Throughout the night the fleet sent flares skyward, lighting the islands as the flares drifted with the prevailing wind. Ghostly flickering light was cast from the flares as they drifted along on their parachutes. Laying in our foxhole, my buddy and I were watching, waiting, and straining our ears trying to filter out the known sounds.
Our foxhole in that sand was about six feet long by two feet in depth and just about wide enough to hold the two of us. Since I had eaten only my “D” ration since leaving the ship, I was hungry. “D” rations were bitter-sweet chocolate bars about an inch and a half square and were supposed to be full of energy. I removed a “K” ration from my pack and opened it. “K” rations came in a box about the size of a Cracker Jack box and had a waterproof coating. These rations contained a small tin of powdered coffee or lemonade, some round hard candies, a package of three cigarettes, and a tin about the size of a tuna-fish can containing either cheese, hash, or eggs with a little bacon. We dined on our rations, drank water from our canteens, and prepared to settle in for the night....
After finishing chow we elected to take two-hour watches, one on guard while the other slept. Also we made sure we knew where our buddies’ foxholes were, both on the left and right of us. Thus we were set up so that anyone to our front would be an enemy. Our first night in combat had started.
Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 70694
Landing Vehicles, Tracked (LVTs) equipped with rocket launchers new to the 4th Marine Division, churn towards the assault beaches of Roi-Namur on D-Plus One.
Before dawn the Japanese mounted a determined counterattack which was finally repulsed. Nevertheless, it was a tragic night for one particular family. A 19-year-old Marine private first class and his 44-year-old father, a corporal, had been together in the same company back in California, but the son was hospitalized with a minor illness and then transferred to another outfit. The father boarded his ship prepared to sail for combat alone, but then his son was found stowed away on it in order to be with his father. The young man was taken off and was placed under arrest. His mother, however, telephoned the Commandant’s office in Washington and told the story of her son’s effort to be together with her husband. The charges were dropped and the two were reunited for the trip to the Marshalls. The son was killed that first night on Namur. The father went on fighting—alone.
Troops of the 24th Marines near the beach on Namur, thankful for having made it safely ashore, are now awaiting the inevitable word to resume the attack.
Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 70209
Early on the afternoon of the next day, 2 February, D plus 2, the 24th Marines finished its conquest of Namur, and the island was declared “secured.” In the final moments of combat, however, Lieutenant Colonel Aquilla J. Dyess, commander of the 1st Battalion, was standing to direct the last attack of his men. A burst of machine gun fire riddled his body, and he became the most senior officer to die in the battle. For his superb leadership under fire he was awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor.
