cmyr
10-15-2006, 04:42 AM
Iwo Jima memories
World War II veteran recalls hellish battle 60 years ago where U.S. Marines raised flag
By DAN BENSON
Thiensville - Rollo Eberhardt, now 80, was 19 years old and 18 months removed from the tranquility of Cedarburg when he met hell face to face 60 years ago this weekend.
Feb. 19, 1945, was the day he saw the island of Iwo Jima from the railing of a cargo ship that had brought him and thousands of other U.S. Marines from Hawaii, their mission to take the island from 22,000 fiercely resolute Japanese soldiers.
" 'What a beautiful day to die,' " he remembered a comrade saying as he and his fellow Marines looked on the island, wreathed in smoke and flame, a sharp contrast to the day's clear blue sky.
Iwo Jima is a small volcanic island in the Pacific Ocean, about 600 miles southwest of Japan.
It became strategically valuable to the United States in 1945 as an air base from which its bombers could attack the Japanese mainland.
It was defended by 22,000 Japanese soldiers. Before the invasion, they were subjected to months of bombing by the American Air Force, one of the longest and most intense air bombardments of World War II.
That was followed by three days of continuous shelling by the U.S. Navy.
The bombs and artillery shells had little effect on the island's defenders, though, who surprised the Americans from extensive underground bunkers.
As a result, they gave the U.S. Marines a hellish reception when they landed.
'They let us really have it'
Eberhardt's unit wasn't in the initial wave of invaders, but its landing was delayed because of the ferocity of the defense.
"We couldn't land when we were supposed to because the beach was littered with bodies and equipment," Eberhardt said during an interview in the kitchen of his Thiensville home, his kitchen table covered in World War II news clippings, photos and other memorabilia.
When his unit - the 25th Regiment of the 4th Marine Division - did land three days after the initial landing, 18 of his company's 20 Sherman tanks were destroyed by enemy fire on the first day.
"They let us really have it," he said.
A crewman of one of those destroyed Shermans was Eberhardt's "best buddy," he said.
He was killed when a Japanese mortar shell scored a direct hit on his tank's hatch, its most thinly armored section.
"We had to pull him out of there in pieces. But no one else was hurt," he said.
Eberhardt was trained as a tank crewman but was assigned duty as a scout observer for the company's two remaining tanks, both of which were flamethrowers capable of shooting a stream of flaming gasoline more than 100 yards.
It was a dangerous job, but Eberhardt said he preferred doing that to sitting in a Sherman tank.
"They were death traps," he said of the tanks.
As was the entire island.
One third of all Marine Corps casualties in World War II occurred at Iwo Jima. It was the only Marine battle where the American casualties - about 26,000, including 6,800 killed - exceeded the number of Japanese casualties - about 21,000 dead.
"It was pretty crowded on that island," Eberhardt said.
Stench of bodies, sulfur
Iwo Jima, in Japanese, means "Sulfur Island," for its numerous ground vents that spew fumes from underground sulfur springs.
The sulfurous smell of rotting eggs combined with that of rotting bodies was omnipresent, he said.
"But you got used to it," he said, as he did of so many things that occurred on the island.
Eberhardt's primary job as a scout observer was to spot targets for the tanks. The rocky island was a honeycomb of caves and tunnels. He often would direct the tanks toward the caves where Japanese soldiers were hidden.
"They'd come out of there all on fire," he said. Another thing he had to get used to, he said.
Some of the most frightening experiences occurred at night.
The Japanese would shell Marine positions continuously with 360-millimeter "spigot" mortars that would lob earthshaking 675-pound shells.
And then there were "Moaning Minnies," mortar shells that made a loud whistling sound as they flew toward their target.
And it was at night when Japanese soldiers would emerge from their caves and underground defenses to attack the Marines.
Eberhardt was on the island for 36 days.
He ate all his meals cold out of cans and wore the same clothes throughout the battle.
"One Marine smelled as bad as the other," he said.
The most famous image of the assault on Iwo Jima is the photograph of the raising of the U.S. flag by a group of Marines on the summit of Mount Suribachi, the extinct volcano on the island's southern end.
One of those Marines was John Bradley of Antigo, who died in 1994.
The photograph won the Pulitzer Prize and became the basis for the Marine Corps Memorial in Washington, D.C.
After Iwo Jima, Eberhardt and the rest of the 4th Division were sent back to Hawaii to prepare for the invasion of Japan. That was averted when Japan surrendered after atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945.
A jungle paradise
Eberhardt spent the rest of his duty on the island of Guam, where he was the lone police officer in the jungle village of Talofofo.
His primary duties were to keep an eye out for Japanese stragglers still living in the island jungles and caves and keeping Navy and Army base personnel away from the native girls and vice versa.
He became friends with the villagers and fondly remembered helping them hunt, attending wedding feasts and being involved in other facets of their lives.
It was a jungle paradise compared to the volcanic hell of Iwo Jima.
"I thought about re-enlisting and might have if I knew I could stay there," he said of Guam.
After the war, Eberhardt went to work for American Can Co. on Teutonia Ave. in Milwaukee, retiring in 1986. His wife, Janet, died in 1989. They had no children.
Eberhardt is active with the Howard J. Schroeder American Legion Post 457 in Mequon-Thiensville, as well as with Iwo Jima veterans of the 4th Marine Division veterans group.
Eberhardt and other Iwo Jima veterans from Wisconsin and Illinois marked the 60th anniversary of the battle on Feb. 11. About 30 veterans and their wives attended, down considerably from years ago when 75 or more would attend, he said.
Time is doing to these Marine veterans what Iwo Jima could not.
"Every day, it seems like somebody's dying," Eberhardt said.
From the Feb. 20, 2005 editions of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
World War II veteran recalls hellish battle 60 years ago where U.S. Marines raised flag
By DAN BENSON
Thiensville - Rollo Eberhardt, now 80, was 19 years old and 18 months removed from the tranquility of Cedarburg when he met hell face to face 60 years ago this weekend.
Feb. 19, 1945, was the day he saw the island of Iwo Jima from the railing of a cargo ship that had brought him and thousands of other U.S. Marines from Hawaii, their mission to take the island from 22,000 fiercely resolute Japanese soldiers.
" 'What a beautiful day to die,' " he remembered a comrade saying as he and his fellow Marines looked on the island, wreathed in smoke and flame, a sharp contrast to the day's clear blue sky.
Iwo Jima is a small volcanic island in the Pacific Ocean, about 600 miles southwest of Japan.
It became strategically valuable to the United States in 1945 as an air base from which its bombers could attack the Japanese mainland.
It was defended by 22,000 Japanese soldiers. Before the invasion, they were subjected to months of bombing by the American Air Force, one of the longest and most intense air bombardments of World War II.
That was followed by three days of continuous shelling by the U.S. Navy.
The bombs and artillery shells had little effect on the island's defenders, though, who surprised the Americans from extensive underground bunkers.
As a result, they gave the U.S. Marines a hellish reception when they landed.
'They let us really have it'
Eberhardt's unit wasn't in the initial wave of invaders, but its landing was delayed because of the ferocity of the defense.
"We couldn't land when we were supposed to because the beach was littered with bodies and equipment," Eberhardt said during an interview in the kitchen of his Thiensville home, his kitchen table covered in World War II news clippings, photos and other memorabilia.
When his unit - the 25th Regiment of the 4th Marine Division - did land three days after the initial landing, 18 of his company's 20 Sherman tanks were destroyed by enemy fire on the first day.
"They let us really have it," he said.
A crewman of one of those destroyed Shermans was Eberhardt's "best buddy," he said.
He was killed when a Japanese mortar shell scored a direct hit on his tank's hatch, its most thinly armored section.
"We had to pull him out of there in pieces. But no one else was hurt," he said.
Eberhardt was trained as a tank crewman but was assigned duty as a scout observer for the company's two remaining tanks, both of which were flamethrowers capable of shooting a stream of flaming gasoline more than 100 yards.
It was a dangerous job, but Eberhardt said he preferred doing that to sitting in a Sherman tank.
"They were death traps," he said of the tanks.
As was the entire island.
One third of all Marine Corps casualties in World War II occurred at Iwo Jima. It was the only Marine battle where the American casualties - about 26,000, including 6,800 killed - exceeded the number of Japanese casualties - about 21,000 dead.
"It was pretty crowded on that island," Eberhardt said.
Stench of bodies, sulfur
Iwo Jima, in Japanese, means "Sulfur Island," for its numerous ground vents that spew fumes from underground sulfur springs.
The sulfurous smell of rotting eggs combined with that of rotting bodies was omnipresent, he said.
"But you got used to it," he said, as he did of so many things that occurred on the island.
Eberhardt's primary job as a scout observer was to spot targets for the tanks. The rocky island was a honeycomb of caves and tunnels. He often would direct the tanks toward the caves where Japanese soldiers were hidden.
"They'd come out of there all on fire," he said. Another thing he had to get used to, he said.
Some of the most frightening experiences occurred at night.
The Japanese would shell Marine positions continuously with 360-millimeter "spigot" mortars that would lob earthshaking 675-pound shells.
And then there were "Moaning Minnies," mortar shells that made a loud whistling sound as they flew toward their target.
And it was at night when Japanese soldiers would emerge from their caves and underground defenses to attack the Marines.
Eberhardt was on the island for 36 days.
He ate all his meals cold out of cans and wore the same clothes throughout the battle.
"One Marine smelled as bad as the other," he said.
The most famous image of the assault on Iwo Jima is the photograph of the raising of the U.S. flag by a group of Marines on the summit of Mount Suribachi, the extinct volcano on the island's southern end.
One of those Marines was John Bradley of Antigo, who died in 1994.
The photograph won the Pulitzer Prize and became the basis for the Marine Corps Memorial in Washington, D.C.
After Iwo Jima, Eberhardt and the rest of the 4th Division were sent back to Hawaii to prepare for the invasion of Japan. That was averted when Japan surrendered after atomic bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945.
A jungle paradise
Eberhardt spent the rest of his duty on the island of Guam, where he was the lone police officer in the jungle village of Talofofo.
His primary duties were to keep an eye out for Japanese stragglers still living in the island jungles and caves and keeping Navy and Army base personnel away from the native girls and vice versa.
He became friends with the villagers and fondly remembered helping them hunt, attending wedding feasts and being involved in other facets of their lives.
It was a jungle paradise compared to the volcanic hell of Iwo Jima.
"I thought about re-enlisting and might have if I knew I could stay there," he said of Guam.
After the war, Eberhardt went to work for American Can Co. on Teutonia Ave. in Milwaukee, retiring in 1986. His wife, Janet, died in 1989. They had no children.
Eberhardt is active with the Howard J. Schroeder American Legion Post 457 in Mequon-Thiensville, as well as with Iwo Jima veterans of the 4th Marine Division veterans group.
Eberhardt and other Iwo Jima veterans from Wisconsin and Illinois marked the 60th anniversary of the battle on Feb. 11. About 30 veterans and their wives attended, down considerably from years ago when 75 or more would attend, he said.
Time is doing to these Marine veterans what Iwo Jima could not.
"Every day, it seems like somebody's dying," Eberhardt said.
From the Feb. 20, 2005 editions of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel