_LVT-1 49 (“My Deloris”), the first vehicle to reach Betio’s shore,
lies in her final resting place amid death and destruction, including
a disabled LVT-2 from a follow-on assault wave. This photo was taken
after D-Day. Maintenance crews attempted to salvage “My Deloris” during
the battle, moving her somewhat eastward from the original landing
point on “the bird’s beak,” but she was too riddled with shell holes to
operate. After the battle, “My Deloris” was sent to the United States
as an exhibit for War Bond drives. The historic vehicle is now at the
Tracked Vehicle Museum at Camp DelMar, California._]
Colonel Shoup at this time was in the middle of a long odyssey trying
to get ashore. He paused briefly for this memorable exchange of radio
messages with Major Schoettel.
0959: (Schoettel to Shoup) “Receiving heavy fire all along beach.
Unable to land all. Issue in doubt.”
1007: (Schoettel to Shoup) “Boats held up on reef of right flank
Red 1. Troops receiving heavy fire in water.”
1012: (Shoup to Schoettel) “Land Beach Red 2 and work west.”
1018: (Schoettel to Shoup) “We have nothing left to land.”
When Shoup’s LCVP was stopped by the reef, he transferred to a passing
LVT. His party included Lieutenant Colonel Evans F. Carlson, already
a media legend for his earlier exploits at Makin and Guadalcanal,
now serving as an observer, and Lieutenant Colonel Presley M. Rixey,
commanding 1st Battalion, 10th Marines, Shoup’s artillery detachment.
The LVT made three attempts to land; each time the enemy fire was too
intense. On the third try, the vehicle was hit and disabled by plunging
fire. Shoup sustained a painful shell fragment wound in his leg, but
led his small party out of the stricken vehicle and into the dubious
shelter of the pier. From this position, standing waist-deep in water,
surrounded by thousands of dead fish and dozens of floating bodies,
Shoup manned his radio, trying desperately to get organized combat
units ashore to sway the balance.
For awhile, Shoup had hopes that the new Sherman tanks would serve
to break the gridlock. The combat debut of the Marine medium tanks,
however, was inauspicious on D-Day. The tankers were valorous, but
the 2d Marine Division had no concept of how to employ tanks against
fortified positions. When four Shermans reached Red Beach Three late
in the morning of D-Day, Major Crowe simply waved them forward with
orders to “knock out all enemy positions encountered.” The tank crews,
buttoned up under fire, were virtually blind. Without accompanying
infantry they were lost piecemeal, some knocked out by Japanese 75mm
guns, others damaged by American dive bombers.
Six Shermans tried to land on Red Beach One, each preceded by a
dismounted guide to warn of underwater shell craters. The guides were
shot down every few minutes by Japanese marksmen; each time another
volunteer would step forward to continue the movement. Combat engineers
had blown a hole in the seawall for the tanks to pass inland, but
the way was now blocked with dead and wounded Marines. Rather than
run over his fellow Marines, the commander reversed his column and
proceeded around the “bird’s beak” towards a second opening blasted in
the seawall. Operating in the turbid waters now without guides, four
tanks foundered in shell holes in the detour. Inland from the beach,
one of the surviving Shermans engaged a plucky Japanese light tank. The
Marine tank demolished its smaller opponent, but not before the doomed
Japanese crew released one final 37mm round, a phenomenal shot, right
down the barrel of the Sherman.
[Illustration: