'Round the Girdled Earth

Letters from Dartmouth Men in the Armed Forces

The following excerpt is from a letterwritten by ENSIGN DAVID K. PATTER-SON '44, USCGR, who participated in theinvasion of Iwo Jima. He is attached to anLST in the Pacific area.

Though according to the usual regulations, it is a bit premature, nevertheless I can now tell you that we participated in the invasion of Iwo Jima. It seems the old 760 made the newsreels while we were on the beach and since they are now showing back there, the lid is more or less off for us. Of course, there is still relatively little that I can tell you concerning the operation for the restrictions are numerous and strict. However, this detail will not hinder me a great deal for the part that I cannot tell is the part I would care to say nothing of until I can tell you in . person. Believe me, it was an unmerciful hell.

As you know, D-day was the 19th of last month—the 18th in the States. We arrived there in the wee hours of that morning and remained there for a week. During that time we were on the beach for three days, two with our original cargo and one more day with another cargo that we unloaded from a transport. Since I rather imagine that you followed the news accounts, you will know of Suribachi, the volcano fortress. We made our first beaching at the base of it, and while there, I believe that I experienced the greatest thrill I've had in many a month.

It was the morning of D plus four, and I was on the conn standing the eight to twelve watch. As you can imagine, I was doing a good bit of scanning of the beach with my glasses. Suddenly, I noticed three Marines at the foot of Suribachi apparently preparing to climb it on a scouting mission. Off and on, I watched them for an hour and a half until they had crawled and inched their way to the summit. At last on top, they barely poked their heads above the ridge and after some fifteen minutes of taking stock of the vicinity, one of them waved.

It was then I saw a column below also standing by to go up. With the wave, these men began to ascend in a ragged, crawling file and gradually joined the first three.

Then suddenly out of nowhere, a staff was thrust up and flying from the staff was Old Glory, the first American flag to fly on the island!

Almost at once, the beachmaster and all of the ships on the beach made the announcement over their various P.A. systems. For fully a minute, the cheering from the ships and beach completely drowned out the noise of battle. It was significant to everyone for Suribachi had given us a bad time.

LIEUTENANT COLONEL WILLISS. FITCH 'i'], USA AC, writes me onEaster Sunday from Paris. His letter isdoubly interesting for he has served withdistinction in two great wars. Omittingsome personal notes the letter follows:

As you see by the dateline I finally shook myself loose for a spell after three years in Washington. Not that I have been unhappy at Headquarters but I have often requested a foreign duty assignment and finally it came. I haven't been on this side very long compared with those who have been in combat areas through all the invasions. But it has been interesting to retrace those steps from Africa to Italy to France and now to Germany. I have spent time in the jungles of South America, the Sahara Desert, stopped at the site of the first conference at Casablanca and for about the same length of time that it took. I have flown over the Alps and the Rhine.

I have flown in a medium bomber in weather that was too thick to see the other planes in formation and watched bombing through overcast and homing by instruments. I've flown in high altitude missions with heavy bombers with seemingly more equipment and armor than when knighthood was in flower.

To cap if all I have just returned from living on the banks of the Rhine for three days with an advanced fighter group which included flying up and down both banks of the Rhine in a P-47 for a hundred miles. On this flight we drew enemy fire from the great industrial center of the Rhine, Dusseldorf, and had a brush with two ME-109's on the way back, surpris ingly enough on our side of the Rhine. Probably by the time this reaches you that territory will be all in Allied hands. But at this writing I can attest to the fact there still is a Luftwaffe.

I gained two impressions in Germany that were outstanding. First you may rest assured that no matter if surrender comes tomorrow or several months from tomorrow Germany has had a terrific shellacking. I flew over Cologne at low altitude and I visited it by automobile; I never could imagine such complete devastation in so large a city. As the third city of Germany, and with Berlin and Bremen in similar shape, it should keep the Germans busy for the rest of "our time" in digging themselves out. After that it will be up to educators to instil in the new generation the doctrine of eternal vigilance to see that the new German generation acquires a dislike for war. It won't be easy and don't let anyone fool you about the German people. They hate us cordially, young and old. They show it in every glance, attitude and when they dare, by action. Also I saw no signs of hardship or want. They were all fat and well fed.

Paris is disappointing to those of us who are seeing it for the first time since the last war. The Folies Bergere are still as naked as ever, if not more so, despite the lack of heat but many of the old land marks are either gone or diverted to other use. Henry's New York bar is closed. The Crillon has been taken over by the Red Cross and the University Union has disappeared completely. Paris is entirely dark at tenthirty and no place to go—that is if you want to keep your amateur standing.

The Red Cross is everywhere and doing a magnificent job.

The thing that impresses me most in this war compared to the last is the overwhelming numbers of Americans wherever you go. In the last war we were just one of the Allies. In this war it is predominantly an American show—in Africa, in Italy, France, Germany and even in England. It is amazing.

LIEUTENANT MERRILL McLANE'42, USMCR, writes from somewhere inthe Central Pacific. Mac will long beremembered for his climb of "Devil'sTower" along with Chap Cranmer '4l and,Jack Durrance '39.

You have probably been reading of the Iwo battle, which has been plenty tough. To date over 2,000 Marines have been killed there. (This was written on March 9, 1945 and the official figures have since come out and there were more than twice the number McLane mentions killed.) A helluva lot of good men to lose, difficult to replace them.

I was on Guam last July and August with the 4th Marines. I had, and still have, a rifle platoon. A wonderful bunch of men; I shouldn't really say "men," because most of them are just kids in their late 'teens. My platoon sergeant is only 21. But what fighters they are! Courage, initiative, and drive! They are loyal to their officers and to each other—the esprit de corps to use an overworked phrase. They talk tough and fight the same way They don't claim to be supermen; in fact any of them will joke about certain times when he was scared as hell. Fighting the Japs has forced them to adopt a frank attitude toward the enemy. It's not like fighting in Europe where a whole battalion will sometimes render when it is flanked (both German and Allies). Here it is literally "kill or be killed." During the operation on Guam my battalion took only one prisoner and they thought he was a native.

However, these men will, I believe, fall into civilian life without too much trouble. Most of them—the ones that have gone back—get married shortly, and of course you know what a stabilizing influence that is.

Captain Hugh Corrigan '42, lives fairly close to me. A few nights ago we had a small Dartmouth reunion—Hugh, Captain Chappell Cranmer '41 (K-2 and Devil's Tower), Captain John W. McCuiston '41, a fellow named William M. David Jr. '41, and Frederick R. Kennedy '44.

Naturally I certainly would like to have spent this past winter in Hanover—just to have skied through the golf course would have been lots of fun. Sure do miss that dry New Hampshire air and the powder snow (t8 months now in perpetual summer).

Would like to sit in on one of your comp lit courses. I have a copy of The CompleatAngler, and Thoreau's Walden that I carry around with me. (Comp Lit 24. Adv. HFW.)

P.S. It's not all fighting out here—usually several long months between operations. I swim a lot, drink at our bar, and go to the movies. No women!

Now and then I visit a native village, talk and take pictures. (See cut.)

The following letter from the Philippineswas written by SERGEANT GEORGE T.SHIMIZU \f3, on March 20, 1945.

Much water has passed beneath the proverbial bridge since my wife and I last saw you during June '43 there in Hanover. Since that time I've thought of our college town many times and have more than once wished I were struggling through my undergraduate days again.

Now, I find myself here in the Philippines, sweating and toiling so that we can all go home some day soon. It isn't that I've lost contact with mv Dartmouth friends but it seems that we have only time to think of the present—when we can lean back and relax I cherish those college days more than ever.

We flew up here quite some time ago on C-545, and there is truly a sweet ship. I am now a firm believer in post-war avia- tion but during an air raid you often wish that the Wright Brothers had died an early death. Things have been quiet but we did have a raid about three weeks ago. Nothing serious.

My duties are interesting but like everything else in the Army it does get routine and boring at times. We live only go ft. from the PW stockade and many a time have I gone in and enjoyed a bull session with them—shades of Dartmouth! The Japanese soldiers are all alike; once their fear of being killed or tortured by their Yank captors is vanquished, they are passive and greatly appreciative of their kind treatment. One thing stands out—they are completely awe-stricken by our mechanical equipment and our terrific fire power.

Not to sound chauvinistic, but it does make you feel proud to be an American when you go visit the hospital PW wards. The stench of rotten flesh and fresh wounds is enough to make one vomit. And questioning a half-dead soldier, whether he be German, American or Japanes'e, is difficult for any interrogator. As you walk through their midst, you can feel the deep gratitude they have for their Yank doctors. Among doctors any wounded soldier is a soldier who needs care and attention. And the Japanese injured are no exception.

