Hell in the Pacific: A Marine Rifleman's Journey From Guadalcanal to Peleliu by Bill Sloan, Jim McEnery Read Free Book Online
Authors: Bill Sloan, Jim McEnery
situation in Europe kept getting darker and darker.
I N JUNE 1941, the good duty at Norfolk came to an end for Remi and me. I was transferred to the Marine base at Quantico, Virginia, and Remi went somewhere else. Quantico was the home of the legendary Fifth Marines, who’d sailed from there to France in 1917 to become the American unit that was “first to fight” in World War I.
I was assigned to K Company, Third Battalion, Fifth Marines—K/3/5. It would be my home for the next two years and six months. On too many occasions to count, it would also come close to being the death of me.
At Quantico, I was reunited with my Brooklyn buddy Charlie Smith, but Charlie wasn’t in K Company or even in the Third Battalion. He was in the First Battalion, Fifth, along with some other guys from old Platoon 102 at Parris Island. So I didn’t see Charlie all that much, but it was still good to know he was around.
I hadn’t really had any serious field training in boot camp, but now I started making up for it in a hurry. After a short stay at Quantico, we shipped out for amphibious maneuvers and made dozens of practice landings on beaches at New River, North Carolina. That was where Camp Lejeune would be built later to serve as the home of the First Marine Division, but it was nothing but a swampy wilderness then.
Sometimes we were the assault troops, and sometimes we were the defenders. In one landing, we hit the beach and stormed the defenders, and I discovered I was running straight at Charlie Smith, who was laughing like a damned hyena.
After we “killed” each other with our blank ammo, my assault team regrouped and moved inland, where we “attacked and seized” imaginary objectives. We ended the maneuvers with a simulated forced march that was much too real for comfort.
The landing areas at New River covered over 111,700 acres of shoreline, swamps, snakes, chiggers, and mosquitoes, and I think we covered them all. The biggest timber rattlesnake I ever saw was there.
Between landings, they sent me back up to Quantico for a few days to learn to fire the Thompson submachine gun. The first tommy gun I was assigned to was a 1928 Navy model, and it was a piece of junk. I had to aim it at the ground to have any hope of hitting the target.
Later, I was issued an Army model of the same 1928 weapon, and it was terrific. The difference between it and the Navy version was in the bolt, which was heavier in the Army model. It was a million times easier to handle under combat conditions, too. You could drop it in the water or roll it in the sand, then pick it up, and it would fire like nothing had happened.
I made sharpshooter with that Army model, and knowing how to use a tommy gun to maximum advantage would save my life more than once in the months to come.
Another good thing that happened when I went back to Quantico was that I met up again with Remi Balduck, my buddy from Parris Island and Norfolk. He was working on the same firing range where I was firing the tommy guns, and we had a chance to catch up on old times. But our reunion didn’t last long, and then we shook hands and went our separate ways.
The following April, I got word that Remi had been shipped to American Samoa with the Seventh Marines, the first of the division’s infantry regiments to reach full strength. As it turned out, those few days at Quantico would be the last time I ever saw him.
I made private first class before we left New River. I also survived epidemics of scarlet fever and meningitis that broke out among the troops while we were there.
But K/3/5 was headed for places and problems that would make what we went through at New River look like a Sunday School picnic.
Places like Guadalcanal.
I N THAT SUMMER of 1941, the newly created First Marine Division was just taking shape. It really was the first division everorganized in the history of the Marine Corps, and it was only five months old. It was born on February 1, 1941, at Guantánamo
I N JUNE 1941, the good duty at Norfolk came to an end for Remi and me. I was transferred to the Marine base at Quantico, Virginia, and Remi went somewhere else. Quantico was the home of the legendary Fifth Marines, who’d sailed from there to France in 1917 to become the American unit that was “first to fight” in World War I.
I was assigned to K Company, Third Battalion, Fifth Marines—K/3/5. It would be my home for the next two years and six months. On too many occasions to count, it would also come close to being the death of me.
At Quantico, I was reunited with my Brooklyn buddy Charlie Smith, but Charlie wasn’t in K Company or even in the Third Battalion. He was in the First Battalion, Fifth, along with some other guys from old Platoon 102 at Parris Island. So I didn’t see Charlie all that much, but it was still good to know he was around.
I hadn’t really had any serious field training in boot camp, but now I started making up for it in a hurry. After a short stay at Quantico, we shipped out for amphibious maneuvers and made dozens of practice landings on beaches at New River, North Carolina. That was where Camp Lejeune would be built later to serve as the home of the First Marine Division, but it was nothing but a swampy wilderness then.
Sometimes we were the assault troops, and sometimes we were the defenders. In one landing, we hit the beach and stormed the defenders, and I discovered I was running straight at Charlie Smith, who was laughing like a damned hyena.
After we “killed” each other with our blank ammo, my assault team regrouped and moved inland, where we “attacked and seized” imaginary objectives. We ended the maneuvers with a simulated forced march that was much too real for comfort.
The landing areas at New River covered over 111,700 acres of shoreline, swamps, snakes, chiggers, and mosquitoes, and I think we covered them all. The biggest timber rattlesnake I ever saw was there.
Between landings, they sent me back up to Quantico for a few days to learn to fire the Thompson submachine gun. The first tommy gun I was assigned to was a 1928 Navy model, and it was a piece of junk. I had to aim it at the ground to have any hope of hitting the target.
Later, I was issued an Army model of the same 1928 weapon, and it was terrific. The difference between it and the Navy version was in the bolt, which was heavier in the Army model. It was a million times easier to handle under combat conditions, too. You could drop it in the water or roll it in the sand, then pick it up, and it would fire like nothing had happened.
I made sharpshooter with that Army model, and knowing how to use a tommy gun to maximum advantage would save my life more than once in the months to come.
Another good thing that happened when I went back to Quantico was that I met up again with Remi Balduck, my buddy from Parris Island and Norfolk. He was working on the same firing range where I was firing the tommy guns, and we had a chance to catch up on old times. But our reunion didn’t last long, and then we shook hands and went our separate ways.
The following April, I got word that Remi had been shipped to American Samoa with the Seventh Marines, the first of the division’s infantry regiments to reach full strength. As it turned out, those few days at Quantico would be the last time I ever saw him.
I made private first class before we left New River. I also survived epidemics of scarlet fever and meningitis that broke out among the troops while we were there.
But K/3/5 was headed for places and problems that would make what we went through at New River look like a Sunday School picnic.
Places like Guadalcanal.
I N THAT SUMMER of 1941, the newly created First Marine Division was just taking shape. It really was the first division everorganized in the history of the Marine Corps, and it was only five months old. It was born on February 1, 1941, at Guantánamo
Similar Books
Hooked
Matt Richtel
The Silver Glove
Suzy McKee Charnas
Portrait of a Dead Guy
Larissa Reinhart
Destination Unknown
Katherine Applegate
Love's Stormy Gale (Heartsong Presents)
Lynette Sowell
The Spirit Ring
Lois McMaster Bujold
The Complete Stories
Bernard Malamud
Thinking Straight
Robin Reardon