalcanal landing. Logistic problems had arisen because, once a beach 
was in friendly hands, the ships were unloaded as rapidly as possible and the 
sailors in the landing craft were in a hurry to get into the beaches and back 
out again. Supplies were spread all over the beach, partly because of the 
enemy's artillery and mortar harassing fire on the beaches, but also because 
of the corps' hard-driving, rapid attack, the estimate of resupply 
requirements was far too small. For example, a shortage of radio batteries was 
never corrected. There was insufficient time to sort and separate equipment 
and supplies adequately. Consequently, there were mix-ups, with Marine 
uniforms getting into Army dumps and Army supplies showing up in Marine dumps.


     It was after the beach confusion at Saipan that the Navy decided a 
permanent corps shore party should be organized. It would be solely 
responsible for the movement of all supplies from the beach to the dumps and 
for the subsequent issue to the divisions.

     Tactical lessons learned were also new to the Central Pacific war. 
Instead of a small atoll, the battle had been one of movement on a sizable 
land mass, and it was further complicated by the numerous caves and the 
defensive systems they provided for the Japanese. The enemy had defended caves 
before, but never on such a large scale. On Saipan, these caves were both 
natural and man-made. Often natural vegetation gave them excellent camouflage. 
Some had steel doors which could be opened for an artillery piece or machine 
gun to fire, and then retreat behind the door before return fire could take 
effect. The flame-throwing tanks could reach many of these caves and so proved 
very useful. Unfortunately, their range was limited on Saipan, but this was 
later improved.

     Thus it was that the hard experiences on Saipan led to a variety of 
changes which paid valuable dividends in saving American lives in the future 
Pacific campaigns. And the loss of the island was a strategic strike from 
which the Japanese never recovered, as the United States drove forward to 
ultimate victory.


                                      36

                                    Sources

     There are five principal official sources for the facts about the unit 
actions on Saipan. These range from preliminary, condensed accounts to 
massive, detailed final studies which reach down to the level of company 
operations. In the interests of brevity, the author of this monograph has 
limited himself to covering the actions of regiments and divisions, with minor 
special exceptions.

     The five sources are:

     1) Henry I. Shaw, Jr., Bernard C. Nalty, and Edwin T. Turnbladh, "Central 
Pacific Drive, vol. 3, History of U.S. Marine Corps Operations in World War 
II" (Washington: Historical Branch, G-3 Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine 
Corps, 1966).

     2) Philip A. Crowl, "Campaign in the Marianas, vol 9., United States Army 
in World War II, The War in the Pacific" (Washington: Office of the Chief of 
Military History, Department of the Army, 1960).

     3) Maj Carl W. Hoffman, USMC "Saipan: The Beginning of the End" 
(Washington: Historical Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1950).

     4) Capt James R. Stockman, USMC, "Campaign for the Marianas" (Washington: 
Historical Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1946).

     5) Capt Edmund G. Love, USA, "The 27th Infantry Division in World War II" 
(Washington: Infantry Journal Press, 1949).

     In addition, there is a wide variety of other literature on the Saipan 
operation. This material ranges from a 19-page essay by a Naval Academy mid 
shipman, to first-hand accounts appearing in the "Marine Corps Gazette," to 
wildly subjective books dealing with individual experiences or the "Smith vs 
Smith" controversy.

     To supplement the framework of unit tactics, vignettes of individuals 
have been drawn from two principal sources:

     1) The Personal Papers Collection of the Marine Corps Historical Center 
has useful memoirs, particularly those of Frederick A. Stott (473-4A32), John 
C. Chapin (671-4A44), and Robert E. Graf (1946-6B12).

     2) In the Center's Oral History Collection, the author examined well over 
a dozen reminiscences and found only four that involved front-line 
experiences: Lieutenant Colonel Justice M. Chambers, USMCR (C2); Captain Carl 
W. Hoffman, USMC, (H2); Lieutenant Colonel William K. Jones, USMC, (J2); and 
Lieutenant John H. Craven, ChC, USN, (C3).


                               About the Author

     Captain John C. Chapin earned a bachelor of arts degree with honors in 
history from Yale University in 1942 and was commissioned later that year. He 
served as a rifle platoon leader in the 24th Marines, 4th Marine Division, and 
was wounded in action during the assault landings on Roi-Namur and Saipan.

     Transferred to duty at the Historical Division, Headquarters Marine 
Corps, he wrote the first official histories of the 4th and 5th Marine 
Divisions. Moving to reserve status at the end of World War II, he earned a 
masters degree in history at George Washington University with a thesis on 
"The Marine Occupation of Haiti, 1915-1922."

     Now a captain in retired status, he has devoted major portions of 10 
years to writing history as a volunteer at the Marine Corps Historical Center. 
His first publication there was an official monograph, "A History of 

VMFA-115," for one of the Marine Corps' better-known squadrons. With support 
from the Historical Center and the Marine Corps Historical Foundation, he then 
spent some years researching and interviewing for the writing of a new book, 
"Uncommon Men --The Sergeants Major of the Marine Corps." This was published 
by the White Mane Publishing Co.

     Acknowledgement is gratefully made to Lieutenant General William K. 
Jones, USMC (Ret), for his first draft of an account of the Saipan operation.



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WORLD WAR II


THIS PAMPHLET HISTORY, one in a series devoted to U.S. Marines in the World 
War II era, is published for the education and training of Marines by the 
History and Museums Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, Washington, 
D.C., as a part of the U.S. Department of Defense observance of the 50th 
anniversary of victory in that war.

     Editorial costs of preparing this pamphlet have been defrayed in part by 
a bequest from the estate of Emilie H. Watts, in memory of her late husband, 
Thomas M. Watts, who served as a Marine and was the recipient of a Purple 
Heart.

                       WORLD WAR II COMMEMORATIVE SERIES

                 DIRECTOR OF MARINE CORPS HISTORY AND MUSEUMS
                Brigadier General Edwin H. Simmons, USMc (Ret)

                                GENERAL EDITOR,
                       WORLD WAR II COMMEMORATIVE SERIES
                                Benis M. Frank

                            CARTOGRAPHIC CONSULTANT
                            George C. MacGillivray

           EDITING AND DESIGN SECTION, HISTORY AND MUSEUMS DIVISION
     Robert E. Struder, Senior Editor; W. Stephen Hill, Visual Information
        Specialist; Catherine A. Kerns, Composition Services Technician

                        Marine Corps Historical Center
                       Building 58, Washington Navy Yard
                          Washington, D.C. 20374-5040

                                     1994

                               PCN 190 003123 00