Category: This great Nation & Its People
“It was scary, you know? The damnedest thing…” The old Marine flicked at a bright yellow tie he was wearing. “We were ordered to take Atabrine to prevent malaria. Most of us did that but it tended to turn our eyes and skin a bright yellow. And then a rumor started that the stuff would make you sterile. As if the jungle and Japs weren’t bad enough … .”
A few other aging veterans of the 1st Marine Division during World War II had lots more to say as they reminisced about service in the South Pacific, but each time the Battle of Guadalcanal was mentioned, the atmosphere got dense and stories mostly turned morose. “The Japs had it right,” another vet added. “They called Guadalcanal the island of death.”
Very few remain with first-hand experience of combat on that island in the southern Solomons, but every Marine knows from the history lessons drummed into their psyche at boot camp that Guadalcanal was the first American offensive action following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
That brutal campaign stands out in military history for a number of reasons. One of those is the sheer sustained violence of the fighting in the Guadalcanal Campaign that took place in all three dimensions: sea, land and air. And in no other campaign of World War II did the outcome of a battle hang in a precarious balance for an extended period with one side and then the other gaining the upper hand.
A New Era
Beginning on August 7, 1942, and continuing for six bloody months, the Guadalcanal campaign was marked by seven major naval engagements, 20 or more ground combat engagements, plus daily clashes in the air over the Solomon Islands that frequently morphed into brutal battles between ships and attacking aircraft. Guadalcanal gave all participants an early and shocking look at what war in the Pacific Theater of Operations would involve. It was not pretty.
The Pacific War, which began for the U.S. on the 7th of December, 1941, caught the American forces flat-footed and staggering like a dizzied boxer after a standing eight-count. The normally resilient American self-confidence was shaken to its core.
The United States armed forces needed to come out swinging against a Japanese military armada, an experienced air, land and sea force that had carved a bloody path through China and Indonesia and had conquered American outposts at Guam, Wake, Bataan and Corregidor in the Philippines.
While as a result of continuing pressure on the United Kingdom from Nazi Germany the U.S. had agreed with allies on a Europe-first agenda for the war, it was clear that the Japanese juggernaut on the other side of the world had to be stopped.
That would, by nature of the Pacific battlefield with its vast stretches of open ocean and island strongpoints, make it primarily a naval and amphibious exercise. And that would, by nature of their training and experience, make it a job for which the U.S. Marine Corps was ideally suited.
What planners in Washington and Hawaii needed most desperately in efforts to stymie Japanese conquests in the South Pacific were locations that featured both space for an airfield and a deepwater anchorage to support warships. The Solomons had both, and orders were cut for Operation Watchtower. It was designed to seize Tulagi, Santa Cruz, and then Guadalcanal where the Japanese were already in the process of building an airfield.
Fighting for a Foothold on Guadalcanal
Enter the understrength 1st Marine Division, commanded by Maj. Gen. Alexander A. Vandegrift. He would lead his forces ashore in the Solomons on August 7th.
As usual under U.S. doctrine for amphibious operations, the Navy exercised overall command until Marines hit the beach. Command then shifted to the senior Marine officer in the landing force. For Watchtower, Vice Adm. Frank Fletcher commanded the Allied expedition, with Rear Adm. Richmond K. Turner in command of the amphibious force. That mixed command issue was nothing new to the Marines, but it caused significant problems early in the Guadalcanal campaign.
Gen. Vandegrift’s division was short one full regiment, with only the 1st and 5th Marines scheduled to hit the beaches for Operation Watchtower. The division’s third infantry regiment, the 7th Marines, had been detached earlier in the year to serve as garrison security on American Samoa to guard vital Pacific supply lines.
Vandegrift’s grunts landed in the Solomons with legacy rifles — the revered M1903 bolt-action Springfield — as well as an admixture of experimental weapons. Some units tried out the Harrington & Richardson M50 Reising submachine gun to supplement their M1928 Thompsons, and the attached Parachute Battalion of the division made a surface landing with some M1941 Johnson rifles. Neither of these experiments proved very successful in subsequent fighting.
For the most part, infantry fire support on Guadalcanal — other than what was provided by artillery from the 11th Marines (75mm and 105mm cannon and howitzers) — was provided by water- and air-cooled .30-cal. machine guns, organic mortars (81mm and 60mm) and the well-respected M1917 BAR.
While some of his forces were still mopping up after a stiff fight on Tulagi and adjacent small islands, Vandegrift led his Marines ashore between Koli and Lunga Points on the north side of Guadalcanal proper. To everyone’s surprise — and the infantrymen’s delight — they met almost no opposition.
By the afternoon of D-Day for Watchtower, the partially built Japanese airfield was in Marine hands. That prompted an immediate reaction from Japanese forces on Rabaul, which launched the first of what would become regular airstrikes and heavy bombing raids on the Marines spreading out on Guadalcanal.
Marines On Their Own
The next night (8 August), while Marines searched for stronger enemy presence on Guadalcanal, the U.S. Navy encountered a major Japanese task force and got badly pummeled in a chaotic surface engagement in full darkness that became known as the Battle of Savo Island.
As a result, Admirals Fletcher and Turner decided the risk to their remaining task force warships was too great and steamed away from the southern Solomons. They left with half of the Marine division’s allotted supplies, which would create critical, painful shortages in future actions, not to mention some significant bad feelings about the Navy among the Marines who felt like abandoned orphans on Guadalcanal.
Marines would have to make do with only what was delivered at Lunga Point before the Navy left. Regardless, Vandegrift knew priority one was to get that airfield completed, so all hands went to work using mostly captured Japanese equipment and lots of sweat in the jungle heat.
They had it ready to launch and recover aircraft by August 12th and promptly christened the shabby facility Henderson Field. This was done to honor Marine aviator Maj. Lofton R. Henderson, who was killed in action during the Battle of Midway. What the Marines did not have at this point was aircraft.
That situation was resolved on August 20th when a U.S. Navy carrier arrived to deliver Marine squadrons of Grumman F4F Wildcat fighters and Douglas SBD Dauntless dive bombers. Two days later, the U.S. Army Air Force got into the fight, landing five Bell P-400 Airacobras.
This aviation element was promptly dubbed the “Cactus Air Force” after the allied codename for Guadalcanal. Marine and Army aviators began launching sorties almost immediately and prompted what would turn out to be almost daily enemy air attacks on Henderson Field. This airfield became the center of the Marine perimeter as well as a high-profile target for later Japanese ground attacks.
Mounting Costs of the Battle of Guadalcanal
The Marines were in some serious logistical jeopardy on Guadalcanal. Only five days of rations had been landed from their transport ships before the Navy left. Cobbling that together with captured Japanese provisions gave the Marines only a two week food supply.
To conserve, Marines were limited to two meals each day. That not only sapped strength, but also combined with the heat and humidity and the constant labor on the airfield and defensive positions surrounding the Marine perimeter to create a very dire situation. Very soon a severe strain of dysentery swept through division units and, by mid-August, one in five Marines were afflicted.
Malaria also started to take a toll to the point where it became a sort of campaign symbol. As a matter of course, if you served on Guadalcanal you had dysentery, malaria or both. Atabrine was issued and Marines gobbled it up until some rumormonger spread the word it caused men to become sterile. That put a crimp in things and unit Hospital Corpsmen began to inspect mouths to insure the Atabrine was swallowed as directed. The entire Guadalcanal force was taking on a distinct yellow tinge to skin and eyeballs.
Ground combat skirmishes continued at various spots in the thin perimeter around Henderson Field and Lunga Point. In late August, Japanese forces made the first of many major attempts to recapture Henderson Field. It took the form of a night attack by the newly landed Imperial Japanese Army (IJA) 28 Infantry, which hit positions near Alligator Creek, a swampy tributary of the Ilu River.
Tipped off by a local islander scout named Jacob Vouza, the Marines were ready for the fight. Crossing the creek and a nearby sandbar was a disaster for the Japanese, who lost more than 700 KIA — mostly to converging machine gun, AT cannon, mortar and rifle fire from elements of the 1st Marines. Only about 30 men of the assaulting units survived to crawl back into the jungle.
The Return
Earlier in the campaign, Allied naval forces had taken a serious pounding in the Battle of Savo Island, a night action in which they lost four heavy cruisers. Payback came in late August. In a furious carrier-based fight, Allied sailors and aviators pummeled the Japanese, forcing them to withdraw from the eastern Solomons. While Japanese warships steamed away to refit and repair battle damages, enemy efforts to reinforce and resupply their troops on Guadalcanal continued.
