That night the lieutenant and his runner shared a shallow foxhole and
split the watches between them. Death came close:
Slowly, very slowly, the hours of my watch passed, and at last I
leaned over and shook my runner awake. “It’s time for your watch,”
I whispered. “Look out for that place over there, maybe Japs in it.
Keep awake.” With that I rolled over on the ground and was asleep
in an instant.
Right away, it seemed, someone was shaking me and insisting, “Wake
up!” I jerked bolt upright--in combat your reflexes act fast and
you never go fully to sleep. A glance at my watch showed that it
was almost dawn.
I turned to my runner who was lying against me, asleep. “Let’s go!”
I said, “Pass the word to the squad leaders to get set.” He didn’t
stir. I shook him. He still didn’t move. He was dead. With the
callousness that war demands, I rolled him over, reached for his
canteen, and poured the precious water into my own canteen. Then I
left him lying there....
[Illustration: _Marines dig in on the beachhead, consolidating their
positions, and at the same time preparing to move out on the attack
inland._
Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 81917
]
All the assault regiments were taking casualties from the constant
shelling that was zeroed in by spotters on the high ground inland.
Supplies and reinforcing units piled up in confusion on the landing
beaches. Snipers were everywhere. Supporting waves experienced the
same deadly enemy fire on their way to the beach. Some LVTs lost
their direction, some received direct hits, and others were flipped
on their sides by waves or enemy fire spilling their equipment and
personnel onto the reef. Casualties in both divisions mounted rapidly.
Evacuating them to the ships was extremely dangerous and difficult.
Medical aid stations set up ashore were under sporadic enemy fire.
[Illustration: