The 70th Reunion of Iwo Jima

Early on the morning of 21 March 2015, a group of United States World War II veterans gathered at the Outrigger Hotel in Tamuning, Guam, talking and joking with the children and grandchildren who had accompanied them for this 70th commemoration of the Battle of Iwo Jima. More than 30 veterans with family members in tow had returned to this famous battlefield on Japanese soil. P-51 fighter pilot Jerry Yellin (19 missions), B-29 flight engineer and former Japanese POW Fiske Hanley (seven missions), Water Purification Engineer Ed Graham, Marine Corps riflemen Darol E. “Lefty” Lee, Medal of Honor recipient Hershel Woodrow “Woody” Williams, John R. Coltrane, Billie Griggs, James “Jim” Skinner, T. Fred Harvey, Leighton R. Willhite, William "Bill" Pasewark Sr. and John Lauriello, company commander Lawrence Snowden, Navajo Code Talker Samuel Tom “Sam” Holiday, navy Corpsman Leo Tuck, Sailor and AA Gunner Harold Andrews from USS Gunston Hall (LSD-5), as well as Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) Sailor Tsuruji Akikusa and many others traveled back to the island and back in time to recall events that shaped their lives and world history. In total, more than 400 people flew to Iwo Jima on three United Airline jets.

Many veterans moved slowly often with help from a grandson or son. A few were in wheelchairs. If you saw these men at home today, you might pay little mind to someone’s old granddad who had lived his life and was nearing the end. Few would know that these men, when in the bloom of youth, had gone to some of the most hellish places on earth to defend America and fight for her freedom—and the freedom of the world. In their teens and 20s they were strong, intrepid young warriors who prided themselves on being an elite fighting force and became an important part of what made the Marines legendary. Even now, these men speak with pride of having served and still find it difficult to explain how they survived this battle. Most were returning to Iwo for the first time in 70 years—their last memories of this place filled with carnage, combat and killing. Many lost buddies there, and a few were accompanied by a son or grandson proudly bearing their comrade’s name. There were children of the fallen there, now in their 70s, asking unanswerable questions and needing to see where their fathers had taken their last breath, hoping to accept their loss. There were children of men who had survived Iwo Jima, but who now were deceased, paying their respects and hoping to learn more about the stories their fathers had told them, like Laura Leppert, president of the Daughters of World War II, whose father, George Broderick, fought and was wounded in the 5th Marine Division (5th MarDiv).

Dressed in our Sunday best, we took our time boarding the airplanes. Since there are still thousands of missing-in-action (MIA) Imperial Japanese Army soldiers on the island, the Japanese treat the occasion as if attending a funeral requiring a strict dress code. My 12-year-old son Justin and I wore dark navy-blue suits, dress shirts and red and blue ties (but since we would be exploring the island, I also wore my black leather Marine combat boots polished to a high gloss as if I were undergoing an inspection). Veterans Jim Skinner wore a replica set of WWII Marine dungarees, Jerry Yellin wore his U.S. Army Air Corps officer outfit, John R. Coltrane wore his Dress Blues and Navajo Code Talker Sam Holiday wore a blend of a Marine Corps League and formal Navajo Tribal Gold and Red uniform. Prior to this, we attended educational seminars and toured Guam’s battlefield, where the inhabitants suffered through almost three years of Japanese occupation until the United States liberated them in July 1944. We visited Andersen U.S. Air Force Base where some of the B-29 Superfortress bombing campaigns were launched against Japan and helped end the war. We met with the governor of Guam, Eddie Calvo; the Marine Corps Commandant and later Chairman of the Joint Chiefs-of-Staff, General Joseph Dunford; Air Force Commander of Andersen Brigadier General Andrew Toth; and Commander of the Joint Region of the Marianas, Rear Admiral Babette “Bette” Bolivar. The return to Iwo Jima was a prospect that had most veterans sitting in quiet contemplation on takeoff. Once airborne, people rose from their seats and chatted with each other as if at a relaxed social gathering. Standard airplane etiquette flew out the window; even the flight attendants mingled with the crowd.

As the plane flew over the Pacific Ocean, it was apparent why, during WWII if a plane broke down and had to ditch, it was often lost to history. The Pacific Ocean covers over 30 percent of the earth’s surface and that is a whole lot of ocean. “You could drop the entire landmass of the earth into the Pacific and still leave a vast sea “shroud to roll,” in Herman Melville’s words, “‘as it rolled five thousand years ago.’” We flew 6,000 miles from Los Angeles to Iwo Jima. During WWII, this distance had to be traversed by ship and there was no straight line to anything, since a vessel had to go from island to island for supplies. U.S. fleets had to sail 8,000 miles to get to Japan’s doorstep (“more than twice the distance from New York City to San Francisco”). Few nations at the time had fleets with sufficient range to attempt such a crossing requiring refueling multiple times at numerous islands. What used to take months to travel, jet airplanes can now do in days, sometimes in mere hours. Still, the logistics were daunting, requiring my son, Justin, and me to first travel from Dallas to Los Angeles where we met the veterans with whom we would make this journey. The next day, after an airport fire department water-cannon salute for the veterans soaked our airplane, we left Los Angeles airport for Hawaii, then Guam and subsequently flew across the seemingly interminable Pacific en route to Iwo Jima. The journey took days, four airplanes and almost 20 hours of flight time.

The day we flew to Iwo Jima, our planes circled the island a few times and the anxious men pressed their faces against the windows, their memories flooding back as they looked at Mount Suribachi’s rugged hump rising from the sea. The landing beach, where many died, was still long, black, smooth and steep. Sunken ships in shallow waters, pillboxes and machinegun placements dotted the greenish-brown landscape. The men described sounds and smells as memories flooded back. Iwo’s craggy landscape and rolling beaches were surrounded by dark seas and clear skies wielding a scene worthy for a painter, a “mystery of an unknown earth” using a phrase from Moby Dick.

We landed on Iwo Jima and slowly pulled up in line near the control tower that had the new name of the island, Iwo To, printed on its structure. According to some, the island was renamed because the Japanese do not like being reminded of their defeat, especially after Clint Eastwood’s 2006 films about the battle. A large Japanese flag flew over the airport and several military planes with the red circle on their fuselages lined the runway. It was the postwar flag of America’s democratic ally, not the rising sun flag (Hinomaru) of the aggressive, fascist Empire of Japan that once flew over this island and much of the Pacific. Some veterans expressed their disgust that the U.S., due to Vietnam War politics, gave this land back to the Japanese in 1968. Veteran Jim Skinner said: “We spilt so much blood for this island and Japan was such an evil nation, we should’ve never given it back...This is hallowed ground for America and for the Corps.” Veterans around him nodded in agreement. As modern Marines who were there to be part of a joint military ceremony moved mobile stairways to our jets, most did not know that the airport was built over an underground network of tunnels and bunkers the Japanese had constructed during WWII and that hundreds if not thousands of Japanese remains were still there, buried underneath the runways and airport buildings. We were walking on the dead. At least half of the Japanese force that fought at this battle is still buried on the island (circa 10,000) along with the remains of 300-400 Marines who were never recovered, so every step we took on Iwo would be on a graveyard.

After disembarking, the ocean air and unmistakable sulfur fumes of the volcanic island entered our nostrils, reminding us of rotten eggs. The scent evoked the horrible memories of war for many of the veterans. Most talked of 1945—their thoughts returned to a lost era. The last time their feet had crushed Iwo sand and ash, they were young men who had fought in one of history’s bloodiest battles. They told my son Justin and me incredible stories and I used them to tell the story of the Pacific War and Japan’s Holocaust in “Flamethrower.”

Since 2015, most of the men we traveled with to Iwo have since died. Many of the stories I collected during the trip would have never been recorded had I not been lucky enough to interview them during a time when they were alive and willing to talk. It shows how important it is to not only listen to our heroes, but also to document them for posterity. We say, “never forget,” which I have tried to do by preserving and sharing their stories in my book, “Flamethrower.”

To read their stories in “Flamethrower”: https://www.amazon.com/.../173453.../ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0...