Japanese logistical efforts using slow transports was just offering fat targets to U.S. aircraft and warships. As a result, the Japanese employed what became known to the Marines as the “Tokyo Express.” It involved stealthy nighttime sorties using fast vessels such as destroyers and light cruisers sneaking down The Slot (New Georgia Sound) to deliver troops, ammunition and supplies. It worked for a while and, by the end of August 1942, the Japanese were able to land their entire 35th Infantry Division and parts of their 2nd Infantry Division staging at Rabaul.
Of course, this large number of men had to be fed and resupplied with ammo. By this time in the campaign the Navy’s PT boats and the Cactus Air Force had gotten wise to the Tokyo Express and started hammering away at anything afloat near the island, day or night. Now the logistics worm had turned and the Japanese forces began to suffer from lack of food. They began to refer to Guadalcanal as “Starvation Island” or the “Island of Death.”
Unrelenting Pressure
Enemy forces on Guadalcanal now included at least two full infantry divisions and supporting arms. Throughout most of early September, the Japanese command on Guadalcanal launched a series of rabid attacks on the Marine perimeter while continuing to pound Henderson Field with daily air raids. One of the most memorable of these ground actions was the attack on what became known as Edson’s Ridge by a brigade of the IJA 35th Infantry Division.
Col. Merritt Edson (known throughout the Corps as Red Mike for his complexion and the fiery beard he sported during service in Nicaragua) commanded the 1st Raider Battalion in a bloody fight for Tulagi in the earliest phases of Operation Watchtower. Transferred to Vandegrift’s command on Guadalcanal, he was in command of a force including his own Raiders, two companies of the 1st Marine Parachute Battalion and 2nd Battalion, 5th Marines, sent to a ridgeline south of the airfield to get a short rest. The Japanese had other ideas and launched a dusk assault with more than 3,000 men. This nearly spelled disaster for the Marines.
Throughout the night the Marines, supported by a battery of howitzers brought up from Lunga Point, turned back wave after wave of frontal attacks, including several episodes of hand-to-hand combat. Defenders were pushed back to the edge of Henderson Field until the attack finally stalled and the Japanese survivors began to melt back into the jungle.
The butcher’s bill was steep, especially for the Japanese brigade that lost 850 killed in the Edson Ridge action versus slightly more than 100 Marines KIA. The fight at Edson’s Ridge was typical of increasing Japanese pressure on Guadalcanal Marines, but help was inbound.
Vandegrift, fully aware that American morale and prestige would suffer if the Guadalcanal campaign failed and, under constant enemy pressure, had appeared to suffer in stoic silence while continuing to ask the chain of command for help in a deteriorating situation.
His prayers were answered in September when a convoy arrived carrying nearly 5,000 men from the 3rd Provisional Marine Brigade. That brought the missing 7th Marines and another battalion of artillerymen from 11th Marines. Also arriving with the reinforcements were vital stores of tents, aviation fuel, ammo and rations. All of this plus some additional heavy construction equipment allowed Vandegrift to strengthen and consolidate a solid defensive perimeter around Lunga point and the jungle environs.
The costs were still high, though, with the carrier USS Wasp (CV-7) being sunk while escorting that convoy, leaving just one operational carrier — the USS Hornet (CV-8) — in the Pacific at the point.
Tipping Point
By the first week of September, Tokyo Express runs continually delivered troops from the Japanese 2nd Infantry Division to Guadalcanal. Vandegrift and his Marines maintained an offensive mindset despite having to hold vital defensive positions to safeguard Henderson Field.
When he deemed pressure on his perimeter had to be relieved, the commanding general sent a large combat team across the Matanikau River where they successfully attacked newly landed Japanese forces. This did severe damage to the IJA 4th Infantry Regiment and forced the Japanese command on Guadalcanal to surrender positions east of the Matanikau. More importantly, it delayed and disrupted their plans for a final, all-out assault to shatter Marine defenses and retake the airfield.
Then came the night of the battleships. Frustrated by the see-saw nature of the situation on Guadalcanal, the Japanese Navy steamed close to Guadalcanal on the night of October 14th with a huge force built around two battleships bristling with long-range 14-inch guns.
