_Burdened with heavy packs and equipment, Marine communicators dash for
cover while advancing under heavy fire during the drive inland from the
beaches._]
Holland Smith was an undeniable asset to the Iwo Jima campaign. During
the top-level planning stage he was often, as always, a “voice in the
wilderness,” predicting severe casualties unless greater and more
effective preliminary naval bombardment was provided. He diverted the
press and the visiting dignitaries from Schmidt, always providing
realistic counterpoints to some of the rosier staff estimates. “It’s a
tough proposition,” Smith would say about Iwo, “That’s why we are here.”
General Schmidt, whose few public pronouncements left him saddled with
the unfortunate prediction of a 10-day conquest of Iwo Jima, came to
resent the perceived role Holland Smith played in post-war accounts. As
he would forcibly state:
I was the commander of all troops on Iwo Jima at all times. Holland
Smith never had a command post ashore, never issued a single order
ashore, never spent a single night ashore.... Isn’t it important
from an historical standpoint that I commanded the greatest number
of Marines ever to be engaged in a single action in the entire
history of the Marine Corps?
General Smith would not disagree with those points. Smith provided a
useful role, but Schmidt and his exceptional staff deserve maximum
credit for planning and executing the difficult and bloody battle of
Iwo Jima.
The V Amphibious Corps achievement was made even more memorable by
the enormously difficult opposition provided by the island and the
enemy. In Lieutenant General Tadamichi Kuribayashi [see sidebar], the
Americans faced one of the most formidable opponents of the war. A
fifth-generation _samurai_, hand-picked and personally extolled by the
Emperor, Kuribayashi combined combat experience with an innovative
mind and an iron will. Although this would be his only combat against
American forces, he had learned much about his prospective opponents
from earlier service in the United States. More significantly,
he could appraise with an unblinking eye the results of previous
Japanese attempts to repel American invasions of Japanese-held
garrisons. Heroic rhetoric aside, Kuribayashi saw little to commend
the “defend-at-the-water’s-edge” tactics and “all-or-nothing” _Banzai_
attacks which had characterized Japan’s failures from Tarawa to Tinian.
Kuribayashi, a realist, also knew not to expect much help from Japan’s
depleted fleet and air forces. His best chances, he concluded, would
be to maximize Iwo’s forbidding terrain with a defense in depth, along
the pattern of the recent Biak and Peleliu defensive efforts. He would
eschew coast defense, anti-landing, and _Banzai_ tactics and instead
conduct a prolonged battle of attrition, a war of nerves, patience, and
time. Possibly the Americans would lose heart and abandon the campaign.
Such a seemingly passive policy, even that late in the war, seemed
revolutionary to senior Japanese Army and Navy leaders. It ran counter
to the deeply ingrained warrior code, which viewed the defensive as
only an unpleasant interim pending resumption of the glorious offensive
in which one could destroy the enemy with sword and bayonet. Even
Imperial General Headquarters grew nervous. There is some evidence
of a top-level request for guidance in defending against American
“storm landings” from Nazi Germany, whose sad experience in trying
to defend Normandy at the water’s edge had proven disastrous. The
Japanese remained unconvinced. Kuribayashi needed every bit of his top
connections with the Emperor to keep from being summarily relieved
for his radical proposals. His was not a complete organizational
victory--the Navy insisted on building gun casemates and blockhouses
along the obvious landing beaches on Iwo--but in general he prevailed.
Kuribayashi demanded the assistance of the finest mining engineers
and fortifications specialists in the Empire. Here again, the island
favored the defender. Iwo’s volcanic sand mixed readily with cement to
produce superior concrete for installations; the soft rock lent itself
to rapid digging. Half the garrison lay aside their weapons to labor
with pick and spade. When American heavy bombers from the Seventh Air
Force commenced a daily pounding of the island in early December 1944,
Kuribayashi simply moved everything--weapons, command posts, barracks,
aid stations--underground. These engineering achievements were
remarkable. Masked gun positions provided interlocking fields of fire,
miles of tunnels linked key defensive positions, every cave featured
multiple outlets and ventilation tubes. One installation inside Mount
Suribachi ran seven stories deep. The Americans would rarely see a live
Japanese on Iwo Jima until the bitter end.
American intelligence experts, aided by documents captured in
Saipan and by an almost daily flow of aerial photography (and
periscope-level pictures from the submarine _Spearfish_), puzzled
over the “disappearing act” of the Japanese garrison. Trained photo
interpreters, using stereoscopic lenses, listed nearly 700 potential
targets, but all were hardened, covered, masked. The intelligence
staffs knew there was no fresh water available on the island. They
could see the rainwater cisterns and they knew what the average monthly
rainfall would deliver. They concluded the garrison could not possibly
survive under those conditions in numbers greater than 12,000 or
13,000. But Kuribayashi’s force was twice that size. The men existed on
half-rations of water for months before the battle began.
Unlike earlier amphibious assaults at Guadalcanal and Tarawa, the
Americans would not enjoy either strategic or tactical surprise at
Iwo Jima. Japanese strategists concluded Iwo Jima would be invaded
soon after the loss of the Marianas. Six months before the battle,
Kuribayashi wrote his wife, “The Americans will surely invade this
Iwo Jima ... do not look for my return.” He worked his men ruthlessly
to complete all defensive and training preparations by 11 February
1945--and met the objective. His was a mixed force of veterans and
recruits, soldiers and sailors. His artillerymen and mortar crews were
among the best in the Empire. Regardless, he trained and disciplined
them all. As the Americans soon discovered, each fighting position
contained the commander’s “Courageous Battle Vows” prominently posted
above the firing apertures. Troops were admonished to maintain their
positions and exact 10 American lives for every Japanese death.
General Schmidt issued VAC Operation Plan 5-44 on 23 December 1944. The
plan offered nothing fancy. Mount Suribachi dominated both potential
beaches, but the 3,000 yards of black sand along the southeastern
coast appeared more sheltered from the prevailing winds. Here the V
Amphibious Corps would land on D-day, the 4th Marine Division on the
right, the 5th on the left, the 3d in reserve. The initial objectives
included the lower airfield, the west coast, and Suribachi. Then the
force would swing into line and attack north, shoulder to shoulder.
Anticipation of a major Japanese counterattack the first night
influenced the landing plan. “We welcome a counterattack,” said Holland
Smith, “That’s generally when we break their backs.” Both Schmidt and
4th Marine Division commander Major General Clifton B. Cates knew from
recent experience at Tinian how capable the Japanese were at assembling
large reserves at potential soft points along a fresh beachhead. The
assault divisions would plan to land their artillery regiments before
dark on D-day in that contingency.
[Illustration: