Across the Reef: The Marine Assault of Tarawa (2024)

Transcriber’s note: Table of Contents added by Transcriberand placed into the Public Domain.

Contents

Marines in
World War II
Commemorative Series

By Colonel Joseph H. Alexander
U.S. Marine Corps (Ret)

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Across the Reef:
The Marine Assault of Tarawa

by Colonel Joseph H. Alexander, USMC (Ret)

In August 1943, to meetin secret with MajorGeneral Julian C.Smith and his principalstaff officers of the 2dMarine Division, Vice Admiral RaymondA. Spruance, commanding theCentral Pacific Force, flew to NewZealand from Pearl Harbor. Spruancetold the Marines to prepare foran amphibious assault againstJapanese positions in the Gilbert Islandsin November.

The Marines knew about the Gilberts.The 2d Raider Battalion underLieutenant Colonel Evans F. Carlsonhad attacked Makin Atoll a yearearlier. Subsequent intelligencereports warned that the Japanese hadfortified Betio Island in Tarawa Atoll,where elite forces guarded a newbomber strip. Spruance said Betiowould be the prime target for the 2dMarine Division.

General Smith’s operations officer,Lieutenant Colonel David M. Shoup,studied the primitive chart of Betioand saw that the tiny island was surroundedby a barrier reef. Shoupasked Spruance if any of the Navy’sexperimental, shallow-draft, plasticboats could be provided. “Not available,”replied the admiral, “expectonly the usual wooden landing craft.”Shoup frowned. General Smith couldsense that Shoup’s gifted mind wasalready formulating a plan.

The results of that plan weremomentous. The Tarawa operationbecame a tactical watershed: the first,large-scale test of American amphibiousdoctrine against a strongly fortifiedbeachhead. The Marine assaulton Betio was particularly bloody. Tendays after the assault, Time magazinepublished the first of many post-battleanalyses:

Last week some 2,000 or3,000 United States Marines,most of them now dead orwounded, gave the nation aname to stand beside those ofConcord Bridge, the BonHomme Richard, the Alamo,Little Big Horn and BelleauWood. The name was “Tarawa.”

Setting the Stage

The Gilbert Islands consist of 16scattered atolls lying along the equatorin the Central Pacific. TarawaAtoll is 2,085 miles southwest ofPearl Harbor and 540 miles southeastof Kwajalein in the Marshalls. Betiois the principal island in the atoll.

The Japanese seized Tarawa andMakin from the British within thefirst three days after Pearl Harbor.Carlson’s brief raid in August 1942caused the Japanese to realize theirvulnerability in the Gilberts. Shortlyafter the raid, the 6th YokosukaSpecial Naval Landing Force arrivedin the islands. With them came RearAdmiral Tomanari Saichiro, a superbengineer, who directed the constructionof sophisticated defensive positionson Betio. Saichiro’s primarygoal was to make Betio so formidablethat an American assault wouldbe stalled at the water’s edge, allowingtime for the other elements of theYogaki (“Waylaying Attack”) Plan todestroy the landing force.

The Yogaki Plan was the Japanesestrategy to defend eastern Micronesiafrom an Allied invasion. Japanesecommanders agreed to counterattackwith bombers, submarines, and themain battle fleet. Admiral Chester W.Nimitz, Commander-in-Chief, PacificFleet/Commander in Chief, PacificOcean Areas (CinCPac/CinCPOA),took these capabilities seriously.Nimitz directed Spruance to “get thehell in and get the hell out!” Spruancein turn warned his subordinates toseize the target islands in the Gilberts“with lightning speed.” This sense ofurgency had a major influence on theTarawa campaign.

The Joint Chiefs of Staff assignedthe code name Galvanic to the campaignto capture Tarawa, Makin, andApamama in the Gilberts. The 2dMarine Division was assigned Tarawaand Apamama (a company-sizedoperation); the Army’s 165thRegimental Combat Team of the 27thInfantry Division would tackleMakin.

By coincidence, each of the threelanding force commanders in OperationGalvanic was a major generalnamed Smith. The senior of thesewas a Marine, Holland M. “HowlingMad” Smith, commanding V AmphibiousCorps. Julian C. Smithcommanded the 2d Marine Division.Army Major General Ralph C. Smithcommanded the 27th Infantry Division.

Spruance assigned Rear AdmiralRichmond Kelly “Terrible” Turner,veteran of the Guadalcanal campaign,to command all amphibiousforces for the operation. Turner, accompaniedby Holland Smith, decidedto command the northern group,Task Force 52, for the assault onMakin. Turner assigned Rear Admiral2Harry W. “Handsome Harry”Hill to command the southern group,Task Force 53, for the assault onTarawa. Julian Smith would accompanyHill on board the old battleshipUSS Maryland (BB 46). The twoofficers were opposites—Hill, outspokenand impetuous; Julian Smith,reserved and reflective—but theyworked together well. Spruance setD-Day for 20 November 1943.

Colonel Shoup came up with anidea of how to tackle Betio’s barrierreefs. He had observed the Marines’new Landing Vehicle Tracked (LVTor “Alligator”), an amphibian tractor,in operation during Guadalcanal.The Alligators were unarmored logisticvehicles, not assault craft, butthey were true amphibians, capableof being launched at sea and swimmingashore through moderate surf.

Shoup discussed the potential useof LVTs as assault craft with MajorHenry C. Drewes, commanding the2d Amphibian Tractor Battalion.Drewes liked the idea, but warnedShoup that many of his vehicles werein poor condition after the Guadalcanalcampaign. At best, Drewescould provide a maximum of 75 vehicles,not nearly enough to carry theentire assault and following waves.Further, the thin hulls of the vehicleswere vulnerable to every enemyweapon and would require someform of jury-rigged armor plating forminimal protection. Shoup encouragedDrewes to modify the vehicleswith whatever armor plate hecould scrounge.

General Julian Smith was awarethat a number of LVT-2s were stockpiledin San Diego, and he submittedan urgent request for 100 of thenewer models to the corps commander.Holland Smith endorsed therequest favorably, but Admiral Turnerdisagreed. The two strong-willedofficers were doctrinally equal duringthe planning phase, and the argumentwas intense. While Turnerdid not dispute the Marines’ need fora reef-crossing capability, he objectedto the fact that the new vehicleswould have to be carried to Tarawain tank landing ships (LSTs). Theslow speed of the LSTs (8.5 knotsmax) would require a separate convoy,additional escorts, and an increasedrisk of losing the element ofstrategic surprise. Holland Smithreduced the debate to bare essentials:“No LVTs, no operation.” Turner acquiesced,but it was not a completevictory for the Marines. Half of the100 new LVT-2s would go to theArmy forces landing at Makinagainst much lighter opposition. The50 Marine vehicles would not arrivein time for either work-up trainingor the rehearsal landings. The firsttime the infantry would lay eyes onthe LVT-2s would be in the pre-dawnhours of D-Day at Tarawa—if then.

Assault Preparations

As replacement troops began topour into New Zealand, General3Smith requested the assignment ofColonel Merritt A. “Red Mike” Edsonas division chief of staff. Thefiery Edson, already a legend in theCorps for his heroic exploits in CentralAmerica and Guadalcanal,worked tirelessly to forge the amalgamof veterans and newcomers intoan effective amphibious team.

Intelligence reports from Betiowere sobering. The island, devoid ofnatural defilade positions and narrowenough to limit maneuver room,favored the defenders. Betio was lessthan three miles long, no broaderthan 800 yards at its widest point andcontained no natural elevation higherthan 10 feet above sea level. “Everyplace on the island can be covered bydirect rifle and machine gun fire,” observedEdson.

The elaborate defenses preparedby Admiral Saichiro were impressive.Concrete and steel tetrahedrons,minefields, and long strings ofdouble-apron barbed wire protectedbeach approaches. The Japanese alsobuilt a barrier wall of logs and coralaround much of the island. Tanktraps protected heavily fortified commandbunkers and firing positionsinland from the beach. And everywherethere were pillboxes, nearly500 of them, most fully covered bylogs, steel plates and sand.

The Japanese on Betio wereequipped with eight-inch, turret-mountednaval rifles (the so-called“Singapore Guns”), as well as a largenumber of heavy-caliber coastdefense, antiaircraft, antiboat, andfield artillery guns and howitzers.Dual-purpose 13mm heavy machineguns were prevalent. Light tanks(mounting 37mm guns), 50mm “kneemortars,” and an abundance of7.7mm light machine guns complementedthe defensive weaponry.

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The Japanese during Augustreplaced Saichiro with Rear AdmiralMeichi Shibasaki, an officer reputedto be more of a fighter than an engineer.American intelligence sourcesestimated the total strength of the Betiogarrison to be 4,800 men, ofwhom some 2,600 were consideredfirst-rate naval troops. “ImperialJapanese Marines,” Edson told thewar correspondents, “the best Tojo’sgot.” Edson’s 1st Raider Battalion hadsustained 88 casualties in wrestingTulagi from the 3d Kure SpecialNaval Landing Force the previousAugust.

Admiral Shibasaki boasted to histroops, “a million Americans couldn’ttake Tarawa in 100 years.” His optimismwas forgivable. The island wasthe most heavily defended atoll thatever would be invaded by Alliedforces in the Pacific.

Task Force 53 sorely neededdetailed tidal information for Tarawa.Colonel Shoup was confidentthat the LVTs could negotiate the reefat any tide, but he worried about theremainder of the assault troops,tanks, artillery, and reserve forcesthat would have to come ashore inHiggins boats (LCVPs). The criticalwater depth over the reef was fourfeet, enough to float a laden LCVP.Anything less and the troops wouldhave to wade ashore several hundredyards against that panoply ofJapanese weapons.

Major Frank Holland, a NewZealand reserve officer with 15 years’experience sailing the waters of Tarawa,flatly predicted, “there won’t bethree feet of water on the reef!”Shoup took Holland’s warnings seriouslyand made sure the troops knewin advance that “there was a 50-50chance of having to wade ashore.”

In the face of the dauntingJapanese defenses and the physicalconstraints of the island, Shoup proposeda landing plan which includeda sustained preliminarybombardment, advance seizure ofneighboring Bairiki Island as an artilleryfire base, and a decoy landing.General Smith took this proposal tothe planning conference in Pearl Harborwith the principal officers involvedin Operation Galvanic:Admirals Nimitz, Spruance, Turner,and Hill, and Major General HollandSmith.

The Marines were stunned to hearthe restrictions imposed on their assaultby CinCPac. Nimitz declaredthat the requirement for strategic surpriselimited preliminary bombardmentof Betio to about three hourson the morning of D-Day. The imperativeto concentrate naval forcesto defend against a Japanese fleet sortiealso ruled out advance seizure ofBairiki and any decoy landings. ThenHolland Smith announced his ownbombshell: the 6th Marines would bewithheld as corps reserve.

All of Julian Smith’s tactical optionshad been stripped away. The 2d5Marine Division was compelled tomake a frontal assault into the teethof Betio’s defenses with an abbreviatedpreparatory bombardment.Worse, loss of the 6th Marines meanthe would be attacking the island fortresswith only a 2-to-1 superiorityin troops, well below the doctrinalminimum. Shaken, he insisted thatHolland Smith absolve him of anyresponsibility for the consequences.This was done.

David Shoup returned to NewZealand to prepare a modified operationsorder and select the landingbeaches. Betio, located on the southwesterntip of Tarawa near the entranceto the lagoon, took the shapeof a small bird, lying on its back,with its breast facing north, into thelagoon. The Japanese had concentratedtheir defenses on the southern andwestern coasts, roughly the bird’shead and back (where they themselveshad landed). By contrast, thenorthern beaches (the bird’s breast)had calmer waters in the lagoon and,with one deadly exception (the “re-entrant”),were convex. Defenses inthis sector were being improved dailybut were not yet complete. A1,000-yard pier which jutted duenorth over the fringing reef into deeperlagoon waters (in effect, the bird’slegs) was an attractive logistics target.It was an easy decision to selectthe northern coast for landingbeaches, but there was no real safeavenue of approach.

Looking at the north shore of Betiofrom the line of departure withinthe lagoon, Shoup designated threelanding beaches, each 600 yards inlength. From right to left these were:Red Beach One, from Betio’s northwesterntip (the bird’s beak) to apoint just east of the re-entrant; RedBeach Two, from that juncture to thepier; Red Beach Three, from the piereastward. Other beaches were designatedas contingencies, notablyGreen Beach along the western shore(the bird’s head).

Julian Smith had intended to landwith two regiments abreast and onein reserve. Loss of the 6th Marinesforced a major change. Shoup’smodified plan assigned the 2d Marines,reinforced by Landing Team(LT) 2/8 (2d Battalion, 8th Marines),as the assault force. The rest of the8th Marines would constitute the divisionreserve. The attack would be6preceded by advance seizure of thepier by the regimental scout sniperplatoon (Lieutenant William D.Hawkins). Landing abreast at H-Hourwould be LT 3/2 (3d Battalion,2d Marines) (Major John F. Schoettel)on Red One; LT 2/2 (2d Battalion,2d Marines) (Lieutenant ColonelHerbert R. Amey, Jr.) on Red Two;and LT 2/8 (Major Henry P. JimCrowe) on Red Three. Major WoodB. Kyle’s LT 1/2 (1st Battalion, 2dMarines) would be on call as theregimental reserve.

General Smith scheduled a large-scaleamphibious exercise in HawkesBay for the first of November andmade arrangements for New Zealandtrucks to haul the men back to Wellingtonat the conclusion in time fora large dance. Complacently, the entire2d Marine Division embarkedaboard 16 amphibious ships for theroutine exercise. It was all an artfulruse. The ships weighed anchor andheaded north for Operation Galvanic.For once, “Tokyo Rose” had noclue of the impending campaign.

Most of Task Force 53 assembledin Efate, New Hebrides, on 7 November.Admiral Hill arrived on boardMaryland. The Marines, now keenlyaware that an operation was underway,were more interested in thearrival from Noumea of 14 newSherman M4-A2 tanks on board thedock landing ship Ashland (LSD 1).The division had never operated withmedium tanks before.

The landing rehearsals at Efate didlittle to prepare the Marines for Betio.The fleet carriers and their embarkedair wings were off assaultingtargets in the Solomons. The Shermantanks had no place to offload.The new LVT-2s were presumablysomewhere to the north, underwaydirectly for Tarawa. Naval gun shipsbombarded Erradaka Island, wellaway from the troops landing atMele Bay.

One overlooked aspect of the rehearsalpaid subsequent dividendsfor the Marines in the coming assault.Major William K. “Willie K.”Jones, commanding LT 1/6, took theopportunity to practice embarkinghis troops in rubber rafts. In the pre-warFleet Marine Force, the first battalionin each regiment had beendesignated “the rubber boat battalion.”The uncommon sight of thismini-flotilla inspired numerous catcallsfrom the other Marines. Joneshimself was dubbed “The Admiral ofthe Condom Fleet.”

The contentious issue during thepost-rehearsal critique was the suitabilityof the naval gunfire plan. Thetarget island was scheduled to receivethe greatest concentration of navalgunfire of the war to date. Manysenior naval officers were optimisticof the outcome. “We do not intend7to neutralize [the island], we do notintend to destroy it,” boasted one admiral,“Gentlemen, we will obliterateit.” But General Smith had heardenough of these boasts. In a voicetaut with anger he stood to addressthe meeting: “Even though you navalofficers do come in to about 1,000yards, I remind you that you have alittle armor. I want you to know theMarines are crossing the beach withbayonets, and the only armor they’llhave is a khaki shirt!”

While at Efate, Colonel WilliamMarshall, commanding CombatTeam Two and scheduled for themajor assault role at Betio, becametoo ill to continue. In a memorabledecision, General Smith promotedDavid Shoup to colonel and orderedhim to relieve Colonel Marshall.Shoup knew the 2d Marines, and hecertainly knew the plan. The architectwas about to become the executor.

Once underway from Efate, AdmiralHill ordered the various commanders8of Task Force 53 to brief thetroops on their destination and mission.Tarawa came as a surprise tomost of the men. Many had wageredthey were heading for Wake Island.On the day before D-Day, GeneralJulian Smith sent a message “to theofficers and men of the 2d Division.”In it, the commanding general soughtto reassure his men that, unlike theGuadalcanal campaign, the Navywould stay and provide supportthroughout. The troops listened attentivelyto these words coming overthe loudspeakers:

A great offensive to destroythe enemy in the Central Pacifichas begun. Our Navy screensour operation and will supportour attack tomorrow with thegreatest concentration of aerialbombardment and naval gunfirein the history of warfare. Itwill remain with us until ourobjective is secured.... Garrisontroops are already enrouteto relieve us as soon as we havecompleted our job.... Goodluck and God bless you all.

As the sun began to set on TaskForce 53 on the evening of D-minus-one,it appeared that strategic surprisehad indeed been attained. Moregood news came with the report thatthe small convoy of LSTs bearingLVT-2s had arrived safely fromSamoa and was joining the formation.All the pieces seemed to be comingtogether.

D-Day at Betio,
20 November 1943

The crowded transports of TaskForce 53 arrived off Tarawa Atollshortly after midnight on D-Day. Debarkationbegan at 0320. The captainof the Zeilin (APA 3) played the MarinesHymn over the public addresssystem, and the sailors cheered as the2d Battalion, 2d Marines, crawledover the side and down the cargonets.

At this point, things started to gowrong. Admiral Hill discovered thatthe transports were in the wrong anchorage,masking some of the firesupport ships, and directed them toshift immediately to the correct site.The landing craft bobbed along inthe wake of the ships; some Marineshad been halfway down the cargonets when the ships abruptlyweighed anchor. Matching the exactLVTs with their assigned assaultteams in the darkness becamehaphazard. Choppy seas made cross-decktransfers between the small craftdangerous.

Few tactical plans survive theopening rounds of execution, particularlyin amphibious operations.“The Plan” for D-Day at Betio establishedH-Hour for the assault wavesat 0830. Strike aircraft from the fastcarriers would initiate the action witha half-hour bombing raid at 0545.Then the fire support ships wouldbombard the island from close rangefor the ensuing 130 minutes. Theplanes would return for a final strafingrun at H-minus-five, then shift toinland targets as the Marines stormedashore. None of this went accordingto plan.

The Japanese initiated the battle.Alerted by the pre-dawn activitiesoffshore, the garrison opened fire onthe task force with their big navalguns at 0507. The main batteries ofthe battleships Colorado (BB 45) andMaryland commenced counterbatteryfire almost immediately. Several16-inch shells found their mark; ahuge fireball signalled destruction ofan ammunition bunker for one of theJapanese gun positions. Other firesupport ships joined in. At 0542 Hillordered “cease fire,” expecting the airattack to commence momentarily.There was a long silence.

The carrier air group had changedits plans, postponing the strike by 30minutes. Inexplicably, that unilateralmodification was never transmittedto Admiral Hill, the amphibioustask force commander. Hill’sproblems were further compoundedby the sudden loss of communicationson his flagship Maryland withthe first crashing salvo of the ship’smain battery. The Japanese coastaldefense guns were damaged but stilldangerous. The American mix-upprovided the defenders a grace periodof 25 minutes to recover and adjust.Frustrated at every turn, Hill9ordered his ships to resume firing at0605. Suddenly, at 0610, the aircraftappeared, bombing and strafing theisland for the next few minutes.Amid all this, the sun rose, red andominous through the thick smoke.

The battleships, cruisers, and destroyersof Task Force 53 began a saturationbombardment of Betio for thenext several hours. The awesomeshock and sounds of the shellingwere experienced avidly by the Marines.Staff Sergeant Norman Hatch,a combat photographer, thought tohimself, “we just really didn’t see howwe could do [anything] but go inthere and bury the people ... thiswasn’t going to be a fight.” Time correspondentRobert Sherrod thought,“surely, no mortal men could livethrough such destroying power ... anyJaps on the island would all bedead by now.” Sherrod’s thoughtswere rudely interrupted by a geyserof water 50 yards astern of the ship.The Japanese had resumed fire andtheir targets were the vulnerabletransports. The troop ships hastilygot underway for the second timethat morning.

For Admiral Hill and GeneralJulian Smith on board Maryland, thebest source of information throughoutthe long day would prove to bethe Vought-Sikorsky Type OS2UKingfisher observation aircraft10launched by the battleships. At 0648,Hill inquired of the pilot of one floatplane, “Is reef covered with water?”The answer was a cryptic “negative.”At that same time, the LVTs of WaveOne, with 700 infantrymen embarked,left the assembly area andheaded for the line of departure.

The crews and embarked troops inthe LVTs had already had a longmorning, complete with hair-raisingcross-deck transfers in the choppysea and the unwelcome thrill of eight-inchshells landing in their proximity.Now they were commencing anextremely long run to the beach, adistance of nearly 10 miles. The craftstarted on time but quickly fell behindschedule. The LVT-1s of the firstwave failed to maintain the planned4.5-knot speed of advance due to astrong westerly current, decreasedbuoyancy from the weight of the improvisedarmor plating, and theiroveraged power plants. There was apsychological factor at work as well.“Red Mike” Edson had criticized theLVT crews for landing five minutesearly during the rehearsal at Efate,saying, “early arrival inexcusable, latearrival preferable.” Admiral Hill andGeneral Smith soon realized that thethree struggling columns of LVTswould never make the beach by0830. H-Hour was postponed twice,to 0845, then to 0900. Here again, notall hands received this word.

The destroyers Ringgold (DD 500)and Dashiell (DD 659) entered the lagoonin the wake of two minesweepersto provide close-in fire support.Once in the lagoon, the minesweeperPursuit (AM 108) became thePrimary Control Ship, taking positiondirectly on the line of departure.Pursuit turned her searchlight seawardto provide the LVTs with a beaconthrough the thick dust andsmoke. Finally, at 0824, the first waveof LVTs crossed the line, still 6,000yards away from the target beaches.

A minute later the second groupof carrier aircraft roared over Betio,right on time for the original H-Hour,but totally unaware of the newtimes. This was another blunder. AdmiralKelly Turner had specificallyprovided all players in OperationGalvanic with this admonition:“Times of strafing beaches with referenceto H-Hour are approximate; thedistance of the boats from the beachis the governing factor.” Admiral Hillhad to call them off. The planes remainedon station, but with depletedfuel and ammunition levelsavailable.

The LVTs struggled shoreward inthree long waves, each separated by11a 300-yard interval: the 42 LVT-1s ofWave One, followed by 24 LVT-2s ofWave Two, and 21 LVT-2s of WaveThree. Behind the tracked vehiclescame Waves Four and Five of LCVPs.Each of the assault battalion commanderswere in Wave Four. Furtherastern, the Ashland ballasted downand launched 14 LCMs, each carryinga Sherman medium tank. Fourother LCMs appeared carrying lighttanks (37mm guns).

Shortly before 0800, ColonelShoup and elements of his tacticalcommand post debarked into LCVPsfrom Biddle (APA 8) and headed forthe line of departure. Close by Shoupstood an enterprising sergeant, energeticallyshielding his bulky radiofrom the salt spray. Of the myriad ofcommunications blackouts andfailures on D-Day, Shoup’s radiowould remain functional longer andserve him better than the radios ofany other commander, American orJapanese, on the island.

Admiral Hill ordered a ceasefire at0854, even though the waves werestill 4,000 yards off shore. GeneralSmith and “Red Mike” Edson objectedstrenuously, but Hill consideredthe huge pillars of smoke unsafe foroverhead fire support of the assaultwaves. The great noise abruptlyceased. The LVTs making their finalapproach soon began to receive long-rangemachine gun fire and artilleryair-bursts. The latter could have beenfatal to the troops crowded intoopen-topped LVTs, but the Japanesehad overloaded the projectiles withhigh explosives. Instead of steel shellfragments, the Marines were “dousedwith hot sand.” It was the last tacticalmistake the Japanese would makethat day.

The previously aborted air strikereturned at 0855 for five minutes ofnoisy but ineffective strafing alongthe beaches, the pilots again heedingtheir wristwatches instead of theprogress of the lead LVTs.

Two other events occurred at thistime. A pair of naval landing boatsdarted towards the end of the longpier at the reef’s edge. Out chargedFirst Lieutenant Hawkins with hisscout-sniper platoon and a squad ofcombat engineers. These shocktroops made quick work of Japanesemachine gun emplacements along thepier with explosives and flamethrowers. Meanwhile, the LVTs ofWave One struck the reef andcrawled effortlessly over it, commencingtheir final run to the beach.These parts of Shoup’s landing planworked to perfection.

But the preliminary bombardment,as awesome and unprecedentedas it had been, had failedsignificantly to soften the defenses.Very little ships’ fire had been directedagainst the landing beaches themselves,where Admiral Shibasakivowed to defeat the assault units atthe water’s edge. The well-protecteddefenders simply shook off the sandand manned their guns. Worse, thenear-total curtailment of naval gunfirefor the final 25 minutes of the assaultrun was a fateful lapse. Ineffect, the Americans gave their opponentstime to shift forces from thesouthern and western beaches toreinforce northern positions. Thedefenders were groggy from thepounding and stunned at the sight ofLVTs crossing the barrier reef, butShibasaki’s killing zone was stilllargely intact. The assault waves weregreeted by a steadily increasingvolume of combined arms fire.

For Wave One, the final 200 yardsto the beach were the roughest, especiallyfor those LVTs approachingRed Beaches One and Two. The vehicleswere hammered by well-aimedfire from heavy and light machineguns and 40mm antiboat guns. TheMarines fired back, expending 10,000rounds from the .50-caliber machineguns mounted forward on eachLVT-1. But the exposed gunners wereeasy targets, and dozens were cutdown. Major Drewes, the LVT battalioncommander who had workedso hard with Shoup to make this assaultpossible, took over one machinegun from a fallen crewman and wasimmediately killed by a bulletthrough the brain. Captain Fenlon A.Durand, one of Drewes’ companycommanders, saw a Japanese officerstanding defiantly on the seawall12waving a pistol, “just daring us tocome ashore.”

On they came. Initial touchdowntimes were staggered: 0910 on RedBeach One; 0917 on Red BeachThree; 0922 on Red Beach Two. Thefirst LVT ashore was vehicle number4-9, nicknamed “My Deloris,” drivenby PFC Edward J. Moore. “MyDeloris” was the right guide vehiclein Wave One on Red Beach One, hittingthe beach squarely on “the bird’sbeak.” Moore tried his best to drivehis LVT over the five-foot seawall,but the vehicle stalled in a near-verticalposition while nearbymachine guns riddled the cab. Moorereached for his rifle only to find itshot in half. One of the embarkedtroops was 19-year-old Private FirstClass Gilbert Ferguson, who recalledwhat happened next on board theLVT: “The sergeant stood up andyelled ‘everybody out.’ At that veryinstant, machine gun bullets appearedto rip his head off....” Ferguson,Moore, and others escapedfrom the vehicle and dispatched twomachine gun positions only yardsaway. All became casualties in shortorder.

Very few of the LVTs could negotiatethe seawall. Stalled on the beach,the vehicles were vulnerable topreregistered mortar and howitzerfire, as well as hand grenades tossedinto the open troop compartments byJapanese troops on the other side ofthe barrier. The crew chief of one vehicle,Corporal John Spillane, hadbeen a baseball prospect with the St.Louis Cardinals organization beforethe war. Spillane caught twoJapanese grenades barehanded inmid-air, tossing them back over thewall. A third grenade exploded in hishand, grievously wounding him.

The second and third waves ofLVT-2s, protected only by 3/8-inchboiler plate hurriedly installed inSamoa, suffered even more intensefire. Several were destroyed spectacularlyby large-caliber antiboat guns.Private First Class Newman M.Baird, a machine gunner aboard oneembattled vehicle, recounted his ordeal:“We were 100 yards in now andthe enemy fire was awful damn intenseand getting worse. They wereknocking [LVTs] out left and right.13A tractor’d get hit, stop, and burstinto flames, with men jumping outlike torches.” Baird’s own vehicle wasthen hit by a shell, killing the crewand many of the troops. “I grabbedmy carbine and an ammunition boxand stepped over a couple of fellaslying there and put my hand on theside so’s to roll over into the water.I didn’t want to put my head up. Thebullets were pouring at us like a sheetof rain.”

On balance, the LVTs performedtheir assault mission fully withinJulian Smith’s expectations. Onlyeight of the 87 vehicles in the firstthree waves were lost in the assault(although 15 more were so riddledwith holes that they sank uponreaching deep water while seeking toshuttle more troops ashore). Withina span of 10 minutes, the LVTs landedmore than 1,500 Marines on Betio’snorth shore, a great start to theoperation. The critical problem layin sustaining the momentum of theassault. Major Holland’s dire predictionsabout the neap tide had provenaccurate. No landing craft wouldcross the reef throughout D-Day.

Shoup hoped enough LVTs wouldsurvive to permit wholesale transfer-lineoperations with the boats alongthe edge of the reef. It rarely worked.The LVTs suffered increasing casualties.Many vehicles, afloat for fivehours already, simply ran of gas.Others had to be used immediatelyfor emergency evacuation of woundedMarines. Communications, nevergood, deteriorated as more and moreradio sets suffered water damage orenemy fire. The surviving LVTs continuedto serve, but after about 1000on D-Day, most troops had no otheroption but to wade ashore from thereef, covering distances from 500 to1,000 yards under well-aimed fire.

Marines of Major Schoettel’s LT3/2 were particularly hard hit on RedBeach One. Company K sufferedheavy casualties from the re-entrantstrongpoint on the left. Company Imade progress over the seawall alongthe “bird’s beak,” but paid a highprice, including the loss of the companycommander, Captain WilliamE. Tatom, killed before he could evendebark from his LVT. Both units losthalf their men in the first two hours.Major Michael P. “Mike” Ryan’sCompany L, forced to wade ashorewhen their boats grounded on thereef, sustained 35 percent casualties.Ryan recalled the murderous enfiladingfire and the confusion. Suddenly,“one lone trooper was spottedthrough the fire and smoke scramblingover a parapet on the beach tothe right,” marking a new landingpoint. As Ryan finally reached thebeach, he looked back over his shoulder.“All [I] could see was heads withrifles held over them,” as his wadingmen tried to make as small a targetas possible. Ryan began assemblingthe stragglers of various waves in arelatively sheltered area along GreenBeach.

Major Schoettel remained in hisboat with the remnants of his fourthwave, convinced that his landingteam had been shattered beyondrelief. No one had contact with Ryan.The fragmented reports Schoettelreceived from the survivors of thetwo other assault companies weredisheartening. Seventeen of his 37officers were casualties.

In the center, Landing Team 2/2was also hard hit coming ashore overRed Beach Two. The Japanese strongpoint14in the re-entrant between thetwo beaches played havoc amongtroops trying to scramble over thesides of their beached or stalled LVTs.Five of Company E’s six officers werekilled. Company F suffered 50 percentcasualties getting ashore andswarming over the seawall to seize aprecarious foothold. Company Gcould barely cling to a crowdedstretch of beach along the seawall inthe middle. Two infantry platoonsand two machine gun platoons weredriven away from the objective beachand forced to land on Red BeachOne, most joining “Ryans Orphans.”

When Lieutenant Colonel Amey’sboat rammed to a sudden haltagainst the reef, he hailed two passingLVTs for a transfer. Amey’s LVTthen became hung up on a barbedwire obstacle several hundred yardsoff Red Beach Two. The battalioncommander drew his pistol and exhortedhis men to follow him into thewater. Closer to the beach, Ameyturned to encourage his staff, “Comeon! Those bastards can’t beat us!” Aburst of machine gun fire hit him inthe throat, killing him instantly. Hisexecutive office, Major Howard Rice,was in another LVT which wasforced to land far to the west, behindMajor Ryan. The senior officerpresent with 2/2 was LieutenantColonel Walter Jordan, one of severalobservers from the 4th Marine Divisionand one of only a handful ofsurvivors from Amey’s LVT. Jordandid what any Marine would do underthe circ*mstances: he assumedcommand and tried to rebuild thedisjointed pieces of the landing teaminto a cohesive fighting force. Thetask was enormous.

The only assault unit to get ashorewithout significant casualties wasMajor “Jim” Crowe’s LT 2/8 on RedBeach Three to the left of the pier.Many historians have attributed thisgood fortune to the continued directfire support 2/8 received throughoutit* run to the beach from the destroyersRinggold and Dashiell in the lagoon.The two ships indeed providedoutstanding fire support to the landingforce, but their logbooks indicateboth ships honored Admiral Hill’s0855 ceasefire; thereafter, neither shipfired in support of LT 2/8 until atleast 0925. Doubtlessly, the preliminaryfire from such short rangeserved to keep the Japanese defenderson the eastern end of the island buttonedup long after the ceasefire. Asa result, Crowe’s team suffered only25 casualties in the first three LVTwaves. Company E made a significantpenetration, crossing the barricadeand the near taxiway, but fiveof its six officers were shot down inthe first 10 minutes ashore. Crowe’s15LT 2/8 was up against some of themost sophisticated defensive positionson the island; three fortificationsto their left (eastern) flankwould effectively keep these Marinesboxed in for the next 48 hours.

Major “Jim” Crowe—former enlistedman, Marine Gunner, distinguishedrifleman, star footballplayer—was a tower of strengththroughout the battle. His trademarkred mustache bristling, a combatshotgun cradled in his arm, he exudedconfidence and professionalism,qualities sorely needed on Betio thatlong day. Crowe ordered the coxswainof his LCVP “put this goddamnedboat in!” The boat hit thereef at high speed, sending the Marinessprawling. Quickly recovering,Crowe ordered his men over thesides, then led them through severalhundred yards of shallow water,reaching the shore intact only fourminutes behind his last wave of LVTs.Accompanying Crowe during thishazardous effort was Staff SergeantHatch, the combat photographer.Hatch remembers being inspired byCrowe, clenching a cigar in his teethand standing upright, growling at hismen, “Look, the sons of bitches can’thit me. Why do you think they canhit you? Get moving. Go!” Red BeachThree was in capable hands.

The situation on Betio by 0945 onD-Day was thus: Crowe, well-establishedon the left with modestpenetration to the airfield; a distinctgap between LT 2/8 and the survivorsof LT 2/2 in small clustersalong Red Beach Two under the tentativecommand of Jordan; a dangerousgap due to the Japanesefortifications at the re-entrant betweenbeaches Two and One, with afew members of 3/2 on the left flankand the growing collection of oddsand ends under Ryan past the “bird’sbeak” on Green Beach; MajorSchoettel still afloat, hovering beyondthe reef; Colonel Shoup likewisein an LCVP, but beginning hismove towards the beach; residual16members of the boated waves of theassault teams still wading ashore underincreasing enemy fire; the tanksbeing forced to unload from theirLCMs at the reef’s edge, trying to organizerecon teams to lead themashore.

Communications were ragged. Thebalky TBX radios of Shoup, Crowe,and Schoettel were still operational.Otherwise, there was either dead silenceor complete havoc on the commandnets. No one on the flagshipknew of Ryan’s relative success on thewestern end, or of Amey’s death andJordan’s assumption of command.Several echelons heard this ominousearly report from an unknownsource: “Have landed. Unusuallyheavy opposition. Casualties 70 percent.Can’t hold.” Shoup orderedKyle’s LT 1/2, the regimental reserve,to land on Red Beach Two and workwest.

This would take time. Kyle’s menwere awaiting orders at the line ofdeparture, but all were embarked inboats. Shoup and others managed toassemble enough LVTs to transportKyle’s companies A and B, but thethird infantry company and theweapons company would have towade ashore. The ensuing assaultwas chaotic. Many of the LVTs weredestroyed enroute by antiboat gunswhich increasingly had the rangedown pat. At least five vehicles weredriven away by the intense fire andlanded west at Ryan’s position, addinganother 113 troops to GreenBeach. What was left of CompaniesA and B stormed ashore andpenetrated several hundred feet, expandingthe “perimeter.” Other troopssought refuge along the pier or triedto commandeer a passing LVT. Kylegot ashore in this fashion, but manyof his troops did not complete thelanding until the following morning.The experience of Lieutenant GeorgeD. Lillibridge of Company A, 1st Battalion,2d Marines, was typical. HisLVT driver and gunners were shotdown by machine gun fire. The survivingcrewman got the stranded vehiclestarted again, but only inreverse. The stricken vehicle thenbacked wildly though the entire impactzone before breaking downagain. Lillibridge and his men did notget ashore until sunset.

The transport Zeilin, which hadlaunched its Marines with such fanfareonly a few hours earlier, receivedits first clear signal that things weregoing wrong on the beach when aderelict LVT chugged close asternwith no one at the controls. The shipdispatched a boat to retrieve the vehicle.The sailors discovered threedead men aboard the LVT: two Marinesand a Navy doctor. The bodieswere brought on board, thenburied with full honors at sea, thefirst of hundreds who would be consignedto the deep as a result of themaelstrom on Betio.

Communications on board Marylandwere gradually restored toworking order in the hours followingthe battleship’s early morningduel with Betio’s coast defense batteries.On board the flagship, GeneralJulian Smith tried to make sense outof the intermittent and frequentlyconflicting messages coming in overthe command net. At 1018 he orderedColonel Hall to “chop” MajorRobert H. Ruud’s LT 3/8 to Shoup’sCT Two. Smith further directed Hallto begin boating his regimental commandgroup and LT 1/8 (Major17Lawrence C. Hays, Jr.), the divisionreserve. At 1036, Smith reported toV Amphibious Corps: “Successfullanding on Beaches Red Two andThree. Toehold on Red One. Amcommitting one LT from Divisionreserve. Still encountering strongresistance throughout.”

Colonel Shoup at this time was inthe middle of a long odyssey tryingto get ashore. He paused briefly forthis memorable exchange of radiomessages with Major Schoettel.

0959: (Schoettel to Shoup)“Receiving heavy fire all alongbeach. Unable to land all. Issuein doubt.”

1007: (Schoettel to Shoup)“Boats held up on reef of rightflank Red 1. Troops receivingheavy fire in water.”

1012: (Shoup to Schoettel)“Land Beach Red 2 and workwest.”

1018: (Schoettel to Shoup) “Wehave nothing left to land.”

When Shoup’s LCVP was stoppedby the reef, he transferred to a passingLVT. His party included LieutenantColonel Evans F. Carlson,already a media legend for his earlierexploits at Makin and Guadalcanal,now serving as an observer,and Lieutenant Colonel Presley M.Rixey, commanding 1st Battalion,10th Marines, Shoup’s artillerydetachment. The LVT made three attemptsto land; each time the enemyfire was too intense. On the third try,the vehicle was hit and disabled byplunging fire. Shoup sustained apainful shell fragment wound in hisleg, but led his small party out of thestricken vehicle and into the dubiousshelter of the pier. From this position,standing waist-deep in water, surroundedby thousands of dead fishand dozens of floating bodies, Shoupmanned his radio, trying desperatelyto get organized combat unitsashore to sway the balance.

For awhile, Shoup had hopes thatthe new Sherman tanks would serveto break the gridlock. The combatdebut of the Marine medium tanks,however, was inauspicious on D-Day.The tankers were valorous, butthe 2d Marine Division had no conceptof how to employ tanks againstfortified positions. When four Shermansreached Red Beach Three latein the morning of D-Day, MajorCrowe simply waved them forwardwith orders to “knock out all enemypositions encountered.” The tankcrews, buttoned up under fire, werevirtually blind. Without accompanyinginfantry they were lost piecemeal,some knocked out by Japanese75mm guns, others damaged byAmerican dive bombers.

Six Shermans tried to land on RedBeach One, each preceded by a dismountedguide to warn of underwatershell craters. The guides wereshot down every few minutes byJapanese marksmen; each timeanother volunteer would step forwardto continue the movement.Combat engineers had blown a holein the seawall for the tanks to passinland, but the way was now blocked18with dead and wounded Marines.Rather than run over his fellow Marines,the commander reversed hiscolumn and proceeded around the“bird’s beak” towards a second openingblasted in the seawall. Operatingin the turbid waters now withoutguides, four tanks foundered in shellholes in the detour. Inland from thebeach, one of the surviving Shermansengaged a plucky Japaneselight tank. The Marine tankdemolished its smaller opponent, butnot before the doomed Japanese crewreleased one final 37mm round, aphenomenal shot, right down thebarrel of the Sherman.

By day’s end, only two of the 14Shermans were still operational,“Colorado” on Red Three and “ChinaGal” on Red One/Green Beach.Maintenance crews worked throughthe night to retrieve a third tank,“Cecilia,” on Green Beach for MajorRyan. Attempts to get light tanks intothe battle fared no better. Japanesegunners sank all four LCMs ladenwith light tanks before the boats evenreached the reef. Shoup also hadreports that the tank battalion commander,Lieutenant Colonel AlexanderB. Swenceski, had been killedwhile wading ashore (Swenceski,badly wounded, survived by crawlingatop a pile of dead bodies to keepfrom drowning until he was finallydiscovered on D+1).

Shoup’s message to the flagship at1045 reflected his frustration: “Stiffresistance. Need halftracks. Ourtanks no good.” But the RegimentalWeapons Companys halftracks,mounting 75mm guns, fared no bettergetting ashore than did any othercombat unit that bloody morning.One was sunk in its LCM by long-rangeartillery fire before it reachedthe reef. A second ran the entiregauntlet but became stuck in theloose sand at the water’s edge. Thesituation was becoming critical.

Amid the chaos along the exposedbeachhead, individual examples ofcourage and initiative inspired thescattered remnants. Staff SergeantWilliam Bordelon, a combat engineerattached to LT 2/2, provided the firstand most dramatic example on D-Daymorning. When a Japanese shelldisabled his LVT and killed most ofthe occupants enroute to the beach,Bordelon rallied the survivors andled them ashore on Red Beach Two.Pausing only to prepare explosivecharges, Bordelon personallyknocked out two Japanese positionswhich had been firing on the assaultwaves. Attacking a third emplacement,he was hit by machine gun fire,but declined medical assistance andcontinued the attack. Bordelon thendashed back into the water to rescuea wounded Marine calling for help.As intense fire opened up from yetanother nearby enemy stronghold,19the staff sergeant prepared one lastdemolition package and charged theposition frontally. Bordelon’s luckran out. He was shot and killed, laterto become the first of four men of the2d Marine Division to be awardedthe Medal of Honor.

In another incident, Sergeant RoyW. Johnson attacked a Japanese tanksingle-handedly, scrambling to theturret, dropping a grenade inside,then sitting on the hatch until thedetonation. Johnson survived this incident,but he was killed in subsequentfighting on Betio, one of 217Marine Corps sergeants to be killedor wounded in the 76-hour battle.

On Red Beach Three, a captain,shot through both arms and legs,sent a message to Major Crowe,apologizing for “letting you down.”Major Ryan recalled “a wounded sergeantI had never seen before limpingup to ask me where he wasneeded most.” PFC Moore, woundedand disarmed from his experiencestrying to drive “My Deloris” over theseawall, carried fresh ammunition upto machine gun crews the rest of theday until having to be evacuated toone of the transports. Other brave individualsretrieved a pair of 37mmantitank guns from a sunken landingcraft, manhandled them severalhundred yards ashore under nightmarishenemy fire, and hustled themacross the beach to the seawall. Thetiming was critical. Two Japanesetanks were approaching the beachhead.The Marine guns were too lowto fire over the wall. “Lift them over,”came the cry from a hundred throats,“LIFT THEM OVER!” Willing handshoisted the 900-pound guns atop thewall. The gunners coolly loaded,aimed, and fired, knocking out onetank at close range, chasing off theother. There were hoarse cheers.

Time correspondent Robert Sherrodwas no stranger to combat, butthe landing on D-Day at Betio wasone of the most unnerving experiencesin his life. Sherrod accompaniedMarines from the fourth waveof LT 2/2 attempting to wade ashoreon Red Beach Two. In his words:

No sooner had we hit thewater than the Japanesemachine guns really opened upon us.... It was painfullyslow, wading in such deepwater. And we had sevenhundred yards to walk slowlyinto that machine gun fire,looming into larger targets aswe rose onto higher ground. I20was scared, as I had never beenscared before.... Those whowere not hit would alwaysremember how the machinegun bullets hissed into thewater, inches to the right, inchesto the left.

Colonel Shoup, moving slowlytowards the beach along the pier, orderedMajor Ruud’s LT 3/8 to landon Red Beach Three, east of the pier.By this time in the morning therewere no organized LVT units left tohelp transport the reserve battalionashore. Shoup ordered Ruud to approachas closely as he could bylanding boats, then wade the remainingdistance. Ruud received his assaultorders from Shoup at 1103. Forthe next six hours the two officerswere never more than a mile apart,yet neither could communicate withthe other.

Ruud divided his landing team intoseven waves, but once the boats approachedthe reef the distinctionsblurred. Japanese antiboat gunszeroed in on the landing craft withfrightful accuracy, often hitting justas the bow ramp dropped. Survivorsreported the distinctive “clang” as ashell impacted, a split second beforethe explosion. “It happened a dozentimes,” recalled Staff Sergeant Hatch,watching from the beach, “the boatblown completely out of the waterand smashed and bodies all over theplace.” Robert Sherrod reported froma different vantage point, “I watcheda Jap shell hit directly on a [landingcraft] that was bringing many Marinesashore. The explosion was terrificand parts of the boat flew in alldirections.” Some Navy coxswains,seeing the slaughter just ahead,stopped their boats seaward of thereef and ordered the troops off. TheMarines, many loaded with radios orwire or extra ammunition, sank immediatelyin deep water; mostdrowned. The reward for thosetroops whose boats made it intact tothe reef was hardly less sanguinary:a 600-yard wade through witheringcrossfire, heavier by far than that enduredby the first assault waves at H-Hour.The slaughter among the firstwave of Companies K and L was terrible.Seventy percent fell attemptingto reach the beach.

Seeing this, Shoup and his partywaved frantically to groups of Marinesin the following waves to seekprotection of the pier. A great numberdid this, but so many officers andnoncommissioned officers had beenhit that the stragglers were shatteredand disorganized. The pier itself wasa dubious shelter, receiving intermittentmachine gun and sniper firefrom both sides. Shoup himself wasstruck in nine places, including aspent bullet which came close topenetrating his bull neck. His runnercrouching beside him was drilled betweenthe eyes by a Japanese sniper.

Captain Carl W. Hoffman, commanding3/8’s Weapons Company,had no better luck getting ashorethan the infantry companies ahead.“My landing craft had a direct hitfrom a Japanese mortar. We lost sixor eight people right there.” Hoffman’s21Marines veered toward thepier, then worked their way ashore.

Major Ruud, frustrated at beingunable to contact Shoup, radioed hisregimental commander, ColonelHall: “Third wave landed on BeachRed 3 were practically wiped out.Fourth wave landed ... but only afew men got ashore.” Hall, himself ina small boat near the line of departure,was unable to respond.Brigadier General Leo D. (“Dutch”)Hermle, assistant division commander,interceded with the message,“Stay where you are or retreat out ofgun range.” This added to the confusion.As a result, Ruud himself didnot reach the pier until mid-afternoon.It was 1730 before hecould lead the remnants of his menashore; some did not straggle in untilthe following day. Shoup dispatchedwhat was left of LT 3/8 insupport of Crowe’s embattled 2/8;others were used to help plug the gapbetween 2/8 and the combinedtroops of 2/2 and 1/2.

Shoup finally reached Betio atnoon and established a commandpost 50 yards in from the pier alongthe blind side of a large Japanesebunker, still occupied. The colonelposted guards to keep the enemyfrom launching any unwelcome sorties,but the approaches to the site itselfwere as exposed as any otherplace on the flat island. At least twodozen messengers were shot whilebearing dispatches to and fromShoup. Sherrod crawled up to thegrim-faced colonel, who admitted,“We’re in a tight spot. We’ve got tohave more men.” Sherrod looked outat the exposed waters on both sidesof the pier. Already he could count50 disabled LVTs, tanks, and boats.The prospects did not look good.

The first order of business uponShoup’s reaching dry ground was toseek updated reports from the landingteam commanders. If anything,tactical communications were worseat noon than they had been duringthe morning. Shoup still had no contactwith any troops ashore on RedBeach One, and now he could nolonger raise General Smith onMaryland. A dire message came fromLT 2/2: “We need help. Situationbad.” Later a messenger arrived fromthat unit with this report: “All communicationsout except runners. co*killed. No word from E Company.”Shoup found Lieutenant Colonel Jordan,ordered him to keep commandof 2/2, and sought to reinforce himwith elements from 1/2 and 3/8.Shoup gave Jordan an hour to organizeand rearm his assorted detachments,then ordered him to attackinland to the airstrip and expand thebeachhead.

Shoup then directed Evans Carlsonto hitch a ride out to the Marylandand give General Smith and AdmiralHill a personal report of the situationashore. Shoup’s strength of characterwas beginning to show. “You tellthe general and the admiral,” he orderedCarlson, “that we are going tostick and fight it out.” Carlsondeparted immediately, but such werethe hazards and confusion betweenthe beach and the line of departurethat he did not reach the flagship until1800.

Matters of critical resupply thencaptured Shoup’s attention. Beyondthe pier he could see nearly ahundred small craft, circling aimlessly.These, he knew, carried assortedsupplies from the transports and cargoships, unloading as rapidly as theycould in compliance with AdmiralNimitz’s stricture to “get the hell in,then get the hell out.” The indiscriminateunloading was hinderingprosecution of the fight ashore.Shoup had no idea which boat heldwhich supplies. He sent word to thePrimary Control Officer to send onlythe most critical supplies to the pierhead:22ammunition, water, bloodplasma, stretchers, LVT fuel, moreradios.

Shoup then conferred with LieutenantColonel Rixey. While navalgunfire support since the landing hadbeen magnificent, it was time for theMarines to bring their own artilleryashore. The original plan to land the1st Battalion/10th Marines, on RedOne was no longer practical. Shoupand Rixey agreed to try a landing onthe left flank of Red Two, close to thepier. Rixey’s guns were 75mm packhowitzers, boated in LCVPs. The expeditionaryguns could be brokendown for manhandling. Rixey, havingseen from close at hand whathappened when LT 3/8 had tried towade ashore from the reef, went afterthe last remaining LVTs. Therewere enough operational vehicles forjust two sections of Batteries A andB. In the confusion of transfer-lineoperations, three sections of BatteryC followed the LVTs shoreward intheir open boats. Luck was with theartillerymen. The LVTs landed theirguns intact by late afternoon. Whenthe trailing boats hung up on the reef,the intrepid Marines humped theheavy components through thebullet-swept waters to the pier andeventually ashore at twilight. Therewould be close-in fire support availableat daybreak.

Julian Smith knew little of theseevents, and he continued striving topiece together the tactical situationashore. From observation reportsfrom staff officers aloft in the floatplanes, he concluded that the situationin the early afternoon wasdesperate. Although elements of fiveinfantry battalions were ashore, theirtoehold was at best precarious. AsSmith later recalled, “the gap betweenRed 1 and Red 2 had not been closedand the left flank on Red 3 was byno means secure.”

Smith assumed that Shoup was23still alive and functioning, but hecould ill afford to gamble. For thenext several hours the commandinggeneral did his best to influence theaction ashore from the flagship.Smith’s first step was the most critical.At 1331 he sent a radio messageto General Holland Smith, reporting“situation in doubt” and requestingrelease of the 6th Marines to divisioncontrol. In the meantime, having orderedhis last remaining landing team(Hays’ 1/8) to the line of departure,Smith began reconstituting an emergencydivision reserve comprised ofbits and pieces of the artillery, engineer,and service troop units.

General Smith at 1343 orderedGeneral Hermle to proceed to the endof the pier, assess the situation andreport back. Hermle and his smallstaff promptly debarked from Monrovia(APA 31) and headed towardsthe smoking island, but the trip tookfour hours.

In the meantime, General Smithintercepted a 1458 message fromMajor Schoettel, still afloat seawardof the reef: “CP located on back ofRed Beach 1. Situation as before.Have lost contact with assault elements.”Smith answered in no uncertainterms: “Direct you land at anycost, regain control your battalionand continue the attack.” Schoettelcomplied, reaching the beach aroundsunset. It would be well into the nextday before he could work his waywest and consolidate his scatteredremnants.

At 1525, Julian Smith receivedHolland Smith’s authorization to takecontrol of the 6th Marines. This wasgood news. Smith now had four battalionlanding teams (including 1/8)available. The question then becamewhere to feed them into the fightwithout getting them chewed topieces like Ruud’s experience in tryingto land 3/8.

At this point, Julian Smith’s communicationsfailed him again. At1740, he received a faint message thatHermle had finally reached the pierand was under fire. Ten minutes later,Smith ordered Hermle to take commandof all forces ashore. To his subsequentchagrin, Hermle neverreceived this word. Nor did Smithknow his message failed to getthrough. Hermle stayed at the pier,sending runners to Shoup (who unceremoniouslytold him to “get thehell out from under that pier!”) andtrying with partial success to unscrewthe two-way movement of casualtiesout to sea and supplies to shore.

Throughout the long day ColonelHall and his regimental staff had languishedin their LCVPs adjacent toHays’ LT 1/8 at the line of departure,“cramped, wet, hungry, tired and alarge number ... seasick.” In late afternoon,Smith abruptly orderedHall to land his remaining units ona new beach on the northeast tip ofthe island at 1745 and work westtowards Shoup’s ragged lines. This25was a tremendous risk. Smith’s overridingconcern that evening was aJapanese counterattack from theeastern tail of the island against hisleft flank (Crowe and Ruud). Oncehe had been given the 6th Marines,Smith admitted he was “willing tosacrifice a battalion landing team” ifit meant saving the landing forcefrom being overrun during darkness.

Fortunately, as it turned out, Hallnever received this message fromSmith. Later in the afternoon, a floatplane reported to Smith that a unitwas crossing the line of departureand heading for the left flank of RedBeach Two. Smith and Edson assumedit was Hall and Hays going inon the wrong beach. The fog of war:the movement reported was the beginningof Rixey’s artillerymen movingashore. The 8th Marines spentthe night in its boats, waiting for orders.Smith did not discover this factuntil early the next morning.

On Betio, Shoup was pleased toreceive at 1415 an unexpected reportfrom Major Ryan that severalhundred Marines and a pair of tankshad penetrated 500 yards beyond RedBeach One on the western end of theisland. This was by far the most successfulprogress of the day, and thenews was doubly welcome becauseShoup, fearing the worst, had assumedSchoettel’s companies and theother strays who had veered in thatdirection had been wiped out.Shoup, however, was unable to conveythe news to Smith.

Ryan’s composite troops had indeedbeen successful on the westernend. Learning quickly how best tooperate with the medium tanks, theMarines carved out a substantialbeachhead, overrunning manyJapanese turrets and pillboxes. Butaside from the tanks, Ryan’s men hadnothing but infantry weapons. Critically,they had no flamethrowers ordemolitions. Ryan had learned fromearlier experience in the Solomonsthat “positions reduced only withgrenades could come alive again.” Bylate afternoon, he decided to pullback his thin lines and consolidate.“I was convinced that withoutflamethrowers or explosives to cleanthem out we had to pull back ...to a perimeter that could be defendedagainst counterattack by Japanesetroops still hidden in the bunkers.”

The fundamental choice faced bymost other Marines on Betio that daywas whether to stay put along thebeach or crawl over the seawall andcarry the fight inland. For much ofthe day the fire coming across the topof those coconut logs was so intenseit seemed “a man could lift his handand get it shot off.” Late on D-Day,there were many too demoralized toadvance. When Major RathvonMcC. Tompkins, bearing messagesfrom General Hermle to ColonelShoup, first arrived on Red BeachTwo at the foot of the pier at duskon D-Day, he was appalled at thesight of so many stragglers. Tompkinswondered why the Japanese“didn’t use mortars on the first night.People were lying on the beach sothick you couldn’t walk.”

Conditions were congested on RedBeach One, as well, but there was adifference. Major Crowe was everywhere,“as cool as ice box lettuce.”There were no stragglers. Croweconstantly fed small groups of Marinesinto the lines to reinforce hisprecarious hold on the left flank.Captain Hoffman of 3/8 was not displeasedto find his unit suddenly integratedwithin Crowe’s 2/8. AndCrowe certainly needed help as darknessbegan to fall. “There we were,”Hoffman recalled, “toes in the water,casualties everywhere, dead and26wounded all around us. But finallya few Marines started inching forward,a yard here, a yard there.” Itwas enough. Hoffman was soon ableto see well enough to call in navalgunfire support 50 yards ahead. HisMarines dug in for the night.

West of Crowe’s lines, and just inlandfrom Shoup’s command post,Captain William T. Bray’s CompanyB, 1/2, settled in for the expectedcounterattacks. The company hadbeen scattered in Kyle’s bloody landingat mid-day. Bray reported to Kylethat he had men from 12 to 14 differentunits in his company, includingseveral sailors who swam ashorefrom sinking boats. The men werewell armed and no longer strangersto each other, and Kyle wasreassured.

Altogether, some 5,000 Marineshad stormed the beaches of Betio onD-Day. Fifteen hundred of these weredead, wounded, or missing by nightfall.The survivors held less than aquarter of a square mile of sand andcoral. Shoup later described the locationof his beachhead lines thenight of D-Day as “a stock marketgraph.” His Marines went to groundin the best fighting positions theycould secure, whether in shellholesinland or along the splintered seawall.Despite the crazy-quilt defensivepositions and scrambled units,the Marines’ fire discipline was superb.The troops seemed to share acertain grim confidence; they hadfaced the worst in getting ashore.They were quietly ready for any suddenbanzai charges in the dark.

Offshore, the level of confidencediminished. General Julian Smith onMaryland was gravely concerned.“This was the crisis of the battle,” herecalled. “Three-fourths of the Islandwas in the enemy’s hands, and evenallowing for his losses he should havehad as many troops left as we hadashore.” A concerted Japanese counterattack,Smith believed, wouldhave driven most of his forces intothe sea. Smith and Hill reported upthe chain of command to Turner,Spruance, and Nimitz: “Issue remainsin doubt.” Spruance’s staff begandrafting plans for emergency evacuationof the landing force.

The expected Japanese counterattackdid not materialize. The principaldividend of all thebombardment turned out to be thedestruction of Admiral Shibasaki’swire communications. The Japanesecommander could not muster hismen to take the offensive. A few individualsinfiltrated through the Marinelines to swim out to disabledtanks and LVTs in the lagoon, wherethey waited for the morning. Otherwise,all was quiet.

The main struggle throughout thenight of D-Day was the attempt byShoup and Hermle to advise JulianSmith of the best place to land the27reserves on D+1. Smith was amazedto learn at 0200 that Hall and Hayswere in fact not ashore but still afloatat the line of departure, awaiting orders.Again, he ordered Combat TeamEight (-) to land on the eastern tip ofthe island, this time at 0900 on D+1.Hermle finally caught a boat to oneof the destroyers in the lagoon to relayShoup’s request to the commandinggeneral to land reinforcements onRed Beach Two. Smith altered Hall’sorders accordingly, but he orderedHermle back to the flagship, miffedat his assistant for not getting ashoreand taking command. But Hermlehad done Smith a good service inrelaying the advice from Shoup. Asmuch as the 8th Marines were goingto bleed in the morning’s assault, alanding on the eastern end of the islandwould have been an unmitigatedcatastrophe. Reconnaissance afterthe battle discovered those beachesto be the most intensely mined on theisland.

D+1 at Betio,
21 November 1943

The tactical situation on Betio remainedprecarious for much of the2d day. Throughout the morning, theMarines paid dearly for every attemptto land reserves or advancetheir ragged beachheads.

The reef and beaches of Tarawa alreadylooked like a charnel house.Lieutenant Lillibridge surveyed whathe could see of the beach at first lightand was appalled: “... a dreadfulsight, bodies drifting slowly in thewater just off the beach, junked amtracks.”The stench of dead bodies coveredthe embattled island like acloud. The smell drifted out to theline of departure, a bad omen for thetroops of 1st Battalion, 8th Marines,getting ready to start their run to thebeach.

Colonel Shoup, making the mostof faulty communications and imperfectknowledge of his scattered forces,ordered each landing team commanderto attack: Kyle and Jordanto seize the south coast, Crowe andRuud to reduce Japanese strongholdsto their left and front, Ryan to seizeall of Green Beach. Shoup’s predawnrequest to General Smith, relayedthrough Major Tompkins and General28Hermle, specified the landing ofHays’ LT 1/8 on Red Beach Two“close to the pier.” That key componentof Shoup’s request did not survivethe tenuous communicationsroute to Smith. The commandinggeneral simply ordered Colonel Halland Major Hays to land on Red Twoat 0615. Hall and Hays, oblivious ofthe situation ashore, assumed 1/8would be making a covered landing.

The Marines of LT 1/8 had spentthe past 18 hours embarked inLCVPs. During one of the endless circlesthat night, Chaplain W. WyethWillard passed Colonel Hall’s boatand yelled, “What are they saving usfor, the Junior Prom?” The troopscheered when the boats finallyturned for the beach.

Things quickly went awry. Thedodging tides again failed to providesufficient water for the boats to crossthe reef. Hays’ men, surprised at theobstacle, began the 500-yard trek toshore, many of them dangerously farto the right flank, fully within thebeaten zone of the multiple guns firingfrom the re-entrant strongpoint.“It was the worst possible place theycould have picked,” said “Red Mike”Edson. Japanese gunners opened anunrelenting fire. Enfilade fire camefrom snipers who had infiltrated tothe disabled LVTs offshore during thenight. At least one machine gunopened up on the wading troopsfrom the beached inter-islandschooner Niminoa at the reef’s edge.Hays’ men began to fall at everyhand.

The Marines on the beach dideverything they could to stop theslaughter. Shoup called for navalgunfire support. Two of LieutenantColonel Rixey’s 75mm pack howitzers(protected by a sand berm erectedduring the night by a Seabeebulldozer) began firing at the blockhousesat the Red 1/Red 2 border,125 yards away, with delayed fusesand high explosive shells. A flight ofF4F Wildcats attacked the hulk of theNiminoa with bombs and machineguns. These measures helped, but forthe large part the Japanese caughtHays’ lead waves in a witheringcrossfire.

Correspondent Robert Sherrodwatched the bloodbath in horror.“One boat blows up, then another.The survivors start swimming forshore, but machine gun bullets dotthe water all around them.... Thisis worse, far worse than it was yesterday.”Within an hour, Sherrod couldcount “at least two hundred bodies29which do not move at all on the dryflats.”

First Lieutenant Dean Ladd wasshot in the stomach shortly afterjumping into the water from his boat.Recalling the strict orders to thetroops not to stop for the wounded,Ladd expected to die on the spot.One of his riflemen, Private FirstClass T.F. Sullivan, ignored the ordersand saved his lieutenant’s life.Ladd’s rifle platoon suffered 12 killedand 12 wounded during the ship-to-shoreassault.

First Lieutenant Frank Plant, thebattalion air liaison officer, accompaniedMajor Hays in the commandLCVP. As the craft slammed into thereef, Plant recalled Hays shouting“Men, debark!” as he jumped into thewater. The troops that followed weregreeted by a murderous fire. Planthelped pull the wounded back intothe boat, noting that “the water allaround was colored purple withblood.” As Plant hurried to catch upwith Major Hays, he was terrified atthe sudden appearance of what hetook to be Japanese fighters roaringright towards him. These were theNavy Wildcats aiming for the nearbyNiminoa. The pilots were exuberantbut inconsistent: one bomb hitthe hulk squarely; others missed by200 yards. An angry David Shoupcame up on the radio: “Stop strafing!Bombing ship hitting own troops!”

At the end, it was the sheercourage of the survivors that gotthem ashore under such a hellishcrossfire. Hays reported to Shoup at0800 with about half his landingteam. He had suffered more than 300casualties; others were scattered allalong the beach and the pier. Worse,the unit had lost all its flamethrowers,demolitions, and heavyweapons. Shoup directed Hays to attackwestward, but both men knewthat small arms and courage alonewould not prevail against fortifiedpositions.

Shoup tried not to let his discouragementshow, but admitted ina message to General Smith “the situationdoes not look good ashore.”

The combined forces of MajorsCrowe and Ruud on Red BeachThree were full of fight and hadplenty of weapons. But their leftflank was flush against three largeJapanese bunkers, each mutuallysupporting, and seemingly unassailable.The stubby Burns-Philp commercialpier, slightly to the east of themain pier, became a bloody “no-man’sland” as the forces fought forits possession. Learning from themistakes of D-Day, Crowe insuredthat his one surviving Sherman tankwas always accompanied by infantry.

Crowe and Ruud benefitted fromintensive air support and naval gunfire30along their left flank. Crowe wasunimpressed with the accuracy andeffectiveness of the aviators (“our aircraftnever did us much good”), buthe was enthusiastic about the navalguns. “I had the Ringgold, theDashiell, and the Anderson in supportof me.... Anything I askedfor I got from them. They weregreat!” On one occasion on D+1,Crowe authorized direct fire from adestroyer in the lagoon at a largecommand bunker only 50 yardsahead of the Marines. “Theyslammed them in there and youcould see arms and legs and everythingjust go up like that!”

Inland from Red Beach Two, Kyleand Jordan managed to get some oftheir troops across the fire-swept airstripand all the way to the southcoast, a significant penetration. Thetoehold was precarious, however,and the Marines sustained heavycasualties. “You could not see theJapanese,” recalled Lieutenant Lillibridge,“but fire seemed to comefrom every direction.” When Jordanlost contact with his lead elements,Shoup ordered him across the islandto reestablish command. Jordan didso at great hazard. By the time Kylearrived, Jordan realized his ownpresence was superfluous. Only 50men could be accounted for of LT2/2’s rifle companies. Jordan organizedand supplied these survivorsto the best of his abilities, then—atShoup’s direction—merged themwith Kyle’s force and stepped backinto his original role as an observer.

The 2d Marines’ Scout Sniper Platoonhad been spectacularly heroicfrom the very start when they led theassault on the pier just before H-Hour.Lieutenant Hawkins continuouslyset an example of cool disdainfor danger in every tactical situation.His bravery was superhuman, but itcould not last in the maelstrom. Hewas wounded by a Japanese mortarshell on D-Day, but shook off attemptsto treat his injuries. At dawnon D+1 he led his men in attackinga series of strongpoints firing on LT1/8 in the water. Hawkins crawleddirectly up to a major pillbox, firedhis weapon point blank through thegun ports, then threw grenades insideto complete the job. He was shot inthe chest, but continued the attack,personally taking out three more pillboxes.Then a Japanese shell nearlytore him apart. It was a mortalwound. The division mourned hisdeath. Hawkins was awarded theMedal of Honor posthumously. SaidColonel Shoup, “It’s not often thatyou can credit a first lieutenant withwinning a battle, but Hawkins cameas near to it as any man could.”

It was up to Major Mike Ryan andhis makeshift battalion on thewestern end of Betio to make the biggestcontribution to winning the battleon D+1. Ryan’s fortunes had beengreatly enhanced by three developmentsduring the night: the absenceof a Japanese spoiling attack againsthis thin lines, the repair of the mediumtank “Cecilia,” and the arrival ofLieutenant Thomas Greene, USN, anaval gunfire spotter with a fullyfunctional radio. Ryan took his timeorganizing a coordinated attackagainst the nest of gun emplacements,pillboxes, and rifle pits concentratedon the southwest corner ofthe island. He was slowed by anotherfailure in communications. Ryancould talk to the fire support shipsbut not to Shoup. It seemed to Ryanthat it took hours for his runners tonegotiate the gauntlet of fire back tothe beach, radio Shoup’s CP, andreturn with answers. Ryan’s first messageto Shoup announcing his attackplans received the eventual response,31“Hold up—we are calling an airstrike.” It took two more runners toget the air strike cancelled. Ryan thenordered Lieutenant Greene to call innaval gunfire on the southwest targets.Two destroyers in the lagoonresponded quickly and accurately. At1120, Ryan launched a coordinatedtank-infantry assault. Within thehour his patchwork force had seizedall of Green Beach and was ready toattack eastward toward the airfield.

Communications were still terrible.For example, Ryan twice reportedthe southern end of Green Beachto be heavily mined, a message thatnever reached any higher headquarters.But General Smith on boardMaryland did receive direct word ofRyan’s success and was overjoyed. Forthe first time Smith had the opportunityto land reinforcements on a coveredbeach with their unit integrityintact.

General Smith and “Red Mike” Edsonhad been conferring that morningwith Colonel Maurice G.Holmes, commanding the 6th Marines,as to the best means of gettingthe fresh combat team ashore. Inview of the heavy casualties sustainedby Hays’ battalion on RedBeach Two, Smith was reconsideringa landing on the unknown easternend of the island. The good newsfrom Ryan quickly solved theproblem. Smith ordered Holmes toland one battalion by rubber rafts onGreen Beach, with a second landingteam boated in LCVPs prepared towade ashore in support.

At this time Smith received reportsthat Japanese troops were escapingfrom the eastern end of Betio bywading across to Bairiki, the next island.The Marines did not want tofight the same tenacious enemytwice. Smith then ordered Holmes toland one battalion on Bairiki to “sealthe back door.” Holmes assignedLieutenant Colonel Raymond L.Murray to land 2/6 on Bairiki, Major“Willie K.” Jones to land 1/6 by rubberboat on Green Beach, and LieutenantColonel Kenneth F. McLeod tobe prepared to land 3/6 at any assignedspot, probably Green Beach.Smith also ordered the light tanks ofCompany B, 2d Tank Battalion, toland on Green Beach in support ofthe 6th Marines.

These tactical plans took muchlonger to execute than envisioned.Jones was ready to debark fromFeland (APA 11) when the ship wassuddenly ordered underway to avoida perceived submarine threat. Hourspassed before the ship could returnclose enough to Betio to launch therubber boats and their LCVP towcraft. The light tanks were among thefew critical items not truly combatloaded in their transports, being carriedin the very bottom of the cargoholds. Indiscriminate unloading duringthe first 30 hours of the landinghad further scrambled supplies andequipment in intervening decks. Ittook hours to get the tanks clear andloaded on board lighters.

Shoup was bewildered by the longdelays. At 1345 he sent Jones a message:“Bring in flamethrowers if possible....Doing our best.” At 1525he queried division about the estimatedlanding time of LT 1/6. Hewanted Jones ashore and on the attackbefore dark.

Meanwhile, Shoup and his smallstaff were beset by logistic supportproblems. Already there were teamsorganized to strip the dead of theirammunition, canteens, and first aidpouches. Lieutenant Colonel Carlsonhelped organize a “false beachhead”at the end of the pier. Most progresscame from the combined efforts ofLieutenant Colonel Chester J. Salazar,commanding the shore party;Captain John B. McGovern, USN,acting as primary control officer onboard the minesweeper Pursuit (AM108); Major Ben K. Weatherwax, assistantdivision D-4; and Major GeorgeL.H. Cooper, operations officerof 2d Battalion, 18th Marines.Among them, these officers graduallybrought some order out of chaos.They assumed strict control of suppliesunloaded and used the survivingLVTs judiciously to keep theshuttle of casualties moving seawardand critical items from the pierheadto the beach. All of this was performed32by sleepless men under constantfire.

Casualty handling was the mostpressing logistic problem on D+1.The 2d Marine Division was heroicallyserved at Tarawa by its organicNavy doctors and hospitalcorpsmen. Nearly 90 of these medicalspecialists were themselves casualtiesin the fighting ashore. LieutenantHerman R. Brukhardt, MedicalCorps, USN, established an emergencyroom in a freshly capturedJapanese bunker (some of whoseformer occupants “came to life” withblazing rifles more than once). In 36hours, under brutal conditions,Brukhardt treated 126 casualties;only four died.

At first, casualties were evacuatedto troopships far out in the transportarea. The long journey was dangerousto the wounded troops andwasteful of the few available LVTs orLCVPs. The Marines then begandelivering casualties to the destroyerRinggold in the lagoon, eventhough her sickbay had beenwrecked by a Japanese five-inch shellon D-Day. The ship, still actively firingsupport missions, accepteddozens of casualties and did her best.Admiral Hill then took the risk ofdispatching the troopship Doyen(APA 1) into the lagoon early onD+1 for service as primary receivingship for critical cases. LieutenantCommander James Oliver, MC,USN, led a five-man surgical teamwith recent combat experience in theAleutians. In the next three daysOliver’s team treated more than 550severely wounded Marines. “We ranout of sodium pentathol and had touse ether,” said Oliver, “although abomb hit would have blown Doyenoff the face of the planet.”

Navy chaplains were also hard atwork wherever Marines were fightingashore. Theirs was particularlyheartbreaking work, consoling thewounded, administering last rites tothe dying, praying for the souls of thedead before the bulldozer came tocover the bodies from the unforgivingtropical sun.

The tide of battle began to shiftperceptibly towards the Americansby mid-afternoon on D+1. The fightingwas still intense, the Japanese firestill murderous, but the survivingMarines were on the move, no longergridlocked in precarious toeholds onthe beach. Rixey’s pack howitzerswere adding a new definition forclose fire support. The supply of ammunitionand fresh water was greatlyimproved. Morale was up, too.The troops knew the 6th Marineswas coming in soon. “I thought up33until 1300 today it was touch and go,”said Rixey, “then I knew we wouldwin.”

By contrast, a sense of despairseemed to spread among thedefenders. They had shot down theMarines at every turn, but with everyfallen Marine, another would appear,rifle blazing, well supported byartillery and naval guns. The greatYogaki plan seemed a bust. Only afew aircraft attacked the island eachnight; the transports were never seriouslythreatened. The Japanese fleetnever materialized. Increasingly,Japanese troops began committingsuicide rather than risk capture.

Shoup sensed this shift in momentum.Despite his frustration over theday’s delays and miscommunications,he was buoyed enough to send a 1600situation report to Julian Smith,which closed with these terse wordsthat became a classic: “Casualties:many. Percentage dead: unknown.Combat efficiency: We are winning.”

At 1655, Murray’s 2/6 landedagainst light opposition on Bairiki.During the night and early morninghours, Lieutenant Colonel GeorgeShell’s 2d Battalion, 10th Marines,landed on the same island and beganregistering its howitzers. Rixey’s firedirection center on Betio helped thisprocess, while the artillery forwardobserver attached to Crowe’s LT 2/8on Red Beach One had the unusualexperience of adjusting the fire of theBairiki guns “while looking into theirmuzzles.” The Marines had practicedthis earlier on New Zealand. Smithfinally had artillery in place onBairiki.

Meanwhile, Major Jones and LT1/6 were finally on the move. It hadbeen a day of many false starts. Atone point, Jones and his men hadbeen debarking over the sides inpreparation for an assault on theeastern end of the Betio when “TheWord” changed their mission toGreen Beach. When Feland finallyreturned to within reasonable rangefrom the island, the Marines of LT1/6 disembarked for real. Using tacticsdeveloped with the Navy duringthe Efate rehearsal, the Marines loadedon board LCVPs which towedtheir rubber rafts to the reef. Therethe Marines embarked on board their34rafts, six to 10 troops per craft, andbegan the 1,000-yard paddle towardsGreen Beach.

Major Jones remarked that he didnot feel like “The Admiral of theCondom Fleet” as he helped paddlehis raft shoreward. “Control wasnebulous at best ... the battalionwas spread out over the ocean fromhorizon to horizon. We must havehad 150 boats.” Jones was alarmed atthe frequent appearance of antiboatmines moored to coralheads beneaththe surface. The rubber rafts passedover the mines without incident, butJones also had two LVTs accompanyinghis ship-to-shore movement, eachpreloaded with ammo, rations,water, medical supplies, and spare radioequipment. Guided by the rafts,one of the LVTs made it ashore, butthe second drifted into a mine whichblew the heavy vehicle 10 feet intothe air, killing most of the crew anddestroying the supplies. It was a seriousloss, but not critical. Well coveredby Ryan’s men, the landingforce suffered no other casualtiescoming ashore. Jones’ battalion becamethe first to land on Betio essentiallyintact.

It was after dark by the time Jones’troops assumed defensive positionsbehind Ryan’s lines. The light tanksof Company B continued their attemptto come ashore on GreenBeach, but the high surf and greatdistance between the reef and thebeach greatly hindered landing efforts.Eventually, a platoon of sixtanks managed to reach the beach;the remainder of the company movedits boats toward the pier and workedall night to get ashore on Red BeachTwo. McLeod’s LT 3/6 remainedafloat in LCVPs beyond the reef, facingan uncomfortable night.

That evening Shoup turned toRobert Sherrod and stated, “Well, Ithink we’re winning, but the bastardshave got a lot of bullets left. I thinkwe’ll clean up tomorrow.”

After dark, General Smith sent hischief of staff, “Red Mike” Edson,ashore to take command of all forceson Betio and Bairiki. Shoup haddone a magnificent job, but it wastime for the senior colonel to takecharge. There were now eight reinforcedinfantry battalions and twoartillery battalions deployed on thetwo islands. With LT 3/6 scheduledto land early on D+2, virtually allthe combat and combat support elementsof the 2d Marine Divisionwould be deployed.

Edson reached Shoup’s CP by 2030and found the barrel-chested warriorstill on his feet, grimy and haggard,but full of fight. Edson assumedcommand, allowing Shoup to concentrateon his own reinforced combatteam, and began makingplans for the morning.

