Someone mentioned to me the other day that February 19th through March 26 this year, marks the 70th anniversary of WWII's ferocious US invasion of Iwo Jima which was then (c.1945), a mid Pacific fortress of the Japanese.
In February, 2004, I was fortunate enough to mark the occasion of that military action, by hosting a group of veterans of the Iwo Jima invasion in my home. They were my Dad's WWII military buddies, and in 2004 they held what was most likely their final reunion in Portland.
Though Dad never made it to the shores of Iwo Jima due to a freak accident shipboard in Honolulu Harbor, the rest of his shipmates did. While Dad recovered in several military hospitals, his ship sailed on to support the invasion, ferrying soldiers back and forth to the island. His buddies never forgot each other, and never forgot Dad. Of all of them, they told me, he suffered the most serious wartime injury.
Dad passed in 2012. And I am sorry to say, I don't know about the rest. But I was so moved by their little reunion in 2004, that I wrote a story about it, and submitted it to the Oregonian newspaper. It was published that week in a column titled, "In My Opinion." As a 70th anniversary memorial and tribute to my Dad and his buddies, I once again, share that story.
########
"February
19, 2004. A memorial is underway this night, for a
young soldier, a local American hero, who gave his life in Iraq. He was 19. At the same hour, on this same rainy night, a
different commemoration is taking place.
The participants are all well over 80 years old.
They are my Dad’s war buddies. In their youth, some 69 years ago, they served together on
U.S. Coast Guard LST 792. Now some walk
with canes. Some need magnifying lenses
to help them see. My Dad's hands
shake. They come to Portland
from cities up and down the West Coast: Seattle,
San Jose, and El Cajon.
They are at my house because one of them has
brought a video to share with his buddies and Dad doesn’t own a VCR. But we do, and we also have a “big screen” TV. We worry
until they all arrive safely on this dark, rainy night. Then I pop in the
video.
To my
surprise, what appears on our big TV is not a recording of family vacations and
oodles of grandchildren, but, the History Channel’s epic production, “The Color of War -
War in the Pacific”. And World War II takes
over the big screen. They recognize
everything!
It finally
dawns on me that this is not an ordinary reunion, but a special commemoration; much to my embarrassment I realize it is
the 59th Anniversary of the invasion of Iwo Jima, which began on
February 19th, 1945. They had
been there, they remembered and they wanted to be together this night.
I didn’t know.
How could I not know?
I didn’t know.
How could I not know?
It turns out, the
video is a huge success. They know the
newsreel locations. They correct the narrator when he is wrong. They are sure the tall young sailor in one
shot is “Ray” who is sitting there with us.
We rewind to be sure. It is
inconclusive.
We
“pause” the VCR several times when LST 792, their beloved ship, appears briefly
on the TV screen.
Watching
and listening with them, I can see, smell and taste the battle. I see the dead lying on the beach; I feel the
fear.
It
was the fiercest battle of the Pacific war.
Over 900 US ships
came to “Iwo”
to push the Japanese out. They told me more than 6,000 soldiers died in the first days of
ferocious battle.
Their
personal recollections become the color commentary: "a
kamikaze pilot zeroing in on them with return artillery fire so thick a man
could have walked on it; Joe Rosenthal comes aboard to rest and have a cup of
coffee. “Joe” was the war photographer
who captured on film a moment for all time, as Marines planted the American flag
at the top of Mt.
Suribachi." (see photo above)
I
am in awe. 59 years ago these octogenarians were 19-year-old boys, handsome,
vibrant, and in the prime of their life, so much like the soldier whose family is
remembering his brief life across town on this rainy night.
It occurs to me that time merely changes the faces of the young soldiers and sailors who go to war, and technology makes contemporary warfare a vastly different thing. But, those who go to war now and those who went then are very special: they are youngsters who are heroes all.
And
perhaps most importantly, I wonder who will be left to remember those who died on Iwo Jima after Dad and
his buddies are gone?"
(in memory 6,821 who died at Iwo Jima, in the weeks after February, 19th,1945)
****I promise, I will remember.
****I promise, I will remember.