From 10 miles offshore, the big ships and escorts opened fire on Henderson Field. It was a frightening and crushing naval gunfire assault that sent everyone on the island running for cover. The Japanese gunners kept up a steady barrage, firing 973 14-inch rounds over an hour and a half. Most of that high-explosive fell on Henderson Field.
“That was the night of the battleships,” a Marine survivor said. “Never seen anything like it. Tore us up something awful…” It was a devastating blow to Allied air power on Guadalcanal, heavily damaging runways, burning nearly all available aviation fuel, and destroying 48 of the Cactus Air Force’s 90 aircraft. Only about a dozen aircraft were flyable by dawn the next day.
While troops were trying to rebuild at Henderson, pressure on perimeter positions steadily increased. In the last days of October, Japanese infantry staged another large-scale, bloody and brutal attack designed to crack the Marine perimeter.
It failed, but Marine defenders took a beating. All Allied eyes in the South Pacific were focused on Guadalcanal by this time, and many observers questioned the ability of the beleaguered Marine force to hang on in the face of tenacious Japanese forces that seemed to magically multiply.
Lt. Gen. Millard F. Harmon, commanding U.S. Army Forces in the South Pacific, convinced higher headquarters that Guadalcanal was becoming a battle of attrition that could end in an embarrassing stalemate. He wanted some of his soldiers to land on Guadalcanal, relieve the exhausted Marines and conduct an offensive out beyond the beleaguered perimeter designed to sweep all Japanese forces from the island.
Hard-Earned Support
In mid-October, the 164th Infantry of the Army’s Americal Division, landed on Guadalcanal, becoming the first U.S. Army unit to enter combat in the South Pacific. The floodgates were opened as Army units relieved Marines, taking up positions in the eastern sector of the Lunga perimeter.
The soldiers got a quick and bloody taste of combat against fanatical Japanese troops almost immediately when elements of the IJA 2nd Infantry Division staged a multi-prong assault on the fresh troops.
The soldiers, fighting alongside Marines, got a quick and continuous lesson in jungle combat in the last week of October 1942. They helped fight off at least three more major enemy attempts to poke holes in the Lunga perimeter defense, accounting for some 1,500 Japanese killed in close combat.
While enemy losses in ground engagements continued to mount, the war at sea in the Solomons also reached a critical juncture. In mid-November, the U.S. Navy smashed a Japanese troop convoy and most of its escort vessels. The Japanese command now realized it was impossible for them to reinforce units remaining on Guadalcanal. They were forced to abandon the fight for Lunga Point and Henderson Field in the face of staggering losses and a shaky logistics pipeline.
Japanese troops remaining on the island would slip away to regroup in jungle lairs west of the Matanikau and move toward high ground and defensive bastions in other parts of Guadalcanal, such as those marked on tactical maps as Mount Austen and the Galloping Horse.
Toward the end of 1942, the rest of the Americal Division (182nd and 132nd Infantry) arrived and the tight Lunga perimeter began to expand rapidly, with soldiers relieving exhausted Marines and conducting longer-range patrols. A new command was established on Guadalcanal.
Army Maj. Gen. Alexander Patch was placed in charge of the XIV Corps, that was composed of the Americal Division, the 25th Infantry Division (Tropic Lightning) and the 2nd Marine Division.
Turning the Tide
In January 1943, as the ragged remnants of the 1st Marine Division boarded ships to leave Guadalcanal where they had held virtually unassisted for nearly six bloody months, they left behind a huge, multi-service command. Gen. Patch’s corps numbered more than 50,000 men. They promptly went to work chasing down what was left of a large enemy force now holding out in jungle redoubts.
In the first two months of 1943, soldiers plus 2nd Division Marines went after Japanese remnants stubbornly holding high-ground positions. Major assaults on jungle terrain features such as Mount Austen, the Sea Horse and Galloping Horse ridgelines turned out to be tough, bloody fights.
The shattered and tattered enemy survivors were caught in a bloody vice. That was the last gasp for the Japanese remaining on Guadalcanal. Those that survived the crucible on the island of death escaped by sea in a reverse version of the Tokyo Express, evacuating only a third of the more than 30,000 men that Japan committed to combat on Guadalcanal. Gen. Patch declared the island secure on 9 February 1943.
