_Maj Henry P. “Jim” Crowe (standing, using radio handset) rallies
Landing Team 2/8 behind a disabled LVT on Red Beach Three on D-Day.
Carrying a shotgun, he went from foxhole to foxhole urging his troops
forward against heavy enemy fire._]
Colonel Shoup, moving slowly towards the beach along the pier, ordered
Major Ruud’s LT 3/8 to land on Red Beach Three, east of the pier. By
this time in the morning there were no organized LVT units left to help
transport the reserve battalion ashore. Shoup ordered Ruud to approach
as closely as he could by landing boats, then wade the remaining
distance. Ruud received his assault orders from Shoup at 1103. For the
next six hours the two officers were never more than a mile apart, yet
neither could communicate with the other.
Ruud divided his landing team into seven waves, but once the boats
approached the reef the distinctions blurred. Japanese antiboat guns
zeroed in on the landing craft with frightful accuracy, often hitting
just as the bow ramp dropped. Survivors reported the distinctive
“clang” as a shell impacted, a split second before the explosion. “It
happened a dozen times,” recalled Staff Sergeant Hatch, watching from
the beach, “the boat blown completely out of the water and smashed and
bodies all over the place.” Robert Sherrod reported from a different
vantage point, “I watched a Jap shell hit directly on a [landing craft]
that was bringing many Marines ashore. The explosion was terrific and
parts of the boat flew in all directions.” Some Navy coxswains, seeing
the slaughter just ahead, stopped their boats seaward of the reef and
ordered the troops off. The Marines, many loaded with radios or wire
or extra ammunition, sank immediately in deep water; most drowned. The
reward for those troops whose boats made it intact to the reef was
hardly less sanguinary: a 600-yard wade through withering crossfire,
heavier by far than that endured by the first assault waves at H-Hour.
The slaughter among the first wave of Companies K and L was terrible.
Seventy percent fell attempting to reach the beach.
Seeing this, Shoup and his party waved frantically to groups of Marines
in the following waves to seek protection of the pier. A great number
did this, but so many officers and noncommissioned officers had been
hit that the stragglers were shattered and disorganized. The pier
itself was a dubious shelter, receiving intermittent machine gun and
sniper fire from both sides. Shoup himself was struck in nine places,
including a spent bullet which came close to penetrating his bull neck.
His runner crouching beside him was drilled between the eyes by a
Japanese sniper.
Captain Carl W. Hoffman, commanding 3/8’s Weapons Company, had no
better luck getting ashore than the infantry companies ahead. “My
landing craft had a direct hit from a Japanese mortar. We lost six or
eight people right there.” Hoffman’s Marines veered toward the pier,
then worked their way ashore.
Major Ruud, frustrated at being unable to contact Shoup, radioed his
regimental commander, Colonel Hall: “Third wave landed on Beach Red 3
were practically wiped out. Fourth wave landed ... but only a few men
got ashore.” Hall, himself in a small boat near the line of departure,
was unable to respond. Brigadier General Leo D. (“Dutch”) Hermle,
assistant division commander, interceded with the message, “Stay where
you are or retreat out of gun range.” This added to the confusion. As
a result, Ruud himself did not reach the pier until mid-afternoon. It
was 1730 before he could lead the remnants of his men ashore; some did
not straggle in until the following day. Shoup dispatched what was left
of LT 3/8 in support of Crowe’s embattled 2/8; others were used to help
plug the gap between 2/8 and the combined troops of 2/2 and 1/2.
Shoup finally reached Betio at noon and established a command post 50
yards in from the pier along the blind side of a large Japanese bunker,
still occupied. The colonel posted guards to keep the enemy from
launching any unwelcome sorties, but the approaches to the site itself
were as exposed as any other place on the flat island. At least two
dozen messengers were shot while bearing dispatches to and from Shoup.
Sherrod crawled up to the grim-faced colonel, who admitted, “We’re in
a tight spot. We’ve got to have more men.” Sherrod looked out at the
exposed waters on both sides of the pier. Already he could count 50
disabled LVTs, tanks, and boats. The prospects did not look good.