Years later, General Julian Smithlooked back on the pivotal day of 21November 1943 at Betio and admitted,“we were losing until we won!”Many things had gone wrong, andthe Japanese had inflicted severecasualties on the attackers, but, fromthis point on, the issue was no longerin doubt at Tarawa.

The Third Day:
D+2 at Betio,
22 November 1943

On D+2, Chicago Daily News warcorrespondent Keith Wheelerreleased this dispatch from Tarawa:“It looks as though the Marines arewinning on this blood-soaked,bomb-hammered, stinking littleabattoir of an island.”

Colonel Edson issued his attackorders at 0400. As recorded in the division’sD-3 journal, Edson’s plan forD+2 was this: “1/6 attacks at 0800to the east along south beach to establishcontact with 1/2 and 2/2. 1/8attached to 2dMar attacks at daylightto the west along north beach toeliminate Jap pockets of resistancebetween Beaches Red 1 and 2.8th Mar (-LT 1/8) continues attack toeast.” Edson also arranged for navalgunfire and air support to strike theeastern end of the island at 20-minuteinterludes throughout the morning,beginning at 0700. McLeod’s LT 3/6,still embarked at the line of departure,would land at Shoup’s call onGreen Beach.

The key to the entire plan was theeastward attack by the fresh troopsof Major Jones’ landing team, but Edsonwas unable for hours to raise the1st Battalion, 6th Marines, on anyradio net. The enterprising MajorTompkins, assistant division operationsofficer, volunteered to deliverthe attack order personally to MajorJones. Tompkins’ hair-raising odysseyfrom Edson’s CP to Green Beachtook nearly three hours, duringwhich time he was nearly shot onseveral occasions by nervousJapanese and American sentries. By35quirk, the radio nets started workingagain just before Tompkinsreached LT 1/6. Jones had the goodgrace not to admit to Tompkins thathe already had the attack order whenthe exhausted messenger arrived.

On Red Beach Two, Major Hayslaunched his attack promptly at0700, attacking westward on a three-companyfront. Engineers with satchelcharges and Bangalore torpedoeshelped neutralize several inlandJapanese positions, but the strongpointsalong the re-entrant were stillas dangerous as hornets’ nests. Marinelight tanks made brave frontalattacks against the fortifications,even firing their 37mm guns point-blankinto the embrasures, but theywere inadequate for the task. Onewas lost to enemy fire, and the othertwo were withdrawn. Hays called fora section of 75mm halftracks. Onewas lost almost immediately, but theother used its heavier gun to considerableadvantage. The center andleft flank companies managed tocurve around behind the main complexes,effectively cutting theJapanese off from the rest of the island.Along the beach, however,progress was measured in yards. Thebright spot of the day for 1/8 camelate in the afternoon when a smallparty of Japanese tried a sortie fromthe strongpoints against the Marinelines. Hays’ men, finally given realtargets in the open, cut down the attackersin short order.

On Green Beach, Major Jonesmade final preparations for the assaultof 1/6 to the east. Althoughthere were several light tanks availablefrom the platoon which cameashore the previous evening, Jonespreferred the insurance of mediumtanks. Majors “Willie K.” Jones and“Mike” Ryan were good friends; Jonesprevailed on their friendship to “borrow”Ryan’s two battle-scarred Shermansfor the assault. Jones orderedthe tanks to range no further than 50yards ahead of his lead company, andhe personally maintained radio contactwith the tank commander. Jonesalso assigned a platoon of water-cooled.30-caliber machine guns toeach rifle company and attached hiscombat engineers with their flamethrowers and demolition squads to36the lead company. The nature of theterrain and the necessity for givingHays’ battalion wide berth madeJones constrain his attack to a platoonfront in a zone of action only100 yards wide. “It was the most unusualtactics that I ever heard of,”recalled Jones. “As I moved to the easton one side of the airfield, LarryHays moved to the west, exactly opposite....I was attacking towardsWood Kyle who had 1st Battalion,2d Marines.”

Jones’ plan was sound and well executed.The advantage of having inplace a fresh tactical unit with integratedsupporting arms was immediatelyobvious. Landing Team1/6 made rapid progress along thesouth coast, killing about 250Japanese defenders and reaching thethin lines held by 2/2 and 1/2 withinthree hours. American casualties tothis point were light.

At 1100, Shoup called Jones to hisCP to receive the afternoon plan ofaction. Jones’ executive officer, MajorFrancis X. Beamer, took the occasionto replace the lead rifle company.Resistance was stiffening, the companycommander had just been shot bya sniper, and the oppressive heat wasbeginning to take a toll. Beamermade superhuman efforts to get morewater and salt tablets for his men,but several troops had already becomevictims of heat prostration. Accordingto First Sergeant Lewis J.Michelony, Tarawa’s sands were “aswhite as snow and as hot as red-whiteashes from a heated furnace.”

Back on Green Beach, now 800yards behind LT 1/6, McLeod’s LT3/6 began streaming ashore. Thelanding was uncontested butnevertheless took several hours to execute.It was not until 1100, the sametime that Jones’ leading elementslinked up with the 2d Marines, before3/6 was fully established ashore.

The attack order for the 8th Marineswas the same as the previousday: assault the strongpoints to theeast. The obstacles were just asdaunting on D+2. Three fortificationswere especially formidable: a steel pillboxnear the contested Burns-Philppier; a coconut log emplacement withmultiple machine guns; and a largebombproof shelter further inland. Allthree had been designed by AdmiralSaichiro, the master engineer, to bemutually supported by fire and observation.And notwithstanding MajorCrowe’s fighting spirit, these strongpoints37had effectively contained thecombined forces of 2/8 and 3/8 sincethe morning of D-Day.

On the third day, Crowe reorganizedhis tired forces for yet another assault.First, the former marksmanship instructorobtained cans of lubricatingoil and made his troops field strip andclean their Garands before the attack.Crowe placed his battalion executiveofficer, Major William C. Chamberlin,in the center of the three attackingcompanies. Chamberlin, a former collegeeconomics professor, was no lessdynamic than his red-mustached commander.Though nursing a painfulwound in his shoulder from D-Day,Chamberlin was a driving force in therepetitive assaults against the threestrongpoints. Staff Sergeant Hatchrecalled that the executive officer was“a wild man, a guy anybody would bewilling to follow.”

At 0930, a mortar crew underChamberlin’s direction got a direct hiton the top of the coconut log emplacementwhich penetrated the bunkerand detonated the ammunition stocks.It was a stroke of immense good fortunefor the Marines. At the sametime, the medium tank “Colorado”maneuvered close enough to the steelpillbox to penetrate it with direct75 mm fire. Suddenly, two of the threeemplacements were overrun.

The massive bombproof shelter,however, was still lethal. Improvisedflanking attacks were shot to pieces beforethey could gather momentum.The only solution was to somehow gainthe top of the sand-covered moundand drop explosives or thermitegrenades down the air vents to forcethe defenders outside. This tough assignmentwent to Major Chamberlinand a squad of combat engineers underFirst Lieutenant Alexander Bonnyman.While riflemen and machinegunners opened a rain of fire againstthe strongpoint’s firing ports, thissmall band raced across the sands andup the steep slope. The Japanese knew38they were in grave danger. Scores ofthem poured out of a rear entrance toattack the Marines on top. Bonnymanstepped forward, emptied hisflamethrower into the onrushingJapanese, then charged them with acarbine. He was shot dead, his bodyrolling down the slope, but his menwere inspired to overcome the Japanesecounterattack. The surviving engineersrushed to place explosives against therear entrances. Suddenly, severalhundred demoralized Japanese brokeout of the shelter in panic, trying toflee eastward. The Marines shot themdown by the dozens, and the tank crewfired a single “dream shot” canisterround which dispatched at least 20more.

Lieutenant Bonnyman’s gallantryresulted in a posthumous Medal ofHonor, the third to be awarded to Marineson Betio. His sacrifice almostsingle-handedly ended the stalemateon Red Beach Three. Nor is it coincidencethat two of these highest awardswere received by combat engineers.The performances of Staff SergeantBordelon on D-Day and LieutenantBonnyman on D+2 were representativeof hundreds of other engineerson only a slightly less spectacular basis.As an example, nearly a third ofthe engineers who landed in supportof LT 2/8 became casualties. Accordingto Second Lieutenant Beryl W.Rentel, the survivors used “eight casesof TNT, eight cases of gelatin dynamite,and two 54-pound blocks ofTNT” to demolish Japanese fortifications.Rentel reported that his engineersused both large blocks ofTNT and an entire case of dynamiteon the large bombproof shelteralone.

At some point during the confused,violent fighting in the 8th Marines’zone—and unknown to theMarines—Admiral Shibasaki died inhis blockhouse. The tenaciousJapanese commander’s failure to providebackup communications to theabove-ground wires destroyed duringD-Day’s preliminary bombardmenthad effectively kept him frominfluencing the battle. Japanese archivesindicate Shibasaki was able totransmit one final message to GeneralHeadquarters in Tokyo early on39D+2: “Our weapons have been destroyedand from now on everyone isattempting a final charge.... MayJapan exist for 10,000 years!”

Admiral Shibasaki’s counterpart,General Julian Smith, landed onGreen Beach shortly before noon.Smith observed the deployment ofMcLeod’s LT 3/6 inland and conferredwith Major Ryan. But Smithsoon realized he was far removedfrom the main action towards thecenter of the island. He led his groupback across the reef to its landingcraft and ordered the coxswain tomake for the pier. At this point thecommanding general received a rudeintroduction to the facts of life on Betio.Although the Japanese strongpointsat the re-entrant were beinghotly besieged by Hays’ 1/8, thedefenders still held mastery over theapproaches to Red Beaches One andTwo. Well-aimed machine gun firedisabled the boat and killed the coxswain;the other occupants had toleap over the far gunwale into thewater. Major Tompkins, ever theright man in the right place, thenwaded through intermittent fire forhalf a mile to find an LVT for thegeneral. Even this was not an altogethersafe exchange. The LVTdrew further fire, which wounded thedriver and further alarmed the occupants.General Smith did not reachEdson and Shoup’s combined CP untilnearly 1400.

“Red Mike” Edson in the meantimehad assembled his major subordinatecommanders and issued orders forcontinuing the attack to the east thatafternoon. Major Jones’ 1/6 wouldcontinue along the narrowing southcoast, supported by the pack howitzersof 1/10 and all available tanks.Colonel Hall’s two battalions of the8th Marines would continue their advancealong the north coast. Jump-offtime was 1330. Naval gunfire andair support would blast the areas foran hour in advance.

Colonel Hall spoke up on behalfof his exhausted, decimated landingteams, ashore and in direct contactsince D-Day morning. The two landingteams had enough strength forone more assault, he told Edson, butthen they must get relief. Edsonpromised to exchange the remnantsof 2/8 and 3/8 with Murray’s fresh2/6 on Bairiki at the first opportunityafter the assault.

Jones returned to his troops in hisborrowed tank and issued the necessaryorders. Landing Team 1/6 continuedthe attack at 1330, passingthrough Kyle’s lines in the process.Immediately it ran into heavy opposition.The deadliest fire came fromheavy weapons mounted in a turret-typeemplacement near the southbeach. This took 90 minutes to overcome.The light tanks were brave butineffective. Neutralization took sustained75mm fire from one of theSherman medium tanks. Resistancewas fierce throughout Jones’ zone,and his casualties began to mount.The team had conquered 800 yardsof enemy territory fairly easily in themorning, but could attain barely halfthat distance in the long afternoon.

The 8th Marines, having finallydestroyed the three-bunker nemesis,made good progress at first, but thenran out of steam past the eastern endof the airfield. Shoup had been rightthe night before. The Japanesedefenders may have been leaderless,but they still had an abundance ofbullets and esprit left. Major Crowepulled his leading elements back intodefensive positions for the night.Jones halted, too, and placed onecompany north of the airfield for adirect link with Crowe. The end ofthe airstrip was unmanned but coveredby fire.

On nearby Bairiki, all of 2/10 wasnow in position and firing artillerymissions in support of Crowe andJones. Company B of the 2d MedicalBattalion established a fieldhospital to handle the overflow ofcasualties from Doyen. Murray’s 2/6,eager to enter the fray, waited in vainfor boats to arrive to move them toGreen Beach. Very few landing craftwere available; many were crammedwith miscellaneous supplies as thetransports and cargo ships continuedgeneral unloading, regardless of theneeds of the troops ashore. On Betio,Navy Seabees were already atwork repairing the airstrip with bulldozersand graders despite enemyfire. From time to time, the Marineswould call for help in sealing abothersome bunker, and a bulldozerwould arrive to do the job nicely.Navy beachmasters and shore partyMarines on the pier continued tokeep the supplies coming in, thewounded going out. At 1550, Edsonrequested a working party “to clearbodies around pier ... hinderingshore party operations.” Late in theday the first jeep got ashore, a wildride along the pier with every remainingJapanese sniper trying totake out the driver. Sherrod commented,“If a sign of certain victorywere needed, this is it. The jeeps havearrived.”

The strain of the prolonged battlebegan to take effect. Colonel Hall40reported that one of his Navajo Indiancode-talkers had been mistakenfor a Japanese and shot. A derelict,blackened LVT drifted ashore, filledwith dead Marines. At the bottom ofthe pile was one who was still breathing,somehow, after two and a halfdays of unrelenting hell. “Water,” hegasped, “Pour some water on myface, will you?”

Smith, Edson, and Shoup werenear exhaustion themselves. Relativelyspeaking, the third day on Betiohad been one of spectacular gains,but progress overall was maddeninglyslow, nor was the end yet in sight.At 1600, General Smith sent this pessimisticreport to General Hermle,who had taken his place on theflagship:

Situation not favorable forrapid clean-up of Betio. Heavycasualties among officers makeleadership problems difficult.Still strong resistance....Many emplacements intact oneastern end of the island....In addition, many Japanesestrongpoints to westward ofour front lines within our positionthat have not been reduced.Progress slow and extremelycostly. Complete occupationwill take at least 5 days more.Naval and air bombardment agreat help but does not take outemplacements.

General Smith assumed commandof operations ashore at 1930. By thattime he had about 7,000 Marinesashore, struggling against perhaps1,000 Japanese defenders. Updatedaerial photographs revealed manydefensive positions still intactthroughout much of Betio’s easterntail. Smith and Edson believed theywould need the entire 6th Marines tocomplete the job. When Colonel Holmeslanded with the 6th Marinesheadquarters group, Smith told himto take command of his three landingteams by 2100. Smith then calleda meeting of his commanders to assignorders for D+3.

Smith directed Holmes to haveMcLeod’s 3/6 pass through the linesof Jones’ 1/6 in order to have a freshbattalion lead the assault eastward.Murray’s 2/6 would land on Green41Beach and proceed east in support ofMcLeod. All available tanks wouldbe assigned to McLeod (when MajorJones protested that he had promisedto return the two Shermans loanedby Major Ryan, Shoup told him“with crisp expletives” what he coulddo with his promise). Shoup’s 2d Marines,with 1/8 still attached, wouldcontinue to reduce the re-entrantstrongpoints. The balance of the 8thMarines would be shuttled to Bairiki.And the 4th Battalion, 10th Marineswould land its “heavy” 105mm gunson Green Beach to augment the firesof the two pack howitzer battalionsalready in action. Many of theseplans were overcome by events of theevening.

The major catalyst that alteredSmith’s plans was a series of viciousJapanese counterattacks during thenight of D+2/D+3. As Edson put it,the Japanese obligingly “gave us veryable assistance by trying to counterattack.”The end result was a dramaticchange in the combat ratiobetween attackers and survivors thenext day.

Major Jones sensed his exposedforces would be the likely target forany Banzai attack and took precautions.Gathering his artillery forwardobservers and naval fire control spotters,Jones arranged for field artillerysupport starting 75 yards from hisfront lines to a point 500 yards out,where naval gunfire would take over.He placed Company A on the left,next to the airstrip, and Company Bon the right, next to the south shore.He worried about the 150-yard gapacross the runway to Company C,but that could not be helped. Jonesused a tank to bring a stockpile ofgrenades, small arms ammunition,and water to be positioned 50 yardsbehind the lines.

The first counterattack came at1930. A force of 50 Japanese infiltratedpast Jones’ outposts in the thick42vegetation and penetrated the borderbetween the two companies south ofthe airstrip. Jones’ reserve force, comprisedof “my mortar platoon and myheadquarters cooks and bakers andadmin people,” contained the penetrationand killed the enemy in twohours of close-in fighting under theleadership of First Lieutenant Lyle“Spook” Specht. An intense fire fromthe pack howitzers of 1/10 and 2/10prevented the Japanese from reinforcingthe penetration. By 2130 the lineswere stabilized. Jones asked MajorKyle for a company to be positioned100 yards to the rear of his lines. Thebest Kyle could provide was a compositeforce of 40 troops from the 2dMarines.

The Japanese struck Jones’ linesagain at 2300. One force made anoisy demonstration across fromCompany A’s lines—taunting, clinkingcanteens against their helmets,yelling Banzai!—while a second forceattacked Company B with a silentrush. The Marines repulsed this attack,too, but were forced to use theirmachine guns, thereby revealing theirpositions. Jones asked McLeod for afull company from 3/6 to reinforcethe 2d Marines to the rear of thefighting.

A third attack came at 0300 in themorning when the Japanese movedseveral 7.7mm machine guns intonearby wrecked trucks and openedfire on the Marine automaticweapons positions. Marine NCOsvolunteered to crawl forward againstthis oncoming fire and lob grenadesinto the improvised machine gunnests. This did the job, and the battlefieldgrew silent again. Jones calledfor star shell illumination from thedestroyers in the lagoon.

At 0400, a force of some 300Japanese launched a frenzied attackagainst the same two companies. TheMarines met them with every availableweapon. Artillery fire from 10thMarines howitzers on Red Beach Twoand Bairiki Island rained a murderouscrossfire. Two destroyers in thelagoon, Schroeder (DD 301) andSigsbee (DD 502), opened up on theflanks. The wave of screaming attackerstook hideous casualties butkept coming. Pockets of men lockedtogether in bloody hand-to-handfighting. Private Jack Stambaugh ofB Company killed three screamingJapanese with his bayonet; an officerimpaled him with his samurai sword;another Marine brained the officerwith a rifle butt. First LieutenantNorman K. Thomas, acting commanderof Company B, reachedMajor Jones on the field phone, exclaiming“We’re killing them as fastas they come at us, but we can’t holdout much longer; we need reinforcements!”Jones’ reply was tough, “Wehaven’t got them; you’ve got to hold!”

Jones’ Marines lost 40 dead and100 wounded in the wild fighting,but hold they did. In an hour it wasall over. The supporting arms neverstopped shooting down the Japanese,attacking or retreating. Both destroyers43emptied their magazines of 5-inchshells. The 1st Battalion, 10th Marinesfired 1,300 rounds that longnight, many shells being unloadedover the pier while the fire missionswere underway. At first light, theMarines counted 200 dead Japanesewithin 50 yards of their lines, plus anadditional 125 bodies beyond thatrange, badly mangled by artillery ornaval gunfire. Other bodies lay scatteredthroughout the Marine lines.Major Jones had to blink back tearsof pride and grief as he walked hislines that dawn. Several of his Marinesgrabbed his arm and muttered,“They told us we had to hold, and byGod, we held.”

Completing the Task:
23–28 November 1943

“This was not only worse thanGuadalcanal,” admitted LieutenantColonel Carlson, “It was the damnedestfight I’ve seen in 30 years ofthis business.”

The costly counterattacks duringthe night of 22–23 November effectivelybroke the back of the Japanesedefense. Had they remained in theirbunkers until the bitter end, thedefenders probably would have exacteda higher toll in American lives.Facing inevitable defeat in detail,however, nearly 600 Japanese choseto die by taking the offensive duringthe night action.

The 2d Marine Division still hadfive more hours of hard fighting onBetio the morning of D+3 before theisland could be conquered. Late inthe morning, General Smith sent thisreport to Admiral Hill on Maryland:

Decisive defeat of enemycounterattack last night destroyedbulk of hostileresistance. Expect complete annihilationof enemy on Betiothis date. Strongly recommendthat you and your chief of staffcome ashore this date to get informationabout the type ofhostile resistance which will beencountered in future operations.

Meanwhile, following a systematicpreliminary bombardment, the freshtroops of McLeod’s LT 3/6 passedthrough Jones’ lines and commencedtheir attack to the east. By now, Marineassault tactics were well refined.Led by tanks and combat engineerswith flamethrowers and high explosives,the troops of 3/6 made rapidprogress. Only one bunker, a well-armedcomplex along the northshore, provided effective opposition.44McLeod took advantage of the heavybrush along the south shore tobypass the obstacle, leaving one riflecompany to encircle and eventuallyoverrun it. Momentum wasmaintained; the remaining Japaneseseemed dispirited. By 1300, McLeodreached the eastern tip of Betio, havinginflicted more than 450 Japanesecasualties at the loss of 34 of his Marines.McLeod’s report summarizedthe general collapse of the Japanesedefensive system in the eastern zonefollowing the counterattacks: “At notime was there any determined defensive....We used flamethrowers andcould have used more. Medium tankswere excellent. My light tanks didn’tfire a shot.”

The toughest fight of the fourthday occurred on the Red BeachOne/Two border where ColonelShoup directed the combined forcesof Hays’ 1/8 and Schoettel’s 3/2against the “re-entrant” strongpoints.The Japanese defenders in these positionswere clearly the mostdisciplined—and the deadliest—onthe island. From these bunkers,Japanese antiboat gunners hadthoroughly disrupted the landings offour different battalions, and theyhad very nearly killed General Smiththe day before. The seaward approachesto these strongpoints were45littered with wrecked LVTs and bloatedbodies.

Major Hays finally got someflamethrowers (from Crowe’s engineerswhen LT 2/8 was ordered tostand down), and the attack of 1/8from the east made steady, if painstaking,progress. Major Schoettel,anxious to atone for what some perceivedto be a lackluster effort on D-Day,pressed the assault of 3/2 fromthe west and south. To complete thecircle, Shoup ordered a platoon of infantryand a pair of 75mm halftracksout to the reef to keep the defenderspinned down from the lagoon. Someof the Japanese committed hara-kiri;the remainder, exhausted, fought tothe end. Hays’ Marines had been attackingthis complex ever since theirbloody landing on the morning ofD+1. In those 48 hours, 1/8 fired54,450 rounds of .30-caliber rifle ammunition.But the real damage wasdone by the special weapons of theengineers and the direct fire of thehalftracks. Capture of the largest position,a concrete pillbox near thebeach, enabled easier approaches tothe remaining bunkers. By 1300, itwas all over.

At high noon, while the fightingin both sectors was still underway, aNavy fighter plane landed on Betio’sairstrip, weaving around the Seabeetrucks and graders. Nearby Marinesswarmed over the plane to shake thepilot’s hand. A PB2Y also landed totake out press reports and the haggardobservers, including Evans Carlsonand Walter Jordan.

Admiral Hill and his staff cameashore at 1245. The naval officersmarveled at the great strength of theJapanese bunker system, realizing immediatelythe need to reconsider theirpreliminary bombardment policies.46Admiral Hill called Betio “a littleGibraltar,” and observed that “onlythe Marines could have made sucha landing.”

When Smith received the nearlysimultaneous reports from ColonelsShoup and Holmes that both finalobjectives had been seized, he wasable to share the good news with Hill.The two had worked together harmoniouslyto achieve this victory. Betweenthem, they drafted a messageto Admiral Turner and General HollandSmith announcing the end oforganized resistance on Betio. It was1305, about 76 hours after PFCMoore first rammed LVT 4-9 (“MyDeloris”) onto the seawall on RedBeach One to begin the direct assault.

The stench of death and decay wasoverwhelming. “Betio would be morehabitable,” reported Robert Sherrod,“if the Marines could leave for a fewdays and send a million buzzards in.”Working parties sought doggedly toidentify the dead; often the bodieswere so badly shattered or burned asto eliminate distinction betweenfriend and foe. Chaplains workedalongside burial teams equipped withbulldozers. General Smith’s administrativestaff worked hard to prepareaccurate casualty lists. More casualtieswere expected in the mop-upoperations in the surrounding islandsand Apamama. Particularly distressingwas the report that nearly 100 enlistedMarines were missing andpresumed dead. The changing tideshad swept many bodies of the assaulttroops out to sea. The first pilotashore reported seeing scores of floatingcorpses, miles away, over thehorizon.

The Japanese garrison was nearlyannihilated in the fighting. The Marines,supported by naval gunfire,carrier aviation, and Army Air Forceunits, killed 97 percent of the 4,836troops estimated to be on Betio duringthe assault. Only 146 prisonerswere taken, all but 17 of themKorean laborers. The Marines capturedonly one Japanese officer,30-year-old Kiyoshi Ota fromNagasaki, a Special Duty Ensign inthe 7th Sasebo Special Landing Force.Ensign Ota told his captors the garrisonexpected the landings along thesouth and southwest sectors insteadof the northern beaches. He alsothought the reef would protect thedefenders throughout periods of lowtide.

Shortly before General JulianSmith’s announcement of victory atBetio, his Army counterpart, GeneralRalph Smith, signalled “Makintaken!” In three days of sharp fightingon Butaritari Island, the Armywiped out the Japanese garrison atthe cost of 200 American casualties.Bad blood developed between“Howling Mad” Smith and RalphSmith over the conduct of this operationwhich would have unfortunateconsequences in a later amphibiouscampaign.

The grimy Marines on Betio tooka deep breath and sank to theground. Many had been awake sincethe night before the landing. As CaptainCarl Hoffman recalled, “Therewas just no way to rest; there was virtuallyno way to eat. Mostly it wasclose, hand-to-hand fighting and survivalfor three and a half days. Itseemed like the longest period of mylife.” Lieutenant Lillibridge had nonourishment at all until the afternoonof D+3. “One of my menmixed up a canteen cup full of hotwater, chocolate, coffee, and sugar,and gave it to me, saying he thoughtI needed something. It was the bestmeal I ever had.”

47

The Marines stared numbly at thedesolation that surrounded them.Lieutenant Colonel Russell Lloyd, executiveofficer of the 6th Marines,took a minute to scratch out a hastynote to his wife, saying “I’m on Tarawain the midst of the worst destructionI’ve ever seen.” Chaplain Willardwalked along Red Beach One, finallyclear of enemy pillboxes. “Alongthe shore,” he wrote, “I counted thebodies of 76 Marines staring up atme, half in, half out of the water.”Robert Sherrod also took the opportunityto walk about the island.“What I saw on Betio was, I am certain,one of the greatest works ofdevastation wrought by man.” Sherrodwhistled at the proliferation ofheavy machine guns and 77mm antiboatguns along the northwestshore. As he described one scene:

Amtrack Number 4-8 isjammed against the seawall barricade.Three waterlogged Marineslie beneath it. Four othersare scattered nearby, and thereis one hanging on a two-foot-highstrand of barbed wire whodoes not touch the coral flat atall. Back of the 77mm gun aremany hundreds of rounds of77mm ammunition.

Other Japanese forces in the Gilbertsexacted a high toll among theinvasion force. Six Japanese submarinesreached the area during D+2.One of these, the I-175, torpedoedthe escort carrier Liscome Bay justbefore sunrise on 24 November offMakin. The explosion was terrific—AdmiralHill saw the flash at Tarawa,93 miles away—and the shipsank quickly, taking 644 souls to thebottom.

The Marines on Betio conducteda joint flag-raising ceremony laterthat same morning. Two of the fewsurviving palm trees were selected aspoles, but the Marines were hard putto find a British flag. Finally, MajorHolland, the New Zealand officerwho had proved so prophetic aboutthe tides at Tarawa, produced a UnionJack. A field musician played theappropriate bugle calls; Marines allover the small island stood and saluted.Each could reckon the cost.

At this time came the good newsfrom Captain James Jones (brotherto Major “Willie K.” Jones) at Apamama.Jones’ V Amphibious CorpsReconnaissance Company had landedby rubber rafts from the transportsubmarine Nautilus during the nightof 20–21 November. The smallJapanese garrison at first kept thescouts at bay. The Nautilus then surfacedand bombarded the Japanesepositions with deck guns. This killedsome of the defenders; the remaindercommitted hara-kiri. The island wasdeemed secure by the 24th. GeneralJulian Smith sent General Hermleand McLeod’s LT 3/6 to take commandof Apamama until basedefense forces could arrive.

General Smith kept his promise tohis assault troops at Tarawa. Amphibioustransports entered the lagoonon 24 November andbackloaded Combat Teams 2 and 8.To Lieutenant Lillibridge, going backon board ship after Betio was like goingto heaven. “The Navy personnelwere unbelievably generous and kind... we were treated to a full-scale turkey48dinner.... The Navy officershelped serve the food.” But Lillibridge,like many other survivingtroop leaders, suffered from post-combattrauma. The lieutenant hadlost over half the members of his platoon,and he was consumed withguilt.

With the 2d Marines and 8th Marinesoff to Hawaii, McLeod’s 3/6 enrouteto Apamama, and Murray’s2/6 beginning its long trek throughthe other islands of the Tarawa Atoll,Major Jones’ 1/6 became the last infantryunit on Betio. Its work wastedious: burying the dead, flushingout die-hard snipers, hosting visitingdignitaries.

The first of these was MajorGeneral Holland Smith. The V AmphibiousCorps Commander flew toBetio on 24 November and spent anemotional afternoon viewing the carnagewith Julian Smith. “HowlingMad” Smith was shaken by the experience.In his words: “The sight ofour dead floating in the waters of thelagoon and lying along the blood-soakedbeaches is one I will neverforget. Over the pitted, blasted islandhung a miasma of coral dust anddeath, nauseating and horrifying.”

Major Jones recalled that HollandSmith had tears in his eyes as hewalked through the ruins. RobertSherrod also accompanied the generals.They came upon one sight thatmoved all of them to tears. It was adead Marine, leaning forwardagainst the seawall, “one arm stillsupported upright by the weight ofhis body. On top of the seawall, justbeyond his upraised hand, lies a blueand white flag, a beach marker to tellsucceeding waves where to land.”Holland Smith cleared his throat andsaid, “How can men like that ever bedefeated?”

Company D, 2d Tank Battalion,was designated as the scout companyfor the 2d Marine Division for theTarawa operation. Small elements ofthese scouts landed on Eita and BuotaIslands while the fighting on Betiostill raged, discovering andshadowing a sizeable Japanese force.On 23 November, LieutenantColonel Manley Curry’s 3d Battalion,10th Marines, landed on Eita. Thebattalion’s pack howitzers were initiallyintended to augment fires onBetio; when that island finally fell,the artillerymen turned their guns tosupport the 2d Battalion, 6th Marines,in clearing the rest of the islandsin the atoll.