By the end of the January offensive on these jungle redoubts, the American command had tallied another 3,000 Japanese killed in action. Gen. Patch next coordinated a final offensive with 2nd Division Marines advancing along the northern coastline of Guadalcanal, while Army troops from Tropic Lightning pushed from the opposite direction.
Operation Watchtower and the fight for the Solomons had been a long, costly, debilitating struggle, especially for the 1st Marine Division, but the tide was turned. Japanese expansion was halted and the momentum shifted to the allies. Because of Guadalcanal and the men who fought for that island, the worm of war had turned in the South Pacific.
“Servicemen” in action near Anzio. The 2.36” M1A1 Bazooka gave the FSSF some anti-tank capability and was also frequently used against bunkers and other hardened positions.
NARA photograph.
Throughout 1941 and 1942, the British military sought to harass and disrupt German operations in occupied Western Europe by any means possible. British commandos raided bases on Hitler’s Atlantic Wall, primarily on the French coast, but also in Norway. In March 1942, “Project Plough” was proposed to Lord Louis Mountbatten, the British chief of combined operations. Project Plough’s target was Norway, and the mission was to land a significant commando force, specially trained and equipped for winter and mountain warfare, to create a base within Norwegian territory that would harass the Germans in Norway while preparing a route to invade Germany from the north.
“Plough” was a highly ambitious plan, to say the least, and it demanded far more resources than the British commando organization could provide. Instead, the concept was offered to the Americans and was accepted by Gen. George Marshall, chief of staff of the U.S. Army. By May 1942, the plans for “Plough” had been reviewed by Maj. Robert T. Frederick, an operations officer on the U.S. general staff. Frederick assessed the Project Plough as being unfeasible, with unachievable goals and genuine potential for complete disaster. Even so, Gen. Marshall and Gen. Dwight Eisenhower did not want to back down from the challenge—and the potential to open a coveted second front against Germany.
A Joint Canadian American Force
After a brief period with Lt. Col. Johnson at the helm of the project, Lord Mountbatten suggested that, despite his poor assessment of the plan, Maj. Frederick take over. 
Eisenhower approved, promoted Frederick to colonel, and instructed him to create a fighting force to make it work. On July 9, 1942, the First Special Service Force (FSSF) was activated as a top secret, joint Canadian-U.S. force that answered directly to the joint chiefs of staff.
A joint Canadian American strike force: Cleaning an M1 rifle in the FSSF’s Helena barracks. Author’s photo collection.
The American contingent was drawn from officer cadets at Fort Benning and Fort Belvoir, along with men recruited from northern and western areas with experience as hunters, guides, lumberjacks and other hardy outdoorsmen. Canadian volunteers were mostly diverted from a proposed Canadian parachute battalion. The Canadians remained in their own army (and were paid by the Canadian government), but their uniforms, equipment and supplies were provided by the U.S. Army. Training began almost immediately at Fort William Henry Harrison near Helena, Mont.
The Canadians provided combat experience including first-hand knowledge of German small arms. Here a Canadian member of the FSSF demonstrates the German MG34. Author’s photo collection.
In the following months, the FSSF members were in for intense training in the rugged mountains of Montana. A high percentage of injuries were incurred in their early parachute training operations, and the coupling of Canadian and American troops created unique challenges for the force leaders. Ski and snowshoe training was provided by Norwegian instructors. Eventually, the unit began to gel, and as the men became a cohesive fighting force, they referred to each other as “Forcemen.”
After returning from Kiska: A FSSF display including a captured Japanese Arisaka rifle, along with a German MG34 LMG and Mauser Karabiner 98k rifle, along with a Canadian Lee-Enfield No. 4 Mk I (not used by the Forcemen). Author’s photo collection.
On Aug. 15, 1943, the FSSF was part of the invading force that landed on Kiska in the Aleutian Island chain. But there was no baptism of fire for the Devil’s Brigade on Kiska—the Japanese had abandoned their positions there. By mid-September, the Forcemen had returned to the U.S. assembling at Fort Ethan Allen in Vermont. They were soon to discover that “Project Plough,” and any notion of attacking Germany or occupied Europe through Norway, had been scrapped. The men were trained and ready, and now they were literally looking for a fight. They found it on the Italian front. On Nov. 19, 1943, the FSSF went into the line in the mountains near Naples.