The first order of business upon Shoup’s reaching dry ground was to
seek updated reports from the landing team commanders. If anything,
tactical communications were worse at noon than they had been during
the morning. Shoup still had no contact with any troops ashore on
Red Beach One, and now he could no longer raise General Smith on
_Maryland_. A dire message came from LT 2/2: “We need help. Situation
bad.” Later a messenger arrived from that unit with this report: “All
communications out except runners. CO killed. No word from E Company.”
Shoup found Lieutenant Colonel Jordan, ordered him to keep command of
2/2, and sought to reinforce him with elements from 1/2 and 3/8. Shoup
gave Jordan an hour to organize and rearm his assorted detachments,
then ordered him to attack inland to the airstrip and expand the
beachhead.
Shoup then directed Evans Carlson to hitch a ride out to the _Maryland_
and give General Smith and Admiral Hill a personal report of the
situation ashore. Shoup’s strength of character was beginning to show.
“You tell the general and the admiral,” he ordered Carlson, “that we
are going to stick and fight it out.” Carlson departed immediately, but
such were the hazards and confusion between the beach and the line of
departure that he did not reach the flagship until 1800.
[Illustration: _Captain and crew of_ Zeilin _(APA 3) pause on D-Day
to commit casualties to the deep. The three dead men (two Marines and
a Navy surgeon), were found in a derelict LVT drifting through the
transport area, 10 miles away from the beaches._
LtGen Julian C. Smith Collection
]
Matters of critical resupply then captured Shoup’s attention. Beyond
the pier he could see nearly a hundred small craft, circling aimlessly.
These, he knew, carried assorted supplies from the transports and cargo
ships, unloading as rapidly as they could in compliance with Admiral
Nimitz’s stricture to “get the hell in, then get the hell out.” The
indiscriminate unloading was hindering prosecution of the fight ashore.
Shoup had no idea which boat held which supplies. He sent word to the
Primary Control Officer to send only the most critical supplies to the
pierhead: ammunition, water, blood plasma, stretchers, LVT fuel, more
radios.
Shoup then conferred with Lieutenant Colonel Rixey. While naval gunfire
support since the landing had been magnificent, it was time for the
Marines to bring their own artillery ashore. The original plan to land
the 1st Battalion/10th Marines, on Red One was no longer practical.
Shoup and Rixey agreed to try a landing on the left flank of Red Two,
close to the pier. Rixey’s guns were 75mm pack howitzers, boated in
LCVPs. The expeditionary guns could be broken down for manhandling.
Rixey, having seen from close at hand what happened when LT 3/8 had
tried to wade ashore from the reef, went after the last remaining
LVTs. There were enough operational vehicles for just two sections of
Batteries A and B. In the confusion of transfer-line operations, three
sections of Battery C followed the LVTs shoreward in their open boats.
Luck was with the artillerymen. The LVTs landed their guns intact
by late afternoon. When the trailing boats hung up on the reef, the
intrepid Marines humped the heavy components through the bullet-swept
waters to the pier and eventually ashore at twilight. There would be
close-in fire support available at daybreak.
Julian Smith knew little of these events, and he continued striving to
piece together the tactical situation ashore. From observation reports
from staff officers aloft in the float planes, he concluded that the
situation in the early afternoon was desperate. Although elements
of five infantry battalions were ashore, their toehold was at best
precarious. As Smith later recalled, “the gap between Red 1 and Red 2
had not been closed and the left flank on Red 3 was by no means secure.”
Smith assumed that Shoup was still alive and functioning, but he could
ill afford to gamble. For the next several hours the commanding general
did his best to influence the action ashore from the flagship. Smith’s
first step was the most critical. At 1331 he sent a radio message to
General Holland Smith, reporting “situation in doubt” and requesting
release of the 6th Marines to division control. In the meantime, having
ordered his last remaining landing team (Hays’ 1/8) to the line of
departure, Smith began reconstituting an emergency division reserve
comprised of bits and pieces of the artillery, engineer, and service
troop units.
[Illustration: