With the Old Breed_ At Peleliu and Okinawa - E. B. Sledge [36]
* LSTs were a class of shallow-draft amphibious ships developed just before World War II. An LST could drive its front end directly onto a beach and then unload its cargo of vehicles through the large clamshell doors that formed the ship's bow when closed. Or as in the case at Peleliu, LSTs could debark troop-carrying assault amphibians (amtracs) at sea. Advanced models of the LST serve the American fleet today.
* During World War II, amphibious planners considered the safe ratio of attackers to defenders in an amphibious assault to be three to one. To the leaders at Peleliu, the total Marine force of 30,000 provided a safe margin over the Japanese. Although at least one regimental commander—the redoubtable Col. Lewis B. (“Chesty”) Puller—pointed out the disparity in actual combat forces, the division's commander, Maj. Gen. William H. Rupertus, and his staff believed his fears were groundless.
* In a sealed letter opened D day minus I by civilian news correspondents assigned to cover the battle, Maj. Gen. William H. Rupertus predicted that Peleliu would fall in four days after a short, tough fight. His forecast colored the tactical thinking ashore for much of the next month. Because of his optimism, many of the thirty-six newsmen never went ashore; of those who did, only six stayed through the critical early stages of the battle. Thus, the medium's eyes saw little of what actually happened.
* Cpl. Merriell A. (“Snafu”) Shelton came from Louisiana.
CHAPTER FOUR
Assault into Hell
H hour, 0800. Long jets of red flame mixed with thick black smoke rushed out of the muzzles of the huge battleships’ 16-inch guns with a noise like a thunderclap. The giant shells tore through the air toward the island, roaring like locomotives.
“Boy, it must cost a fortune to fire them 16-inch babies,” said a buddy near me.
“Screw the expense,” growled another.
Only less impressive were the cruisers firing 8-inch salvos and the host of smaller ships firing rapid fire. The usually clean salty air was strong with the odors of explosives and diesel fuel. While the assault waves formed up and my amphibious tractor lay still in the water with engines idling, the tempo of the bombardment increased to such intensity that I couldn't distinguish the reports of the various types of weapons through the thunderous noise. We had to shout at each other to be heard. The big ships increased their fire and moved off to the flanks of the amtrac formations when we started in so as not to fire over us at the risk of short rounds.
We waited a seeming eternity for the signal to start toward the beach. The suspense was almost more than I could bear. Waiting is a major part of war, but I never experienced any more supremely agonizing suspense than the excruciating torture of those moments before we received the signal to begin the assault on Peleliu. I broke out in a cold sweat as the tension mounted with the intensity of the bombardment. My stomach was tied in knots. I had a lump in my throat and swallowed only with great difficulty. My knees nearly buckled, so I clung weakly to the side of the tractor. I felt nauseated and feared that my bladder would surely empty itself and reveal me to be the coward I was. But the men around me looked just about the way I felt. Finally, with a sense of fatalistic relief mixed with a flash of anger at the navy officer who was our wave commander, I saw him wave his flag toward the beach. Our driver revved the engine. The treads churned up the water, and we started in—the second wave ashore.
We moved ahead, watching the frightful spectacle. Huge geysers of water rose around the amtracs ahead of us as they approached the reef. The beach was now marked along its length by a continuous sheet of flame backed by a thick wall of smoke. It seemed as though a huge volcano had erupted from the sea, and rather than heading for an island, we were being drawn into the vortex of a flaming abyss. For many it was to be oblivion.
The lieutenant