D-day on Saipan was June 15, 1944. As evening fell on that day, survivors of C/1/23 were dug in two men per foxhole on the open and level terrain that lay between the town of Charan-Kanoa and Lake Susupe in a 360° all around security. My foxhole partner was my assistant BAR man, Daniel Pedroza. The 1st squad of the 1st Platoon was all present and accounted. However I hadn't seen our platoon leader, 1st Lt. Garfield Randall, call sign "Cornhusker", since we boarded amphtrac LVT 1-7. Platoon Sergeant Cleveland W. Leonard was nowhere to be seen, either. Communication, if there had been any, hadn't been shared with the grunts. I had no idea what became of them and never saw either of them again, but did learn they survived to fight and lead in the invasion of Iwo Jima; the battle I failed to take part in.

Earlier in the day, about 16 hours earlier, still aboard our troop carrier, the "USS Callaway" also designated APA 35, we had been summoned from our racks, with the announcement that we had arrived at our destination. It was now the time to disembark from our troop ship and put to use the combat skills we had learned through training and experienced on maneuvers and our previous conquest in the Marshall islands.

A few days before, while still on the high seas, as part of US Naval Task Force 58, the largest invasion force yet to be assembled up to that time. From the deck of our ship and looking in all directions as far as you could see there were ships. We were told there were some 800 in all, from battle ships and air craft carriers to destroyers, subs, troop ships; carrying 3 divisions of Marines, one division of the US Army and all the supporting units comprising the best fighting forces in the United States Pacific arsenal. All were steaming toward our next invasion. Only then were we informed of our destination; this time it was to be the Japanese held island of Saipan, in the Marianas Islands; less than 1500 miles from Japan and over twice as far west of the Hawaiian Islands.

Shipboard briefings included the newest available relief maps to acquaint us with the area we would find ourselves in as we assaulted the heavily defended island, pointing out our initial objectives and significant other landmarks. The maps we had been given were not ours to take ashore but to be studied to form a mental picture of our sector and adjacent units so that if we became separated from our company and battalion, we'd know where to meet up with them. The maps also showed elevations of highest mountain, the many hills, ridges, crags and valleys we would encounter when we were on the island.

We were briefed of the line of command and the call signs of our officers and non-coms. Our Company Commander, Captain Fred Eberhardt's call sign was "Charlie"; and as stated above our platoon leader's was "Cornhusker"; Platoon Sergeant Cleveland Leonard's was "Leonard"; Squad Leader, Sergeant David Utley's was "Utley"; Fire Group Leader, Corporal Merrill Quick's was "Quick". When any of the members of this line of command became casualties, the next senior in line was to take over the duties of the member who became a casualty.

In predawn darkness of 15 June 1944, 2 Marine Divisions, the 2nd and the 4th, were battle ready to spearhead the invasion. The 27th Army Division would also land and participate in the conquest. As a back up, in case needed was the 3rd Marine Division in floating reserve. Everything was in order for the infantries to become active combatants, again. Marine and Army troops had to transfer from troop ships by LCVPs to other ships, which ferried the Amphibian Tractors (amphtracs), in which the island would be assaulted.

While still on board the troop ship, we were ordered to suit up, check our gear, rations, ammo, and grenades. We were instructed not to take ashore any maps that had been used during our preparatory training for the invasion- in case they might fall into the hands of the enemy. With narrow aisles between bunks in the hold of the ship we had to take turns standing and getting everything adjusted, then lay down on our bunks as best we could to be out of the way for the rest to get prepared for our departure. I don't remember if it was here at Saipan or one of the other landings that in the process of getting ready to depart, that someone, unknown to me accidentally discharged a bullet from his rifle that ricocheted off the bulkheads and steel beams without hitting anyone. When the time came to debark we filed up the ladder from the hold that had been our home while at sea and proceeded to our assigned boat stations. Each went over the side of the ship and down the landing nets to our awaiting landing craft that transported us to the LSD. My boat was designated LCVP 1-3 and we had to locate LSD 2. On arrival at LSD 2 we again used landing nets to climb aboard. Before entering our assigned landing craft we were treated to a pre-invasion breakfast, one of the best meals we had while at sea. As I recall it was a considerably better meal than we had had on the Callaway

Shortly after breakfast we were directed to the Tractor Deck where our assigned amphtracs awaited and were being readied for our ride ashore. This huge garage held many amphtracs, how many I can't venture a guess, maybe forty or more of them parked side by side and chained down, all facing the off loading ramp. Drivers and members of the ship's crew were busy freeing the amphtracs from their moorings, making ready for our departure. To get to our assigned amphtracs, we had to walk across the hoods of other amphibian tractors to get to LVT 1-7, our assigned craft, and then we climbed down into it. The engines were being started and the diesel fumes that filled the tractor deck were the worst I had ever been in contact with. While huge exhaust fans attempted to move the fumes out of the garage compartment, they were not adequate for the job by a long shot. It's a miracle we survived from carbon monoxide poisoning before we were free of the LSD and in open water away from the ship.

