The aftermath
On the mornings following the battles (Sept.~Oct. '42), casualties would be brought in for treatment or burial. Men who were not injured, but spent many hours in the oily water, were cleaned and sent around to the various companies to be fed and clothed. Often they were without any clothing, their bodies covered with thick black oil that blistered their skin and half blinded them.
They were bruised, battered and burned — weak from exhaustion and some in a shocked condition, seemingly not seeing or hearing those about them. We admired their courage and fortitude, but did not envy their role in this war. It was in those days that the Navy and Marines began to appreciate one another — they wouldn't trade places with us and we wouldn't trade places with them as neither had a taste for the other's task.
After every engagement came the unpleasant task of burying the dead. After one of our ships limped into the harbor in a damaged condition, the bodies were brought ashore in Higgins boats and carted unceremoniously to the shallow graves dug in the coral sand of the island's burial plot. The bodies of fellow Marines were a gruesome sight as many were burned and mangled beyond recognition. Before burial one could see them lying in the trucks in twisted, contorted heaps, many without arms or legs, disemboweled and ghastly. From the lesser-burned bodies you could tell that they were very young men — but "men" in every sense of the word.
They were buried in mass graves with simple ceremony, yet befitting these men whose bravery and courage were beyond the vanity of human praise.
Marines on Tulagi were a concentration of reserve and secondary forces, and Weapons Company was not a first-wave infantry force. They were a special weapons, combat-reserve outfit that entered the fight on the need of a field commander to augment his battle plans. That is about how you would describe them. As their presence on Guadalcanal was not an immediate need, the company was dug in around the island's perimeter. Their 37-mm cannon formed a defensive field-of-fire on the beaches. They stood gun watches and did what they were told, which was not much.
Their entertainment was cards, talk, and watching sea battles that were fought almost nightly. At the time there was no beer and only a small amount of "raisin jack" that some enterprising Marine had cooked up. This was indeed a dry place! Mostly, it was boring and lonely. Mail was spasmodic and undependable. They wrote a lot of letters that were converted to "V-mail" after being censored. They marveled at V-mail but were not too pleased with it. They understood the necessity of wartime censorship but felt isolated because of it as there was someone between the sender and the receiver that took the shine off one's letters.
The company HQ was bivouacked around St.George's Field. As the troops were not of the cricketing type, the field was turned into an open-air movie theater. Logs were laid on the ground as theater seats and ponchos used when the night was rainy. Being so close to the action was no great treat as each film ran for a week. Being stuck atop a hill, the Kid could quote every line of the films' dialog word for word. One film starring Robert Young was about the Lipizzaner horses, which were in the path of the Nazi's assault and had to be spirited away to a safe place. The Kid knew the film's dialogue and its music.
The Kid, being non-assigned and subject to the needs of the company, was often drafted for mess duty. That was not too bad of a place to be as he got first choice on chow and the work was not that hard. Those on mess duty were a fun bunch of guys and got along well. When they were moved up to the beach area, the Kid became Officers Mess Attendant; all the job entailed was setting tables for the officers and cleaning up afterwards.
One day while serving the officers, the Kid passed out on the table and had to be hauled to the hospital — malaria. The hospital was on the eastern end of the island near to his old foxhole, only somewhat up the beach. There he lay abed for about a week taking quinine, Atabrine and whatever else they had for the sickness. He also had a case of dengue fever. Though he could hardly walk, he had to make many trips to the head.
Battle weary — Eniwetok Atoll, 1944
Marines, begrimed and weary from two days and two nights of fighting, are typical of the conquerors of Eniwetok Atoll. Pfc. Faris M. (Bob) Tuohy, 19, is the Marine holding the coffee cup (left).
While off to war, can anything
compare to mail from home — even that snipped by V-mail censors?
