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 was Mt. Tapotchau, with Jap observation posts honeycombing its crest.
D-DAY AT SAIPAN
INITIAL LANDINGS AND NIGHT
DEFENSIVE POSITION
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....
Marines dig in on the beachhead, consolidating their positions, and at the same time preparing to move out on the attack inland.
Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 81917