Letter from Eniwetok

[jacobtowne]

Eniwetok


Eniwetok Atoll was the second and final large objective in the Marshalls, bringing that campaign to a much swifter and less costly conclusion than anyone had expected.
By the end of April, the surviving Japanese, about 13,000, held only the bypassed islands of Maloelap, Wotje, Mille, and Jaluit.

Footholds in the Gilberts and Marshalls would support Adm. Nimitz’s next target, the Marianas.

Quick win or not, fighting on the Marshalls was not easy. The following letter from a young Marine officer describes his experiences on Eniwetok and Parry islands.


For the assault troops, it was a continuing story of "spider holes," tunnels, underground strong points, and enemy resistance to the death. A young Marine, Second Lieutenant Cord Meyer, Jr., in his first combat, fought on both Eniwetok and Parry. The grueling experiences he had were typical of everyone who took part in these battles. He was landed with his machine gun platoon in the second wave of assault troops, three minutes after the first men to hit the beach on Eniwetok Island. Moving quickly inland, the platoon came to the edge of a blasted coconut grove. Then, as the lieutenant later wrote home:

“We were hard hit there, and with terrible clarity the reality of the event came home to me. I had crawled forward to ask a Marine where the Japs were—pretty excited really and enjoying it almost like a game. I crawled up beside him but he wouldn't answer. Then I saw the ever widening pool of dark blood by his head and knew that he was dying or dead. So it came over me what this war was, and after that it wasn't fun or exciting, but something that had to be done.
Fortune smiled on me that day, or the hand of a Divine Providence was over me, or I was just plain lucky. We killed many of them in fighting that lasted to nightfall. We cornered fifty or so Imperial [Japanese] Marines on the end of the island, where they attempted a banzai charge, but we cut them down like overripe wheat, and they lay like tired children with their faces in the sand.
That night was unbelievably terrible. There were many of them left and they all had one fanatical notion, and that was to take one of us with them. We dug in with orders to kill anything that moved. I kept watch in a foxhole with my sergeant, and we both stayed awake all night with a knife in one hand and a grenade in the other. They crept in among us, and every bush or rock took on sinister proportions. They got some of us, but in the morning they all lay about, some with their riddled bodies actually inside our foxholes. With daylight it was easy for us and we finished them off. Never have I been so glad to see the blessed sun.”

With that battle over, the lieutenant and his men were hustled back on ship. For a day and a night they were "desperately trying" to get their gear into proper shape to go right back into combat. The following morning, they went in on the attack on Parry.
They found the beach was swept with machine-gun and mortar fire, but they surged inland over ruined, shell-blasted soil rocked by the continual mortar bursts. Then their captain suddenly pointed, and above the brush line they saw 150 or so men bending forward, moving on a parallel course about 50 yards away. The Marines, however, waved, thinking that they must be fellow Marines. The men paid little attention to the Marines and seemed to be setting up machine guns. The realization struck home: they were Japanese.
The lieutenant by now had just half a platoon of men and two machine guns. They set the guns up and started firing at the enemy. One gun jammed, so they buried the parts in the sand, because they thought that the Japanese would charge and they couldn't possibly stop it or prevent the capture of the gun. When they didn't attack, the Marines moved in against them. The two sides threw grenades back and forth for what seemed like hours. Many were killed on both sides. Finally the lieutenant and his men threw a whole volley of grenades and charged in and got to the beach. Down it they could see a whole group of Japanese, so all 12 of the Marines, standing, kneeling, or lying prone, fired their rifles and carbines. The enemy fell like ducks in a shooting gallery, but still they closed in on the little group of Marines who then had to back away
Now the lieutenant continued his story:

“But we got some tanks and reinforcements some half hour later and moved through them in skirmish line, which brings this tale to the most extraordinary incident of all. I was following some ten yards behind the tanks, when a Jap officer came out of a hole pointing his pistol at me; so instinctively I shot my carbine from the hip and hit him full in the face. I walked forward and looked into the trench and saw another with his arm cocked to throw a grenade. He didn't see me. I was only six feet away. I pulled the trigger but the weapon was jammed with sand. I had to do something, so I took my carbine by the barrel and hit him with all my might at the base of the neck. It broke his neck and my carbine.
Finally we killed them all. They never surrender. Again the night was a bad one, but with the dawn came complete victory, and those of us who still walked without a wound looked in amazement at our whole bodies. There was not much jubilation. We just sat and stared at the sand, and most of us thought of those who were gone—those whom I shall remember as always young, smiling, and graceful, and I shall try to forget how they looked at the end, beyond all recognition. . .”

The lieutenant's letter went on to praise his men:

“They obeyed with an unquestioning courage. One of my section leaders was hit by a bullet in his arm. It spun him clear around and set him down on his behind. A little dazed, he sat there for a second and then jumped up with the remark, `The little bastards will have to hit me with more than that.’ I had to order him back to the dressing station an hour later. He was weak with loss of blood but actually pleaded to stay.
My runner was knocked down right beside me with three bullet holes in him and blood all over his face. Stupidly I said, `Are you hit, boy?’ He was crying a little, being just a kid of eighteen, and said, `I'm sorry, sir. I guess I'm just a sissy.’ I damn near cried myself at that.”


1. Young Marine after two days of fighting on the Eniwetok beachhead, Feb., 1944.

2. Japanese dead.

3. Google Earth shot of Eniwetok and Parry (labelled Medren).

JT