Our amphtrac's navigator, whom I shall call "Jake", to personalize this very important factor in our successful landing, never did learn his real name or else have forgotten. His job was to locate the assembly area that our craft had to line up with, in accordance with prearranged landing waves. Once we had arrived in our assembly area, we began circling until all the craft destined for the group, were accounted for. It was now daylight. My guess is the assembly areas, where we were circling was from one to three miles from the island. The circling craft, was a sight to behold, as we waited for the signal to break and form our wave and head for our assigned point of land. Initially C/1/23 had been assigned to be in the 1st wave, but as it turned out, the 2nd and 3rd Battalion units made up the first waves to land, then came our turn to make the rush for the beach.

About this time the outline of Mount Tapotchau became visible as well as the landscape with smoke rising all along the coast from predawn naval shelling followed by bombing by our aircraft and then additional naval shelling that preceded the landings of the first waves of landing craft. Bombs could be seen erupting and fires blazing all along the shoreline and in the hills and on Mount Tapotchau. As we left the assembly area and formed up in our wave, it appeared there would be no enemy to meet us. Of course we were wrong. While the bombing and shelling had surely created much destruction, there were still significant armaments and the enemy, who had been in sheltered caves during the shelling and bombings were waiting to greet us. When the first and following waves of amphtracs were within range of the enemy artillery they came under heavy shelling by shore batteries and from big guns on Mount Tapotchau. There were near misses and direct hits on several of the craft in the early waves causing the amphtracs in those waves to take evasive action but some suffered damage and became dead in the water others lost their ability to control their forward direction. Many Marines never made it to shore some were picked up by other craft. A tracked vehicle with damage to one track became helpless.

As we neared the range of the enemy artillery, we were ordered to keep our heads down to lessen the chance of being hit by shrapnel. However we heard the screaming shells, the horrendous explosions, saw the geysers of water and aerial bursts, the spray of flame smoke and shrapnel. Then it was our turn to be in the cross hairs of the enemy's gun sights, as their gun crews provided the many shells intended for our destruction. Soon shells and shrapnel rained down around us, Jake began tacking, changing directions in evasive action to deny the artillery a direct fix on our path. We were unaware of the buoyed markers the enemy had placed in the coastal waters as aiming markers for which they had precise range measurements to direct their artillery at our invading forces. Jake and the other amphtrac's navigators obviously knew what the buoys were for. This information was later documented in writings by seaman and drivers of amphtracs. The Japanese intended stop us from reaching the beaches and it was quite effective but we persisted and many of our amphtracs did reach the shore.

Our waves of amphtracs, as they were lined up in formation presented the enemy gunners easy targets and we were soon bracketed by enemy artillery. However by breaking ranks as Jake and other navigators did we were able to outmaneuver many of the incoming artillery shells by zigzagging and thus avoid being hit. The original wave alignment became very irregular and craft that were supposed to be next to each other were scattered. Even though Jake was savagely harassed by enemy shells, he was never distracted enough to miss our assigned point of land, Blue 1 Beach on our mission maps. We fortunately avoided any underwater obstacles and coral reefs and quickly clambered ashore, still with our heads down. With many a near miss we had reached the shore unscathed - but it appeared we were alone as far as we could tell.

At the high-tide edge of the shore was a high brush line, which hid whatever lay beyond the hedge. Had the brush line camouflaged a tank barrier; we might have stopped at the beach as some amphtracs apparently did but we had no trouble getting off the beach. Surprisingly nothing formidable had been erected to stop us at the water line or on the beach. As we cleared the brush we found ourselves on the end of the town's street which ran inland from the beach with houses and shops on both sides of the street. The street was full of Japanese soldiers and civilians and all armed with rifles and grenades. They appeared to be without leadership, just an unorganized enemy mob. They had taken no defensive position but were in the street firing wildly and attempting to stop us with grenades and small arms weapons. At this sight of people armed and firing at us, I was immediately called to get up and bring my BAR into action to help the amphtracs Gunner clear our way through this mob and prevent if possible any grenades from landing in the amphtracs. So my first call to action was answered with several bursts into the crowded masses on the street of Charan-Kanoa. For years I had thought it was Robert Hauser, a good friend of mine who called me into action. I've heard in recent years that it more likely had been Utley, who was my squad leader, who had called for my BAR to help clear the street. Either way, I did it.

Clamoring down the street, we were the lone amphtrac on this street at the time and buildings and trees were blowing apart from the Japanese shells that continued to bracket our amphtrac. Jake continued his evasive tactics by swerving from one side of the street toward the other at irregular times to keep the enemy trackers from making a hard fix on our amphtrac. As we came to the outskirts of the town we had several choices, follow the open road toward the O1 line or head for the trees where we might escape the eyes of the artillery. The trees seemed to make the most sense so Jake veered left entering the treed area toward Lake Susupe. Amid those trees, we came under a new menace, sniper fire from Japanese troops perched high in the trees, at least some of them were tied to the branches and when they were shot or killed by artillery fire, fell only the length of their rope. We escaped casualties from the sniper fire, which alerted us to this new danger, and it provided us targets to shoot at. All the while shells continued to decimate the trees in front, beside and behind us including those that snipers were using to ambush us and eliminating the cover the trees provided us. As we neared the lake and the lack of cover it would provide, it became obvious that the lake was not the sanctuary it seemed earlier to be; so Jake stopped LVT 1-7 while yet in the trees and we all scampered out. An all around defensive posture was taken and we began digging in to provide some protection for our bodies from artillery shrapnel, as the shells continued to defoliate the trees. It was only a matter of time that the artillery would make a direct hit on our amphtrac so a decision was made to abandon her and attempt to locate friendly troops by moving back toward the beach. For all I know, we may have been ordered by radio to rejoin the rest of our company and consolidate our position near Charan Kanoa.

Our orderly withdrawal among the trees was cautious and for the most part we were moving away from the artillery fire that was concentrating on knocking out our amphtrac. Enroute, a few enemy troops were encountered in the trees, were spotted and done away with as we continued to withdraw from the swamp. About the same time that we made contact with elements of our battalion, a column of 2nd Marine Division troops came from within our landing zone, heading northerly to join up with the 2nd Division units. Our columns passed through each other.

In 1978, I met a former Marine in Triangle, Virginia. Richard T. Spooner, Major, USMC (Ret.) a veteran of the Tarawa and Saipan invasions had been an enlisted member of the 2nd Marine Division and when I told him of this incident; he said he was one of those Marines who passed through our column on June 15, 1944. Because of the artillery harassment, his Amphtracs had brought his unit ashore at one of the 4th Division landing beaches, far to the south of their assigned landing area. Rick Spooner, and I became and continue to be very good friends and have exchanged many sea stories, often over and over, since then. Rick, an enlisted Marine during WWII accepted his honorable discharge upon returning to the States after the war but soon realized he was meant to be a career Marine. He reenlisted, was accepted for Office Training School, and among his many assignments served as Officer in Charge of Sea Going Marine Detachments and as Provost during his 37 years career. He is the proprietor of "The Globe and Laurel", a Restaurant Extraordinaire with a Touch of (Marine Corps) Tradition. Every Marine should stop at The Globe and Laurel to meet Rick and enjoy the service and tradition served by Rick and his staff.

After joining up with the remaining elements of C/1/23, we consolidated our position and took on a defensive posture, forming a 360° all around security while other elements and supplies were brought ashore during the balance of the day and throughout the night.

Our foxholes could not be camouflaged. They were dug hastily, during intensive artillery barrages that harassed us all day and would continue throughout the night. White phosphorescent sand and equipment that we couldn't get into our foxhole ringed each hole. The thin layer of topsoil, which had covered the sand, was too little to hide the sand we dug out. That white sand identified each foxhole and the network of foxholes formed a large target, a ring of bull's eyes for enemy guns during both daylight and dark.

Charan-Kanoa was directly West of us, separating us from the beach. We were not involved in clearing the Japanese troops from Charan-Kanoa and we had not learned whether the town was still held by the enemy or by friendly Marines. So we considered an attack from Charan-Kanoa was a possibility as well as from inland. And we had no idea of the strength of the troops still in Charan Kanoa or if they had been reinforced from the South since we had sped through it earlier.

The 2nd Marine Division and the 4th were to join forces along a line running from the sugar mill to Lake Susupe. Our regiment, the left flank of the 4th was to adjoin elements of the 2nd but there was a gap between the two divisions leaving a corridor through which the enemy had access to the beach - if they found it.

North of Charan-Kanoa and NW of our position lay the sugar mill and rail yards, the buildings were pockmarked from earlier bombs and shells from Navy ships and both Navy and Air Corps planes. The tall metal smokestack that rose high above the sugar mill could be seen from anyplace along the landing zones. It was heavily damaged but was still standing, appearing like a nude skeleton. One thing for sure, if the enemy had spotters or snipers in that chimney; they had ringside seats to the activity on the landing beaches. And they could have been directing the artillery fire, targeting men and supplies that was unloaded all along the landing beaches. As far as I could tell the enemy had not been driven from the sugar mill or along the gap toward Susupe. It was certainly a possibility that enemy artillery spotters with radios and /or snipers were hidden within the smokestack. Even though we were not sure, the smokestack was watched and occasionally sprayed with an array of weapons with the hope that some of the rounds might find an unseen enemy and a falling body would be a happy sight. Needless to say, we saw no body fall from the smokestack.

NE of our position there were Japanese infantry and snipers scattered throughout the swamp area, near Lake Susupe and in the trees that remained. Directly east, was our main objective for D-day, the O1 line ridge. It was also one of the enemy's main defensive positions. Enemy troops were well hidden from our view but we knew they were there and could hear they had tanks. Their tanks could be heard starting their engines and moving beyond the ridge but we did not hear any comforting sounds of our own tanks. We were literally surrounded or thought we were. Our situation was anything but a secured one. Had the enemy chosen to launch a tank led infantry counter attack against our position, - at the time - we would have had a major fight on our hands.

Japanese artillery continued firing relentlessly, throughout the day usually in volleys of three, which we took as meaning Japanese artillery teams consisted of three guns to each gun crew. Artillery fire came from various directions, some from Mount Tapotchau, some from mortars beyond the ridge and others from SE near the airfield to our right front. It appeared their guns were zeroed in on every inch of terrain that we occupied, whether the beach, where supplies and munitions were being unloaded and stored, or at the incoming troop and supply craft before they got to the beach. Other enemy artillery crews were assigned the task of eliminating the Marines that had broken through from the beach and were encircled on the flats east of Charan-Kanoa. Airbursts rained shrapnel down over a wide area and other shells exploded upon impact. The sounds alone of exploding shells were terrifying. Even without killing force the concussion was devastating to our eardrums. And of course direct hits and shrapnel were accounting for many casualties. We believed that if you heard the artillery shell, it most likely had already passed you by and you would not hear the one with your name on it, because the shell arrived before the sound did.

Being on high alert, at least one Marine in each foxhole had to be on duty watch, guarding against enemy infiltrators, taking turns every hour or two so each would get at least a little rest. It had been a long and eventful day and drowsiness came easy when on watch duty. To doze off or fall sound asleep while on watch could mean your death and the death of your partner. It was very dangerous as some Marines found out that first night. Star shells almost constantly illuminated the area with their eerie flickering light throughout the night. The light from those star shells created shadows that appeared to move as the shells descended. It was something like the old silent films making smooth movements seem jerky. But enemy infiltrators, probably Japanese Imperial Marines or suicide volunteers, with blackened nude bodies, armed with stilettos, were still able to creep stealthily toward our lines during short periods of darkness. As one star shell burned out or dropped behind a hill shadowing the night; the enemy was free to move without being seen and before a new star shell again illuminated the area. When the infiltrator found a foxhole with an alert Marine on duty, he (the Japanese) was no more. But where the Marine had dozed off, the casualty could be the Marine. The first fatality in our company this night may have been PFC Malcolm Eisman, whether his death was due to a hand to hand struggle or whether due to artillery I never learned the details.

We learned later that a sizable group of infiltrators did get through to Charan-Kanoa during the darkness but were eliminated before daylight.

This was the night I became aware of land crabs as they crawled into our foxholes and over our legs. We'd heard there were poisonous snakes and lizards on Saipan. And in the eerie light of those star shells, a mother sow and her piglets appeared to be the enemy keeping close to the ground. We held our fire, which would point out to the enemy exactly where we were, so grenades were lobbed and as dawn broke on D+1 there lay a dead mother sow and some of her litter.

By morning of D+1 we were still consolidated in that area between the sugar mill, Susupe, the original O1 line and Charan-Kanoa but had lucked out, no counter attack had occurred in our sector. Other sectors had not the same good fortune.