I shall never forget one incident I witnessed on a coral island in the Netherlands East Indies. Our troops brought in an emaciated, disease-ridden enemy infantryman who hadn't eaten for 15 days and who was more dead than alive. The Major didn't think he would live through the night. Then we gave him an O-type blood transfusion, fresh blood which an American soldier had voluntarily donated just a few minutes before. If you could have seen the look of gratitude on his face and on his compatriots' and had seen life gradually return to him, you would have realized that those men knew then they had been fighting against an "unknown," propaganda-distorted enemy. When I saw and talked with him the following day, he was well on his way to recovery.

After seven solid days of rain, last Sunday dawned bright and clear. Church service was very nice but at regular intervals the chaplain's voice would be drowned out by the thunderous roar of bombers and fighter planes winging their way towards Japanese objectives. You find a consoling peace with the world during that hour's break from the day's routine.

As this is the first letter received tellingof the work of the chaplains I thought itworthy of permanent record. It was writtenby SERGEANT LAURENCE G. HOL-FELDER '42 who is serving with a Chap-lains' Section in the European Theater.

I received your nice letter some time ago, and I must say I'm sorry I'm so slow in replying. But you were in this thing during the last war, and you know how mobile present warfare is; so, I trust you will forgive me. I received your letter in England, and a couple of days later left for France.

The work of the Chaplains' Corps is very interesting, and above all constructive. I'll see if I can tell you a little of it.

In our particular Division there are a Division Chaplain, (Lt. Col. Silas E. Decker of French Lick, Ind.), and an Assistant Division Chaplain, Major Edward W. Eaves of Richmond, Va.; in addition there are nine unit chaplains scattered throughout the Division. As you may know, in Washington the Chief of Chaplains is Major General Arnold; at least, the new -et-up calls for him to be a Major General. There is also to be a Brigadier General who acts as Deputy Chief of Chaplains.

Despite the good natured G. I. kidding regarding the chaplains and their work, the Chaplains' Corps has tremendous responsibilities and performs many functions. In combat the work is two-fold in nature. There is the administrative phase, and the "contact" phase. (These designations are not official; they are my own names). Under the heading of Administration, one or more chaplains handle all the paper work for themselves and the rest of the chaplains. However, the administrative personnel are not limited to paper work alone. They must care for the spiritual welfare and well-being of those about them, and above all, visit and bolster up the guys who are convalescing from tours of combat. By "contact" I mean the chaplains who are at the front lines offering their guidance and aid to the fellows laboring under the stress and tension of war. Both of these "phases" are closely related and indispensable to one another.

Believe me, the chaplains (regardless of sect) who do their work well are of tremendous value to the war effort. A really good chaplain (there are some who are better than others) can equip a soldier with a feeling of comfort and fortitude. Fortitude in that the individual's role in this rotten business is to construct a better world; and comfort in that there is a Power greater than any country or state who is interested in him.

They're a pretty regular bunch of guys too. They know how the G. I.'s have grumbled and cursed their way across Africa, Sicily, Italy and France; up through the Philippines too. The chaplains know that G. I. Joe will keep right on swearing and grumbling through Berlin, Tokyo, and home again. So, they prove they're regular guys by kidding the men, and sometimes having a couple of drinks with them though the latter depends on the individual chaplain.

The duties are numerous and never-ending;—visits to wounded, advice, welfare problems, marriages, baptisms, funerals, conferences, meetings, services, contacts, etc. Such activities keep the chaplains moving all the time. They get weary, yes, but unlike the average guy, they have to keep smiling for the sake of those around them. The work gets tedious and the going gets tough, but somehow or other the chaplains take it in stride. Maybe it's because they're in there pitching for G. I. Joe and carrying on the work of the lonely Car- penter who conquered the world.

I think the big thing that will result from the activities of the Chaplains' Corps is that the chaplains of all faiths will make binding friendships, and consequently have an appreciation of the other man's creed that they didn't have before.

Well, I hope this thing is over soon. Despite the present state of world politics I have hopes for this post-war world. It's possible that after all is said and done the boys will try Christ's way—"Do Unto Others, etc." It might work you know.

SAW FLAG RAISED ON IWO J IMA. Ens. David K. Patterson '44 USCGR, as assistant navigation officer on an LST, saw the entire historic episode of the hoisting of the American colors on Suribachi.

VISITING A NATIVE VILLAGE in the Central Pacific Theatre, Lf. Merrill McLane '42, USMCR, has his picture taken with one of his native hosts.