The Thompson SMG provided the short-range firepower for the 1SSF, shown in a Forcemen’s display along with a German MP40, an early Sten Mk II, and a Mauser Karabiner 98k rifle. Author’s photo collection.
Making A Name For Themselves
Beginning with their daring, mountain-climbing attack on German defenses atop Monte la Difensa, and through several other mountain actions, the FSSF earned a reputation for bravery and ferocity. In February 1944, after the Forcemen began their aggressive raids against German positions surrounding the Anzio beachhead, the unit gained the nickname “The Black Devils.”
Whether this originated from their German opponents or was something dreamed up by Col. Frederick and his staff to add to their reputation remains a mystery. Either way, the FSSF ultimately earned the moniker and paid for it in blood—with an overall attrition rate of more than 600 percent. In their relatively short combat career, the 1,800 men of the FSSF created more than 12,000 German casualties, while taking almost 7,000 prisoners.
The Germans consistently over-estimated the size of the force, assuming that it was a division-size formation. A captured German communication describing the FSSF was pointed: “They are treacherous, unmerciful and clever. You cannot afford to relax.” Meanwhile, the Forcemen were noted for leaving a combat “calling card,” a sticker written in German that loosely translated to “The worst is yet to come.” The FSSF was as prophetic as they were deadly.
Mountain fighting: The FSSF carried its “Johnny Guns” wherever it went, including their harrowing mountain warfare experiences in Italy. This Forceman with his M1941 Johnson LMG is seen near Radicosa, Italy in January 1944. NARA photograph.
Arming The Forcemen
The FSSF was always envisioned as a strike force, a cross between commandos, paratroopers and light infantry. Consequently, their arms needed to be light enough to be easily carried into any combat environment while delivering the greatest amount of hard-hitting firepower.
The FSSF used the .30-cal. Browning M1919A4 as its medium machine gun. Author’s photo collection.
The FSSF was equipped with U.S. gear, and despite the Canadian presence in the force, American rifles, submachine gun, and light machine guns were chosen as armament. Colonel Frederick had a direct pipeline to U.S. Army supply, and this gave FSSF priority in their requests. They received the semi-automatic M1 Garand rifle at a time when many American units still carried the bolt-action M1903 Springfield, and their British counterparts carried the bolt-action SMLE.
The Forcemen also received the .45-cal. Thompson SMG in quantity—at a time when British commandos were transitioning to the lighter 9 mm Sten gun. The Browning Automatic Rifle rounded out the initial mix of firearms for the force. The Garand, the Thompson and the BAR were all excellent firearms, offering an excellent combination of firepower, range, and accuracy. Unfortunately, they were all rather heavy for a commando force that was expecting to be committed to battle by air.
The heaviest gun in FSSF firearms arsenal was the Browning .30-cal. M1919A4 machine gun—the gun weighing in at about 31 lbs., with its M2 tripod weighing 14 lbs. The M1919A4 was a capable machine gun (with a steady cyclic rate of 600 rpm), but its overall weight minimized its use in FSSF operations, particularly in mountain fighting in Italy.
A moment to remember the fallen: FSSF men pause to honor a friend before they move on to the next battle. Anzio area, 1944. NARA photograph.
To help sustain the Force behind enemy lines, FSSF members were trained on the use and maintenance of German firearms, most notably the Mauser 98k rifle (8 mm Mauser), the MP 40 submachine gun (9 mm Luger), and the MG34 GPMG (8 mm Mauser).
The “Johnny Gun”
The FSSF was open to a wide range of infantry arms to suit their needs, and this led them to test the Johnson M1941 LMG during early 1943. Impressed with its unique design, the FSSF requested 125 of the guns. American Rifleman Field Editor Bruce Canfield notes that these were procured by the U.S. Army from the Netherlands Purchasing Commission and not via a trade with the United States Marine Corps (the only other U.S. military user of the M1941 LMG).
The FSSF used the .30-cal. Johnson M1941 LMG (called the “Johnny Gun” by Forcemen) during their time in Italy. Note the bipod and 20-round magazine held by the man at the right. Anzio area, early 1944. Author’s photo collection.
The FSSF encountered some early problems with their “Johnny Guns” (issues with extractors, bolt handles and magazine springs)—and these concerns were chalked up to limited training and inexperience with the type. As time went on, the FSSF’s maintenance record with the Johnson LMG improved consistently, and the M1941 would perform well in combat in Italy. Johnson LMGs offered an easily replaceable barrel, and a good supply of spare barrels helped keep the rare Johnny Guns in service through the Anzio breakout.
Melvin Johnson demonstrating the Johnson LMG during the summer of 1940. The firearm could be loaded by stripper clips at the ejection port, or single rounds could be loaded into the breech. Author’s photo collection.
Overall reactions from the FSSF to the Johnson LMG showed the men preferred its light and flexible firepower in offensive operations—particularly valuable for aggressive light infantry operating in the rugged Italian terrain. The Johnson LMG’s firepower-to-weight ratio was impressive: it weighed little more than 12 lbs., not much more than a loaded M1 rifle, and about the same as a Thompson submachine gun (the M1A1 Thompson weighed 10 lbs., unloaded). Firing at up to 600 rpm, the Johnny Gun’s firepower often turned the tide in favor of the Devil’s Brigade at critical moments in combat.
A rare image of the Johnson LMG in action with the FSSF. Anzio area, 1944. NARA photograph.
In his book “The First Special Service Force: A War History of the North Americans” (Infantry Journal Press, 1947), Lt. Col.l Robert Burhans commented on the Johnson LMG’s importance to the Forcemen: “The Johnson was, pound for pound, the most valuable weapon the FSSF possessed.”
Back from raid: Men of the FSSF examine a captured MG15 light machine gun. Note the 75-round “saddle drum” magazine in the foreground. Anzio area, 1944. NARA photograph.
Hand-to-Hand
Reflecting the true commando spirit, the Forcemen were skilled in hand-to-hand combat. To this end, the FSSF developed its own fighting knife: The Fighting Commando Knife, Type V-42. Colonel Frederick and several other Force officers contributed to the design of the V-42, which was based on the British Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife. The V-42 stiletto is a frightening bit of gear, particularly in the hands of trained commando—its double-edged, carbon-steel blade could penetrate a German helmet with a single thrust. A pointed steel “skull crusher” was added to the pommel to create one of the most intimidating fighting knives of all time.
FSSF men in training near Helena, Mont. Note the use of the wooden dummy M1 rifle. NARA photograph.
A Quiet Ending
After participating in the invasion of Southern France during August 1944, the FSSF took up defensive positions on the border of France and Italy. The end of the war came quietly for the First Special Service Force. On Dec. 5, 1944, the FSSF was disbanded in Villeneuve-Loubet. What began as an unfeasible plan to open a second front in frozen Norway, ultimately created one of the finest special forces in the proud history of two armies—American and Canadian.
The Battle of Gaines’ Mill, Virginia and some mighty hard fighting men!
Jack Lucas was 17 when he earned the Medal of Honor,
America’s highest award for valor in combat. He once
thanked me for my service. Wow.
World War II was the bloodiest conflict in human history. We’ve been offing each other wholesale ever since Cain first got cross with his brother Abel. The Second World War just took everything to the next level.
Part of it was the scope of the thing. World war was not hyperbole. Most everybody on Planet Earth called a side and then went at it. The other bit was technology. In the past, we had done okay developing the tools and tactics to support mass homicide. During WWII, we raised that to an art form.
World War II burned on for six years. It ultimately claimed upwards of 80 million lives. That’s about 3% of the human species at the time. About a third of that was the result of famine and disease that exploded secondary to the conflict.
Chairman Mao said that a single death is a tragedy but that a million deaths was a statistic. Today, I’d like to dig a little bit deeper. Let’s explore some of the details associated with the most horrible war in human history.
In the Beginning …
The first German serviceman to perish during the war was Lieutenant von Schmeling. He was killed by the Japanese in 1937 while leading a Chinese infantry battalion as a military advisor to the Nationalists.
The Royal Air Force launched their first serious nighttime raid on Berlin on 26 August 1940. It was an unmitigated disaster. Six of the 50 bombers were lost, two Germans were slightly injured, and a single woodshed in a Berlin suburb was destroyed. The ill-fated raid did, however, kill one of the nine elephants held in the Berlin Zoo. Only one of the nine, an Indian bull named Siam, survived the war.
This is Calvin Graham. He was 12 when he conned
his way into the U.S. Navy during WWII.
Things Get Real
Truth be known, the war was over the moment the first bomb fell on Pearl Harbor. It just took another four years or so to work out the details. Grit and valor rightfully captured the headlines, but it was American production that really drove the train.
In 1941, the U.S. auto industry produced more than 3 million civilian cars. For the rest of the war, we only built 139. Every single bit of that production went to war materiel. The world had never seen production on that scale, and it never will again.
The U.S. Navy entered the war with seven fleet carriers and one escort carrier. By the end of 1942, the Japanese had sunk four of them.
By D-Day, we severely curtailed the production of capital ships. The writing was on the wall that we would win the war. While we began WWII with eight aircraft carriers, we ended the conflict with 111. At the height of production, we were churning out 65,000 M1 carbines per day.
Such breathtaking production made a great many people filthy rich. Both Henry Ford and Adolf Hitler kept pictures of each other in their personal offices. Before the war was done, we had produced enough ammunition to shoot every human being on the planet 40 times.
Relativity
I was a military pilot myself, which is the sexiest job in the universe. Every normal male, in quiet moments, imagines himself tearing about the skies over Europe in a P38 Lightning or P51 Mustang. During the course of the war, more than 128,000 Allied aircrewmen died in combat. More U.S. Army Air Corps personnel fell than did U.S. Marines.
In total, 27,000 American fliers were killed in action. In 1943, at the height of the air war in Europe, only one in four bomber crewmen survived to complete a full 25 missions. The remaining 75% were wounded, captured or killed. Fifty-one percent of British Bomber Command crews perished. However, as bad as that was, German U-boat men had it worse. Three-quarters of them were lost to the sea.
Perceptions
We rightfully fixate on American exploits during the war. “Band of Brothers,” “Saving Private Ryan,” “Masters of the Air,” and “The Pacific” tend to burn the details into our national consciousness. However, if the sheer volume of blood spilled is your metric, the places where our boys bled and died were sideshows. The Eastern Front was the real slaughterhouse.
Eighty percent of the German dead incurred during the war fell on the Eastern Front. Four-fifths of all Russian males born in 1923 did not survive the war. WWII claimed 15% of the total Russian population. More Russians died during the siege of Stalingrad than the U.S. and Britain lost during the entire conflict.
William Hitler, Adolf’s nephew, served in
the U.S. Navy during the war.
Total War
Winning the war required a maximum effort. Adolf Hitler’s nephew William served in the U.S. Navy. The youngest American serviceman was a U.S. Navy sailor named Calvin Graham. Calvin was 12 when he lied about his age and somehow got past the recruiters. His actual age was not discovered until after he was wounded in combat.
Jack Lucas was big for his age. He forged his mother’s name and bribed a notary to enlist in the Marine Corps at age 14. When his commander found out how young he was, he was removed from his combat unit. Jack subsequently went AWOL and stowed away aboard an assault transport headed for Iwo Jima. He was in combat for 48 hours. During that time, he threw himself on top of two live Japanese grenades at the same time to save his buddies, and yet miraculously survived. He earned the Medal of Honor at age 17. The first communication I had with the man, he thanked me, for my service.
Lt. Hiroo Onoda was the second-to-last Japanese soldier
to surrender after WWII. He survived and fought in the Philippine
jungles for nearly 29 years after the war formally ended.
Epilogue
Many Japanese soldiers refused to surrender. They trickled in from the jungles for decades afterward. Lt. Hiroo Onoda was the next to last.
An Imperial Japanese Army intelligence officer, Lt. Onoda, fought a guerilla war in the Philippines until 1974. His unit killed some 30 Filipinos after the war ended. Despite loudspeakers, leaflets and a personal entreaty from the Emperor, Onoda adamantly refused to quit. It was only when his former commander trekked in to order him to stand down that he finally came out of the jungle.
When he surrendered, Onoda had in his possession his sword, a serviceable Type 99 Arisaka rifle, several live hand grenades and 500 rounds of ammunition. He also had a dagger given to him by his mother, along with instructions to kill himself in lieu of capture. World War II was indeed a war like no other.