Lieutenant Colonel Murray’s LT2/6 boarded boats from Betio at 0500on 24 November and landed on Buota.Murray set a fierce pace, the Marinesfrequently wading across thesandspits that joined the succeedingislands. Soon he was out of range ofCurry’s guns on Eita. Curry detachedBattery G to follow Murray in trace.The Marines learned from friendlynatives that a Japanese force of about175 naval infantry was ahead on thelarger island of Buariki, near thenorthwest point of the atoll. Murray’slead elements caught up with the enemy49at dusk on 26 November. Therewas a sharp exchange of fire in verythick vegetation before both sidesbroke contact. Murray positioned hisforces for an all-out assault in themorning.

The battle of Buariki on 27November was the last engagementin the Gilberts, and it was just asdeadly as each preceding encounterwith the Special Naval LandingForces. Murray attacked the Japanesedefensive positions at first light, gettingone salvo of supporting fire fromBattery G before the lines became toointermingled in the extended melee.Here the fighting was similar toGuadalcanal: much hand-to-handbrawling in tangled underbrush. TheJapanese had no elaborate defensesas on Betio, but the Imperial sea soldierstook advantage of cover and concealment,made every shot count,and fought to the last man. All 175were slain. Murray’s victory wasdearly bought: 32 officers and menkilled, 59 others wounded. The followingday, the Marines crossed tothe last remaining islet. There wereno more Japanese to be found. On28 November, Julian Smith announced“remaining enemy forces onTarawa wiped out.”

Admirals Nimitz and Spruancecame to Betio just before JulianSmith’s announcement. Nimitzquickly saw that the basic Japanesedefenses were still intact. He directedhis staff to diagnose the exact constructionmethods used; within amonth an identical set of bunkers andpillboxes was being built on the navalbombardment island of Kahoolawein the Hawaiian Islands.

Admiral Nimitz paused to presentthe first of many combat awards toMarines of the 2d Marine Division.In time, other recognition followed.The entire division was awarded thePresidential Unit Citation. ColonelDavid Monroe Shoup received theMedal of Honor. Major “Jim” Croweand his executive officer, Major BillChamberlin, received the NavyCross. So did Lieutenant ColonelHerb Amey (posthumously), MajorMike Ryan, and Corporal John Spillane,the LVT crewchief and prospectivebaseball star who caught theJapanese hand grenades in mid-air onD-Day before his luck ran out.

Some of the senior officers in thedivision were jealous of Shoup’s Medalof Honor, but Julian Smith knewfull well whose strong shoulders hadborne the critical first 36 hours of theassault. Shoup was philosophical. Ashe recorded in his combat notebook,“With God and the U.S. Navy indirect support of the 2d MarDivthere was never any doubt that wewould get Betio. For several hours,however, there was considerable hagglingover the exact price we were topay for it.”

50

The Significance of Tarawa

The costs of the forcible seizure ofTarawa were two-fold: the loss ofMarines in the assault itself, followedby the shock and despair of the nationupon hearing the reports of thebattle. The gains at first seemed smallin return, the “stinking little island”of Betio, 8,000 miles from Tokyo. Intime, the practical lessons learned inthe complex art of amphibious assaultbegan to outweigh the initialadverse publicity.

The final casualty figures for the2d Marine Division in OperationGalvanic were 997 Marines and 30sailors (organic medical personnel)dead; 88 Marines missing and presumeddead; and 2,233 Marines and59 sailors wounded. Total casualties:3,407. The Guadalcanal campaignhad cost a comparable amount ofMarine casualties over six months;Tarawa’s losses occurred in a periodof 76 hours. Moreover, the ratio ofkilled to wounded at Tarawa was significantlyhigh, reflecting thesavagery of the fighting. The overallproportion of casualties among thoseMarines engaged in the assault wasabout 19 percent, a steep but “acceptable”price. But some battalionssuffered much higher losses. The 2dAmphibian Tractor Battalion lostover half the command. The battalionalso lost all but 35 of the 125LVT’s employed at Betio.

Lurid headlines—“The BloodyBeaches of Tarawa”—alarmed Americannewspaper readers. Part of thiswas the Marines’ own doing. Manyof the combat correspondents invitedalong for Operation Galvanic hadshared the very worst of the hell ofBetio the first 36 hours, and they simplyreported what they observed.Such was the case of Marine CorpsMaster Technical Sergeant James C.Lucas, whose accounts of the fightingreceived front-page coverage inboth The Washington Post and TheNew York Times on 4 December1943. Colonel Shoup was furiouswith Lucas for years thereafter, butit was the headline writers for bothpapers who did the most damage(The Times: “Grim Tarawa Defensea Surprise, Eyewitness of Battle Reveals;Marines Went in Chuckling, ToFind Swift Death Instead of EasyConquest.”).

Nor did extemporaneous remarksto the media by some of the seniorMarines involved in Operation Galvanichelp soothe public concerns.Holland Smith likened the D-Day assaultto Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg.“Red Mike” Edson said theassault force “paid the stiffest pricein human life per square yard” atTarawa than any other engagementin Marine Corps history. Evans Carlsontalked graphically of seeing 100of Hays men gunned down in thewater in five minutes on D+1, a considerableexaggeration. It did nothelp matters when Headquarters MarineCorps waited until 10 days afterthe battle to release casualty lists.

The atmosphere in both Washingtonand Pearl Harbor was particularlytense during this period. GeneralMacArthur, still bitter that the 2dMarine Division had been takenfrom his Southwest Pacific Command,wrote the Secretary of Warcomplaining that “these frontal attacksby the Navy, as at Tarawa, area tragic and unnecessary massacre ofAmerican lives.” A woman wrote AdmiralNimitz accusing him of “murderingmy son.” Secretary of theNavy Frank Knox called a press conferencein which he blamed “a suddenshift in the wind” for exposingthe reef and preventing reinforcementsfrom landing. Congress proposeda special investigation. TheMarines were fortunate to haveGeneral Alexander A. Vandegrift in51Washington as the newly appointed18th Commandant. Vandegrift, thewidely respected and highly decoratedveteran of Guadalcanal, quietlyreassured Congress, pointing out that“Tarawa was an assault from beginningto end.” The casualty reportsproved to be less dramatic than expected.A thoughtful editorial in the27 December 1943 issue of The NewYork Times complimented the Marinesfor overcoming Tarawa’ssophisticated defenses and fanaticalgarrison, warning that future assaultsin the Marshalls might result in heavierlosses. “We must steel ourselvesnow to pay that price.”

The controversy was stirred againafter the war when General HollandSmith claimed publicly that “Tarawawas a mistake!” Significantly, Nimitz,Spruance, Turner, Hill, Julian Smith,and Shoup disagreed with that assessment.

Admiral Nimitz did not waver.“The capture of Tarawa,” he stated,“knocked down the front door to theJapanese defenses in the Central Pacific.”Nimitz launched the Marshallscampaign only 10 weeks after the seizureof Tarawa. Photo-reconnaissanceand attack aircraft from thecaptured airfields at Betio andApamama provided invaluable support.Of greater significance to successin the Marshalls were the lessonslearned and the confidence gleanedfrom the Tarawa experience.

Henry I. Shaw, Jr., for many yearsthe Chief Historian of the MarineCorps, observed that Tarawa was theprimer, the textbook on amphibiousassault that guided and influenced allsubsequent landings in the CentralPacific. Shaw believed that theprompt and selfless analyses whichimmediately followed Tarawa wereof great value: “From analyticalreports of the commanders and fromtheir critical evaluations of whatwent wrong, of what needed improvement,and of what techniquesand equipment proved out in combat,came a tremendous outpouringof lessons learned.”

All participants agreed that theconversion of logistical LVTs to assaultcraft made the difference betweenvictory and defeat at Betio.There was further consensus that theLVT-1s and LVT-2s employed in theoperation were marginal againstheavy defensive fires. The Alligatorsneeded more armor, heavier armament,more powerful engines, auxiliarybilge pumps, self-sealing gastanks—and wooden plugs the size of13mm bullets to keep from beingsunk by the Japanese M93 heavymachine guns. Most of all, thereneeded to be many more LVTs, atleast 300 per division. Shoup wantedto keep the use of LVTs as reef-crossingassault vehicles a secret, butthere had been too many reporters onthe scene. Hanson W. Baldwin brokethe story in The New York Times asearly as 3 December.

Naval gunfire support got mixedreviews. While the Marines were enthusiasticabout the response fromdestroyers in the lagoon, they werecritical of the extent and accuracy ofthe preliminary bombardment, especiallywhen it was terminated soprematurely on D-Day. In MajorRyan’s evaluation, the significantshortcoming in Operation Galvanic“lay in overestimating the damagethat could be inflicted on a heavily52defended position by an intense butlimited naval bombardment, and bynot sending in the assault forces soonenough after the shelling.” MajorSchoettel, recalling the pounding hisbattalion had received from emplacementswithin the seawall, recommendeddirect fire against the face ofthe beach by 40mm guns from close-indestroyers. The hasty, saturationfires, deemed sufficient by plannersin view of the requirement for strategicsurprise, proved essentially useless.Amphibious assaults againstfortified atolls would most of all needsustained, deliberate, aimed fire.

While no one questioned the braveryof the aviators who supported theBetio assault, many questionedwhether they were armed and trainedadequately for such a difficult target.The need for closer integration of allsupporting arms was evident.

Communications throughout theBetio assault were awful. Only theingenuity of a few radio operatorsand the bravery of individual runnerskept the assault reasonably coherent.The Marines needed waterproof radios.The Navy needed a dedicatedamphibious command ship, not amajor combatant whose big gunswould knock out the radio nets witheach salvo. Such command ships, theAGCs, began to appear during theMarshalls campaign.

Other revisions to amphibiousdoctrine were immediately indicated.The nature and priority of unloadingsupplies should henceforth becomethe call of the tacticalcommander ashore, not the amphibioustask force commander.

Betio showed the critical need forunderwater swimmers who couldstealthily assess and report reef,beach, and surf conditions to the taskforce before the landing. This concept,first envisioned by amphibiouswarfare prophet Major Earl “Pete” Ellisin the 1920s, came quickly to fruition.Admiral Turner had a fledglingUnderwater Demolition Team onhand for the Marshalls.

The Marines believed that, withproper combined arms training, thenew medium tanks would be valuableassets. Future tank training wouldemphasize integrated tank, infantry,engineer, and artillery operations.Tank-infantry communications neededimmediate improvement. Mostcasualties among tank commandersat Betio resulted from the individualshaving to dismount from their vehiclesto talk with the infantry in theopen.

The backpack flamethrower wonuniversal acclaim from the Marineson Betio. Each battalion commanderrecommended increases in quantity,range, and mobility for these assaultweapons. Some suggested that largerversions be mounted on tanks andLVTs, presaging the appearance of“Zippo Tanks” in later campaigns inthe Pacific.

Julian Smith rather humblysummed up the lessons learned atTarawa by commenting, “We madefewer mistakes than the Japs did.”

Military historians Jeter A. Iselyand Philip A. Crowl used differentwords of assessment: “The capture ofTarawa, in spite of defects in execution,conclusively demonstrated thatAmerican amphibious doctrine wasvalid, that even the strongest islandfortress could be seized.”

The subsequent landings in theMarshalls employed this doctrine, asmodified by the Tarawa experience,to achieve objectives against similartargets with fewer casualties and inless time. The benefits of OperationGalvanic quickly began to outweighthe steep initial costs.

In time, Tarawa became a symbolof raw courage and sacrifice on thepart of attackers and defenders alike.Ten years after the battle, GeneralJulian Smith paid homage to bothsides in an essay in Naval InstituteProceedings. He saluted the heroismof the Japanese who chose to diealmost to the last man. Then heturned to his beloved 2d Marine Divisionand their shipmates in TaskForce 53 at Betio:

For the officers and men, Marinesand sailors, who crossedthat reef, either as assaulttroops, or carrying supplies, orevacuating wounded I can onlysay that I shall forever think ofthem with a feeling of reverenceand the greatest respect.

Sources

Much of this history is based on first-hand accountsas recorded by the surviving participants.One rich source is contained in the USMC archivesmaintained by the Washington National RecordsGroup in Suitland, Maryland. Of special value arethe 2d Marine Division’s Operations Order 14(25Oct43) and Special Action Report (6Jan44).Other useful documents in the archives include thecombat reports of 2d Tank Battalion and 2d AmphibianTractor Battalion; the Division D-3 Journalfor 20–24Nov43; the D-2 POW InterrogationReports; “comments on equipment and procedures”by the battalion commanders; and the exhaustiveintelligence report, “Study of Japanese Defenses onBetio Island” (20Dec43). The Marine Corps HistoricalCenter’s Personal Papers Collection containsColonel Shoup’s combat notebook, as well as hisafter-action report, comments during the PearlHarbor conference on LVTs, comments on draft historiesin 1947 and 1963, and his remarks for therecord at various anniversaries of the battle. Alengthy account of the Betio assault is found in thetranscript of Colonel Merritt Edson’s briefing to thestaff officers of the Marine Corps Schools after thebattle (6Jan44). The Personal Papers Collection alsoincludes worthwhile Tarawa accounts by GeneralJulian C. Smith, 2dLt George D. Lillibridge, 1stLtFrank Plant, and LtCol Russell Lloyd, used herein.

Other useful Tarawa information can be gleanedfrom the MCHC’s Oral History Collection, whichcontains recollections by such participants asGeneral Smith; Eugene Boardman; Major HenryP. Crowe; Staff Sergeant Norman Hatch; BrigadierGeneral Leo Hermle; Admiral Harry Hill, USN;Captain Carl Hoffman; Major Wood Kyle; MajorWilliam K. Jones; and Lieutenant Colonel RaymondL. Murray. Other contemporary accounts includenewspaper essays written by warcorrespondents on the scene, such as Robert Sherrod,Richard Johnston, Keith Wheeler, and EarlWilson.

The author also benefitted from direct correspondencewith four retired Marines who servedwith valor at Tarawa: Lieutenant General WilliamK. Jones; Major General Michael P. Ryan; SergeantMajor Lewis J. Michelony, Jr.; and Master SergeantEdward J. Moore. Further, the author gratefullyacknowledges the donation of two rare photographsof the Japanese garrison on Betio by the2d Marine Division Association.

Errata

Please make the following changes in the WorldWar II 50th anniversary commemorative monographnoted:

Opening Moves: Marines Gear Up For War

Page 16, the correct armament for the GrumannF4F Wildcat is two .50-caliber machine gunsmounted in each wing instead of four.

First Offensive: The Marine Campaign forGuadalcanal

Page 43, the correct hull number for the cruiserAtlanta should be CL(AA) 51 instead of CL 104.

Outpost in the Atlantic: Marines in the Defenseof Iceland

Photographs accredited to the Col Chester M.Craig Collection should be accredited instead tothe Col Clifton M. Craig Collection.

Page 5, sidebar on “Uniforms and Equipment”—theenlisted Marine wore an almost black cow-skinbelt called a “fair leather belt” instead of “... a widecordovan leather ‘Peter Bain’” belt.

Page 8 and passim, the British division basedon Iceland was the 49th Division, not the 79th Division.

About the Author

Colonel Joseph H. Alexander, USMC (Ret),served 29 years on active duty as an assaultamphibian officer, including two tours in Vietnam.He earned an undergraduate degree in historyfrom the University of North Carolina andmasters’ degrees in history and government fromGeorgetown and Jacksonville. He is a distinguishedgraduate of the Naval War College, a memberof the Society for Military History, and a lifemember of the Marine Corps Historical Foundation.

Colonel Alexander, an independent historian, is the author of military essayspublished in Marine Corps Gazette, Naval Institute Proceedings, Naval History,Leatherneck, Amphibious Warfare Review, and Florida Historical Quarterly. Heis co-author (with Lieutenant Colonel Merrill L. Bartlett) of “Sea Soldiers in theCold War” (Naval Institute Press, accepted).