_“Down the Net,” a sketch by Kerr Eby._]
On balance, the LVTs performed their assault mission fully within
Julian Smith’s expectations. Only eight of the 87 vehicles in the first
three waves were lost in the assault (although 15 more were so riddled
with holes that they sank upon reaching deep water while seeking to
shuttle more troops ashore). Within a span of 10 minutes, the LVTs
landed more than 1,500 Marines on Betio’s north shore, a great start to
the operation. The critical problem lay in sustaining the momentum of
the assault. Major Holland’s dire predictions about the neap tide had
proven accurate. No landing craft would cross the reef throughout D-Day.
Shoup hoped enough LVTs would survive to permit wholesale transfer-line
operations with the boats along the edge of the reef. It rarely worked.
The LVTs suffered increasing casualties. Many vehicles, afloat for five
hours already, simply ran of gas. Others had to be used immediately for
emergency evacuation of wounded Marines. Communications, never good,
deteriorated as more and more radio sets suffered water damage or enemy
fire. The surviving LVTs continued to serve, but after about 1000 on
D-Day, most troops had no other option but to wade ashore from the
reef, covering distances from 500 to 1,000 yards under well-aimed fire.
Marines of Major Schoettel’s LT 3/2 were particularly hard hit on Red
Beach One. Company K suffered heavy casualties from the re-entrant
strongpoint on the left. Company I made progress over the seawall
along the “bird’s beak,” but paid a high price, including the loss
of the company commander, Captain William E. Tatom, killed before he
could even debark from his LVT. Both units lost half their men in the
first two hours. Major Michael P. “Mike” Ryan’s Company L, forced
to wade ashore when their boats grounded on the reef, sustained 35
percent casualties. Ryan recalled the murderous enfilading fire and the
confusion. Suddenly, “one lone trooper was spotted through the fire and
smoke scrambling over a parapet on the beach to the right,” marking a
new landing point. As Ryan finally reached the beach, he looked back
over his shoulder. “All [I] could see was heads with rifles held over
them,” as his wading men tried to make as small a target as possible.
Ryan began assembling the stragglers of various waves in a relatively
sheltered area along Green Beach.
Major Schoettel remained in his boat with the remnants of his fourth
wave, convinced that his landing team had been shattered beyond
relief. No one had contact with Ryan. The fragmented reports Schoettel
received from the survivors of the two other assault companies were
disheartening. Seventeen of his 37 officers were casualties.
In the center, Landing Team 2/2 was also hard hit coming ashore over
Red Beach Two. The Japanese strongpoint in the re-entrant between the
two beaches played havoc among troops trying to scramble over the sides
of their beached or stalled LVTs. Five of Company E’s six officers
were killed. Company F suffered 50 percent casualties getting ashore
and swarming over the seawall to seize a precarious foothold. Company
G could barely cling to a crowded stretch of beach along the seawall
in the middle. Two infantry platoons and two machine gun platoons were
driven away from the objective beach and forced to land on Red Beach
One, most joining “Ryans Orphans.”
When Lieutenant Colonel Amey’s boat rammed to a sudden halt against
the reef, he hailed two passing LVTs for a transfer. Amey’s LVT then
became hung up on a barbed wire obstacle several hundred yards off Red
Beach Two. The battalion commander drew his pistol and exhorted his
men to follow him into the water. Closer to the beach, Amey turned to
encourage his staff, “Come on! Those bastards can’t beat us!” A burst
of machine gun fire hit him in the throat, killing him instantly. His
executive office, Major Howard Rice, was in another LVT which was
forced to land far to the west, behind Major Ryan. The senior officer
present with 2/2 was Lieutenant Colonel Walter Jordan, one of several
observers from the 4th Marine Division and one of only a handful
of survivors from Amey’s LVT. Jordan did what any Marine would do
under the circumstances: he assumed command and tried to rebuild the
disjointed pieces of the landing team into a cohesive fighting force.
The task was enormous.
The only assault unit to get ashore without significant casualties
was Major “Jim” Crowe’s LT 2/8 on Red Beach Three to the left of
the pier. Many historians have attributed this good fortune to the
continued direct fire support 2/8 received throughout its run to the
beach from the destroyers _Ringgold_ and _Dashiell_ in the lagoon.
The two ships indeed provided outstanding fire support to the landing
force, but their logbooks indicate both ships honored Admiral Hill’s
0855 ceasefire; thereafter, neither ship fired in support of LT 2/8
until at least 0925. Doubtlessly, the preliminary fire from such short
range served to keep the Japanese defenders on the eastern end of the
island buttoned up long after the ceasefire. As a result, Crowe’s team
suffered only 25 casualties in the first three LVT waves. Company E
made a significant penetration, crossing the barricade and the near
taxiway, but five of its six officers were shot down in the first
10 minutes ashore. Crowe’s LT 2/8 was up against some of the most
sophisticated defensive positions on the island; three fortifications
to their left (eastern) flank would effectively keep these Marines
boxed in for the next 48 hours.
[Illustration: