Battle of Iwo Jima ~by Ruben

BATTLE OF IWO JIMA
"Hey, it's Ira! The great hero from Iwo Jima!" exclaimed the crowd .
"I'm no hero; the real hero's are the ones who died for our country," said IRA in drunk voice.
"Anyone who served in WWII is a hero. Come on Ira. Tell us your story!"
"OK, " IRA said with a drunken look on his face. "But only if it will shut you up!"
The crowd screamed with joy


As soon as we hit the beach of Iwo Jima, the men to my right and my left were hit by mortars. My brain told my legs to move, but they did not respond. Bullets flew every which way barely missing me. The man in front of me jerked involuntarily as a hole ripped through him large enough to frame the Japanese gunner who was firing. Finally, Rene, one of the other soldiers, pulled me down on the dark sand. When I finally came back down to earth, I realized how much blood there was on the sand and how many boats had been destroyed. The beach was strewn with brains, intestines, and everything else usually kept inside the human body. Our commander, Stank, ordered us to take out the bunker that contained the man and the 47 caliber machine gun that was ripping through our men. We chucked every grenade we had at the enemy. BANG. BANG. The explosion was great. The Japs couldn’t see, but that didn’t stop them. They shot blindly; firing even on their own soldiers without knowing it. My whole squad stopped at one point, but I kept on running. I heard the whiz of bullets coming toward me. Once I reached the top of the bunker, I pointed my Thompson down and pulled the trigger, decimating every living soul in the bunker.

"Nice job, Hayes," yelled Strank, "those Japs probably didn't even know what happened until they met the devil himself!" I only grinned at the compliment. The whole squad sat in the bunker looking at the holes in the roof, shock registering on their faces. No one ever excepted that an Indian from a reservation would have the guts to do what no other man in the squad would dare to do. Their thoughts were suddenly put into place.

Now that we had taken the beaches, Mount Surabachi was our next target. As we climbed the mountain, struggling to gain control, more and more marines fell to the bullets of the Japanese. The bodies of the dead were filled with bullets coming from the Japanese. More and more bullets flew toward me, missing by centimeters. A bullet whizzed past me and hit Bradley in the leg. I watched as he fell a couple feet before the medics carried him away on a stretcher. After that, rage flowed through me like it was the blood pumped by my heart and soul. The only thing that mattered to me now was killing as many of the Japanese as possible. I wanted revenge for Bradley. I pulled out another magazine for my Thompson, my hand shaking. The deafening noises surrounding me only made it harder to concentrate. I put the magazine into the gun and let the hot lead fly from the barrel, hoping at least one bullet would hit its target, a Japanese gunner on the mountain. Finally after two magazines, one bullet hit its target. I watched a Japanese soldier grab his chest. The bullet breaking any bone in its path.

After the gunner was taken out, a lot of the heat let down. My squad was able to charge up the mountain. Once on top, we went into close quarters combat (cqc). One Japanese soldier pulled out a knife and came at me. I hit the knife out of his hand, and then I kicked the Jap over a nearby cliff. There was a scream, but before I could see the Jap hit the ground, another Jap armed with a knife came at me. I pulled my pistol out and shot the man in the chest cavity. He fell to the ground a couple inches from the edge of the cliff. As I was looking down at him, a grenade rolled to my feet. I kicked, but it still knocked me over. I opened my eyes and bullets were still flying everywhere. I couldn’t think straight or aim right, so I got on a mounted machine gun, the jap still holding his chest dying slowly, i shoved him out of the seat, grabbed the gun and fired blindly into the crowd of Japanese soldiers. Long after every Japanese soldier was dead and the mounted gun was out of bullets, I still kept my finger tightly closed on the trigger. The constant sound of clicking came from the empty gun. Finally, Rene came over and calmed me down. It was then we realized that we were half way to taking the island.

After we had taken Mt. Surabachi, my squad raised the American flag, more mortar fire came and we raced down the mountain to suppress the Japanese and keep them from getting any closer. All six of the flag raisers were there on their knees in the sand covered in blood. Most of it was American blood.

Strank was drawing a plan for us in the sand, and we heard the sound of mortar fire again. Then...suddenly, Strank was hit. He shattered; his guts, brain matter, arms and legs flew in every direction. We all just sat in shock. Our first in command had just been blown to pieces right before our eyes. "What are we supposed to do now?" someone asked, for all I know it could have been me. Finally someone else stepped up and took our commander’s place, Corporal Bradley.

"Well? Are we just going to sit here in grief because one man sacrificed his life for his country? If you haven't noticed that's has been happening all around you!” yelled Bradley. "Are we going to sit here and cry or are we going to kill some Japs and help our country and win this island over!" Little did Bradley know that those would be his last words, for just an hour later as we were rushing into more Japanese resistance, Bradley came to the same fate as Strank, leaving only four of us: Block, Rene, Franklin, and me.

After we had a better handle on the island, we started to get shipments of flamethrowers and gallons of gasoline from our allies. We had more and more marines come in to help secure the island. We had pretty much taken over the island all we needed to do is clear out the foxholes and get the Japanese out into the open. We poured gasoline in the entrances of the foxholes and had men waiting with guns to either shoot resistant Japs or take them prisoners. We all knew that a Japanese soldier would rather fight to the death than to surrender. We were ready. At other times we would use the flamethrowers to chase them out into the open so that our sharp shooters could shoot them. Of course we couldn’t get all the foxholes, but that would be dealt with later.

Finally, Franklin, Rene, and I were running back to the boats. Rene in front of me and Franklin was in back. I was looking at Franklin, and he had an expression on his face that said, "We did it! We finally did it!" He was proud. Then, I heard a sound that was too familiar, and Franklin dropped, a hole in his back oozed color red. Looking past him, I saw a Jap running back into a foxhole. Rage flowed through me mixed with my own blood. I took my last grenade. I pulled the pin and held the trigger to let it cook. I then turned around and threw it into the foxhole. The Jap crawled out and yelled something I didn't understand, but it was too late for him. The grenade exploded.

They had to pull me back before I went back in and got myself killed. We loaded onto the boat. Once we were on the way to Okinawa, I decided to stop making friends. Maybe if I didn't make friends, I wouldn't care if they died. I know that every death touched my heart, ripping a bit of it away. One bit for each of my fellow marines who died. Was it possible to witness all that death and not care? not be impacted? I pondered these questions until my head ached. Finally, we reached Okinawa...

(Thump!)

The crowd gasped as they stared at Ira laying on the bar room floor. He had survived Iwo Jima and Okinawa, but he would not survive this night. Ira lay dead on the floor of the bar. As the crowd disapated, they all knew a bit of their heart was ripped away. They all knew this is what war does to people.

By ~ Ruben