Dear Grumpy Advice on Teaching in Today's Classroom This great Nation & Its People

American Carnage: The Deadliest Days in American History

This great Nation & Its People War

We were very lucky to have guys like this !!! Grumpy

The crew of B-29 Superfortress 42-24598 “Waddy’s Wagon”, 20th Air Force, 73rd Bomb Wing, 497th Bomb Group, 869th Bomb Squadron, the fifth B-29 to take off on the first Tokyo mission from Saipan on November 24, 1944, and first to land back at Isley Field after bombing the target.
Crew members  posing here to duplicate their caricatures on the plane. Light-hearted humor in the face of death and destruction. That generation were some incredibly brave guys…
Allies Gear & Stuff Soldiering This great Nation & Its People War

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All About Guns Allies This great Nation & Its People Well I thought it was funny!

The Mama Mia Mishap by Skeeter Skelton

Shooting Times Magazine

June 1980

General Delivery

Horsethief, NM

(Sunday Night)

Alex Bartimo, Editor

Shooting Times

Box 1790

Peoria IL 61656

Dear Bart:

This isn’t actually from Horsethief. I’m camped in the big timber about halfway up the side of San Miguel mountain. Saint Mike, we call it. You may not be able to read my poor handwriting because of the the watermarks on the paper. I know I should be weeping about missing the deadline on this month’s gun review, but I’m sorry to say these splotches weren’t made by tears.

Rain and snow did that.

I’m trapped here, and it’s my own fault. Down at the house in Horsethief, I contracted cabin fever. No pals had visited in more than a month. I don’t take a newspaper (you can get bad news anywhere). I’d read every book on the place at least twice, and Horsethief has no library or newsstand. We get one television station from Albuquerque via a repeater in the mountains, and it runs Bozo the Clown, As The World Flips, intriguing situation comedies about the family problems of New York taxi drivers, and wilderness stories about mountain men who feed themselves and their pet mountain lions with mushrooms and rosehips gathered in the dew.

My set is still like new-it never gets turned on.

The fact of the matter is, I was bored stiff when I got this foreign .380 you wanted shot and decided to make it my excuse to come up to this big stretch of forest belonging to a friend of mine. I was going to stay a couple of days, shoot, and drowse in the sunshine.

Didn’t work out that way.

I like to carry extras, so I packed my old pickup with sleeping bag and big tarp, groceries for two or three days-including canned corned beef hash, chili con carne, coffee, bacon, eggs, and a sack of fresh biscuits. And one jug of Henry McKenna redeye to ward off the weeps around the evening fire. Luckily, I also brought a Coleman camp stove and lantern because I planned on cooking on an open fire.

I stowed the camera equipment, figuring on getting pictures of .380 on tree stump and (using a selftimer) heroic poses of my classic profile looking off into the horizon.

The trip up was nice. Plenty of sunshine. Few melting snowbanks left from winter. Jeep road a little tough on pickup, but made it to campsite okay. Strung lariat rope between two trees and wired end of tarp to it. Made lean-to. Took rocks from clear, cold stream and built fireplace. Gathered enough dead wood to last two days. Unrolled sleeping bag, laid holstered Ruger .44 beside it. Was home.

Built fire, had hash and biscuits, raunchy coffee. Took tot of McKenna while looking at stars. Wondered what city folks were doing. Turned in early.

Up before first light. Drizzling rain. Get GI poncho from truck’s toolbox. Trouble getting fire going with wet wood. Pour on Coleman fuel. Burn fingers…..Biscuits, bacon and coffee.

Sitting in lean-to, I examine new .380. Most unusual. Called the Mama Mia. Made in Costa Rica by Hijos de Basura, S.A. and imported by Larson E. Rippoff Inc. Homossa Springs, Florida. Price: $469.98. About five inches long. Ten-shot staggered magazine extends one-half inch below butt. Double action with pull of approximately 20 pounds; single-action pull about 25 pounds.

Shiny plastic grips. Shiny plastic trigger guard (combat style). Shiny plastic sight rib and sights. Rear sight adjustable for windage. One click equals 12 inches at 25 yards.

Extra 48-shot magazine is curved. Might not do much for feeding but looks jazzy, making pistol five inches long and 1 ¼ feet deep. Optional flash hider and grenade launcher supplied with my review gun. Extras cost only $189.98.

Many cast parts in pistol. Nothing wrong with well-cast parts, but these of somewhat lesser quality than lead soldiers I made as a boy.

Can’t shoot, must wait out rain. Wait all day. Except for small supply under tarp, wood is soaked. Crank up Coleman stove. Chili and biscuits. Wish had brought tortillas and refried beans. Hit sack early. Sleeping bag feels damp.

Third day now. Raining harder. Decide to go home. Dismantle camp, pack truck. Trouble starting engine. Drive 10 feet from camp on muddy trail, skid, nose into boulder. Rear wheels spin. No four-wheel drive. No tire chains. Stuck. Rebuild camp. All wood wet. Hunker around Coleman stove. Things have to get better. Feast on bacon, eggs, soggy biscuits. Long pull at Henry McKenna, then dream in wet sleeping bag. Fourth day. Bear sign around truck. Glad I hadn’t woke up. Might have made mistake and shot bear with .380. Wish I was in Horsethief, watching taxi driver program. Still no interest in mountain man and lion.

Go to stream for coffee water and wash. Bank full, running fast, water chocolate brown. Wash in muddy water and get gallon jug of emergency water from truck. Use sparingly. Going nuts.

Sun peeps through in afternoon. Rain stops, but pickup still stuck. Grab opportunity to shoot the Mama Mia. Staple dry targets from toolbox to big conifer pine. Have W.W. R-P, and Federal factory loads. Load 10 round magazine. Brace against tree now. Squeeze off first round at target. Low/left in 7 ring. Empty case smokestacks. Feed next round into chamber manually. Not on paper. Now shooting low/right 6s. Go through 20 shots, all hand operated. Group is high, right, low, left, 16 inches (diameter of tree).

Forty-eight-round magazine loaded and put in place. Will not feed first round. Note for first time that loading ramp is very steep-about 45 degree-and narrow. Get screwdriver kit from toolbox and dismantle pistol.

Many tool marks inside shiny exterior. Horseshoe rasp, maybe. Springs all piano wire type. Apparently from very small piano. After some difficulty, reassemble and try 48-round magazine again. No dice. Big magazine apparently meant to be handy place to carry ammunition.

Shoot single shot for a while. Groups don’t improve. Curious square holes cut by bullets. Perhaps due to quadrangular rifling in bore. Try all brands of ammunition. Results the same.

See squirrel munching acorn in nearby tree. Very fat. Squirrel out of season, but I get an evil idea. Rations low. Squirrel rolled in biscuit crumbs and fried in bacon drippings would be great morale builder.

Sight seven inches high and left on squirrel with Mama Mia. And miss. Squirrel munches acorn. Hold upper right quadrant or rodent. Does not disturb dining squirrel. Working slide by hand, fire five quick shots. Squirrel looks on with interest. Think of going for .44 Magnum, but don’t believe squirrel tail and ears would make good supper.

Fifth day. Grub low. Biscuits turning green. Hunting squirrels, porcupines, and even bears with .44 Magnum. Mighty hunter in magazine articles; dripping dud in wet forest.

Sixth day. Definitely in deep trouble. Old bones won’t stand up to 40-mile walkout. Wife home from Flower Arrangers Convention in Santa Fe by now. Will find me gone and cats unfed. Will be mildly irritated. Probably throw things. But she will call friends in State Police and Forest Service. They will check out jails, hospitals, then Kelly Canyon, Desert Saloon, El Paso. Then they will settle down to look for me. Shouldn’t be longer than one more day….

Down to dregs of coffee by seventh morning. Broken clouds. Mama Mia WD-fortied and put away. Reading labels on empty hash cans. Stomach growling.

Suddenly hear chopper working way up canyon. Use Coleman fuel. Make smoky fire. Helicopter hovers, lands in mud near pickup. Pilot is Dick Shaw, a State Police friend.

Embarrassing situation. Shaw disgusted. Dismounts from machine, walks toward pot of weak coffee, gets dirty cup, and drinks. Sees I’m cold, wet. Gives me a cigarette.

“How’d you get yourself in this fix, Skeeter?”

Mutter something about big job I had to do-caught by weather. Shaw not at all sympathetic. Says he will radio for four-wheeler with chains and winch to come get me. Will probably cost at least $100. I say okay.

Shaw blasts off. I start breaking camp again. Must go home and face music. Will mail this letter tomorrow.

Might be just as well if this was one gun review that didn’t get printed.

Su amigo,


Allies Soldiering This great Nation & Its People War

Guadalcanal: A Real Hot Potato By Lieutenant Colonel Merrill L. Bartlett, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)

Guadalcanal: A Real Hot Potato | Proceedings - November 2007 Vol.  133/11/1,257

Captain Dickson, adjutant of the 5th Marines at Guadalcanal, painted this scene of night combat along Bloody Ridge in September 1942. More hard fighting was to come.

A perceived lack of Navy support for Marines on Guadalcanal led one Marine officer to have an irreverent medal cast in commemoration of the event. But did the Navy really abandon the Marines?

By late November 1942, the tide had turned for American forces on Guadalcanal. If Marine and Navy aircraft were not exerting air superiority, they at least had air parity. Navy ships were interrupting Japanese attempts to land additional forces ashore, and Soldiers and Leathernecks had begun arriving to reinforce the gaunt malaria-ridden Marines already there.

Lieutenant Colonel Merrill B. Twining, the operations officer of the 1st Marine Division, resolved to commemorate the Leathernecks’ participation in the ill-conceived and poorly supported naval campaign. He thought an appropriate medal was required and turned to Captain Donald L. Dickson, a talented artist serving as the adjutant of the 5th Marines.

Who above Twining in the chain of command approved the medal, and its obvious criticism of the senior Navy officers involved in Operation Watchtower, is unknown. But when the division redeployed to Australia in early 1943, a local metal craftsman was hired to cast it.

The image on the front shows a hand and the sleeve of an admiral—obviously Vice Admiral Robert J. Ghormley, Commander, South Pacific, or Vice Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher, commander of the invasion force—dropping a hot potato into the arms of a Marine. The inscription on the front reads simply Faciat Georgius (Let George Do It).

Faciat Georgius - Wikipedia

Faciat Georgius - Wikipedia

The reverse of the medal shows a Japanese soldier with his breeches pulled down and the inscription “In fond memories of the happy days spent from Aug. 7th 1942 to Jan. 5th 1943. U.S.M.C.” Ribbons for the medal were fashioned from the herringbone twill of Marine field uniforms, supposedly washed in the fetid waters of the Lunga River on Guadalcanal.

The appearance of the medal illustrated the frustration Marines felt for what they saw as a lack of Navy support in the Guadalcanal campaign.

With the fresh taste of victory in earlier encounters at the Coral Sea and Midway, naval leaders pressed to continue the initiative in the Pacific. Vice Admiral Chester A. Nimitz, Commander, Pacific Fleet, proposed sending a Marine Raider battalion to destroy a Japanese seaplane base located on Tulagi in the Solomon Islands. But in Washington, Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Ernest J. King proposed a much larger operation, arguing successfully with the other members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and then the President, to maintain momentum in the Pacific.

Intelligence reports of an enemy airstrip under construction on Guadalcanal reinforced King’s argument that further Japanese threats in the region be stymied. Thus, Operation Watchtower came into being.

The 1st Marine Division began to arrive in New Zealand in June 1942. Its commander, Major General Archer A. Vandegrift, had been told by Commandant of the Marine Corps Lieutenant General Thomas Holcomb not to anticipate any combat operations before 1943. In his first conference with Ghormley on 26 June, a dismayed Vandegrift learned of Operation Watchtower with a proposed D-day of 1 August. He reminded Ghormley that his division was grossly understrength. Undeterred, Ghormley ordered it reinforced with the 2d Marines, 1st Raider Battalion, 1st Parachute Battalion, and the 3d Defense Battalion, which increased Vandegrift’s strength to approximately 19,000 men. The Joint Chiefs approved changing D-day to 7 August; reports of the airfield on Guadalcanal prevented further delay of the invasion.

Because Ghormley’s headquarters were in Noumea, on New Caledonia, some distance from the Solomons, he invested command of the expeditionary force with Fletcher. It consisted of the carrier force (3 carriers, 1 battleship, 6 cruisers, 16 destroyers, and 3 oilers) and Rear Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner’s amphibious force, supported by 5 cruisers and 9 destroyers. Accurate maps of the amphibious objective area (AOA) never appeared, even long after the invasion began, and estimates of Japanese ground forces on Guadalcanal and nearby Tulagi remained uncertain. Later, it was determined that no more than 3,457 were stationed in the Guadalcanal-Tulagi area. Aerial photographs revealed the construction of the airfield and no extensive defenses on Guadalcanal’s north shore.

To the Solomons

The forces rendezvoused in the Fijis on 26 July, conducted a disappointing rehearsal, and steamed toward the Solomons three days later. B-17 bombers flying from the New Hebrides began striking targets on Guadalcanal and Tulagi on the last day of July. Reflecting on the exigency precipitating the operation, King provided a droll comment that proved to be the understatement of the entire operation: “Because of the urgency of seizing and occupying Guadalcanal, planning was not up to its usual thorough standard.”

Few of the Navy commanders gave serious thought to the resupply and support for the Marines about to be dumped onto a hostile shore. Most disconcerting was Fletcher’s decision to depart the amphibious objective area after just 48 hours; reluctantly, he agreed to keep his precious carriers in the AOA for a third day, but Vandegrift argued for at least four days.

The commander of the invasion force had grown fearful of exposure to enemy bombers. Without the support of Fletcher’s aircraft, Turner decided to withdraw the ships of the amphibious force whether unloaded or not. When Fletcher left the AOA, Turner followed with ships still half full; they hauled away part of one infantry regiment along with most of the supplies and equipment necessary to sustain the division in combat ashore for a minimum of 30 days.

Meanwhile, senior Japanese officers in Rabaul and as far away as Imperial General Headquarters in Tokyo remained convinced that the amphibious invasion consisted of nothing more than a reconnaissance in force. By nightfall on D-Day, Vandegrift had more than 11,000 troops ashore. By then, the Marines had overrun the Japanese airfield and advanced to the banks of the Lunga River. The unit of the Special Landing Force, an estimated 430 Japanese Marines, had fled inland with 1,000 Korean laborers when the preassault bombardment began.

But on nearby Tulagi, the Leathernecks found that the Japanese Marines intended to fight a vicious, no-surrender battle. After two days of ferocious combat, the 1st Raider Battalion and 2/5 had maneuvered to outflank and overrun pockets of die-hard defenders. Earlier, strikes by carrier-based aircraft destroyed the seaplane base that had provided the stimulus for the operation.

In response to the audacious incursion, Japanese headquarters in Rabaul opted for the quick fix of air power. On the morning of D-day, an Australian coastwatcher reported a sizeable formation of enemy bombers. Flying from Fletcher’s carriers, positioned 100 miles south of Guadalcanal, fighters destroyed or chased away the Japanese planes before any of them could disrupt the landing. Inexplicably, enemy pilots focused on the amphibious ships and ignored the beaches crammed with troops and supplies. But on the evening of 8 August, an enemy naval force responded to the American invasion with a stinging response.

In the Battle of Savo Island, the Japanese shattered the covering force with no casualties to themselves; four cruisers went to the bottom, and another lost her bow. Fortunately for the Marines ashore, the Japanese naval force departed without attempting to disrupt the landing further. Nonetheless, the victory caused celebrating superiors in Tokyo to allow the event to overshadow the importance of the amphibious operation. A Japanese journalist proclaimed euphemistically that “the Marines in the Solomons were like summer insects which have dropped into the fire by themselves.”

The Ichiki Detachment Lands

Senior officers in Rabaul and Tokyo concluded that the Japanese Army should drive the Marines from Guadalcanal and ordered the 17th Army to undertake the mission. For this assault force, its commander chose a crack regiment commanded by a notorious firebrand. Colonel Ichiki Kiyonao had once scoffed that it only required swords and sabers to defeat the Americans. On the evening of 18 August 1942, the Ichiki Detachment landed at Taivu Point just 22 miles east of the Marine perimeter; the remainder of the 35th Infantry Brigade followed. The Japanese force deployed ashore with characteristic smugness for the fighting ability of their occidental foe: “Westerners—being very haughty, effeminate, and cowardly—intensely dislike fighting in the rain or mist or in the dark,” snarled one strategist.

Ghormley had warned both Nimitz and King that the Japanese might recapture Guadalcanal unless more carrier support and troop reinforcements were forthcoming. Apparently, his pessimism failed to reach the Oval Office. On 19 August, President Franklin D. Roosevelt informed Soviet leader Josef Stalin that, “We have gained, I believe, a toe-hold in the Southwest Pacific from where the Japanese will find it very difficult to dislodge us.” Closer to the scene, senior officers remained less sanguine. After returning from the South Pacific, an Army Air Forces officer advised Lieutenant General Henry H. “Hap” Arnold that “there’s another Bataan coming and so you’d better get ready for it.”

Meanwhile, on 20 August Vandegrift greeted the arrival of Marine Air Group 23’s two squadrons at Henderson Field: 19 Grumman F4F-4 Wildcat fighters and 12 Douglas SBD-3 Dauntless dive-bombers. Two days later, five Army Bell P-400 Airacobras flew in to add to the lethality of air assets positioned on Guadalcanal. One grizzled observer was overheard to mutter, “Now let the bastards come!” And they did, with a vengeance.

During the night of 20-21 August, Ichiki’s troops stormed the Marines’ lines in a screaming, frenzied display of the “spiritual strength” that they had been assured would sweep aside their occidental enemy. As the Japanese charged across a sand bar astride the Ilu, the Leathernecks cut them down. Trapped between two Marine battalions and the sea, Ichiki burned the regimental colors after soaking them in his blood and then committed sepuku. Tanks rolled over the bodies, grinding them into their treads; Crocodiles fed on the dead that clogged the river.

Reflecting on the defeat, a senior Japanese officer concluded that the attack was shear folly. “This tragedy should have taught us the hopelessness of bamboo spear tactics,” he remarked to a confidant. More than 800 Sons of Nippon died in the abortive attempt to breach the Marines’ lines, while the defenders suffered only 44 killed and another 71 wounded. Undeterred, the 17th Army headquarters in Rabaul planned another ground assault.

Meanwhile, the remainder of Major General Kawaguchi Kiyotake’s 35th Infantry Brigade had landed. Incredibly, the Japanese continued to believe that no more than 2,000 Marines were ashore with significant air assets supporting them. As plans for an assault on 13 September unfolded, Kawaguchi voiced his misgivings: “Wouldn’t you think that the destruction of the Ichiki Detachment would be a lesson to us? [Imperial General Headquarters] belittles the enemy on gadarukanaru [starvation island, or Guadalcanal] and declares that once we land successfully, the Marines will surrender.”

Edson Holds

A captured map revealed that the Japanese intended to attack across the ridge separating the jungle from the airstrip and then burst onto the Lunga Plain only a mile from Henderson Field. Vandegrift predicted the main point of attack and positioned a combined force of raiders and paratroopers commanded by Colonel Merritt A. “Red Mike” Edson to block it.

Enemy bombers and artillery pummeled the ridge as a prelude to the ground assault. Enemy ships fired flares over the area, and naval gunfire added to the cacophony. The first blow came during the night of 12-13 September. In desperate hand-to-hand combat, Edson’s force held the ridge as the Japanese made two more attempts to overrun it.

The next night, two of Kawaguchi’s battalions, led by sword-wielding officers shouting “Totsugeki [Charge]” attempted to breach the Leatherneck lines in 12 separate attacks. At first light, the defenders—a total of 840 Marines—counted more than 600 Japanese bodies strewn across the landscape. The survivors of Kawaguchi’s force retreated to the west, dropping the most seriously wounded of their comrades to die along the jungle trails.

Meanwhile, Japanese ships began disgorging the Sendai Division on 7 October without hindrance from Navy ships. On 13-14 October, bomber strikes preceded an intense artillery and naval gunfire bombardment of Henderson Field; the shelling left the vital airstrip in shambles and destroyed most of the facility’s aviation fuel. Vandegrift described his predicament in sober terms to Ghormley and Turner: While his force exceeded that of the enemy, intelligence estimates indicated more than 15,000 Japanese troops assembling in the hills.

In Need of Navy Support

More than half of Vandegrift’s men were in no condition to undertake a protracted land campaign because of malaria. He repeated the requirement for the Navy to control the sea lanes offshore to prevent further Japanese reinforcement and naval gunfire bombardment. He also stressed the need for an increase in his troop strength with the addition of the remainder of the Americal Division from New Caledonia, along with the 2d Marines and 8th Marines from the 2d Marine Division.

As news of the thousands of Japanese pouring ashore spread, a senior Marine officer noted that “the Japs had the run of the waters” and added scornfully, “Where is the Navy, everyone wants to know?” Another disappointed observer noted that “they are landing faster than we can kill ’em.”

After the Sendai Division had massed in the hills east of the ridge bordering the Marine lines, it began to deploy toward Henderson Field. The dense jungle foliage over the 15-mile trek concealed the force, which was buoyed with its commander’s exhortation: “The forthcoming attack on Guadalcanal, which is under the focus of the entire world, is the decisive campaign on which the fate of the Japanese Empire depends.”

Meanwhile, Nimitz had replaced the overcautious Ghormley with the determined and aggressive Vice Admiral William F. Halsey. During the previous ten weeks of the campaign, neither Ghormley nor his chief of staff had bothered to even visit Guadalcanal; Halsey flew there just four days after assuming command. Vandegrift told Halsey that he had no intention of evacuating Guadalcanal but required more active support; Halsey promised Vandegrift “everything I’ve got.”

In Washington, optimism in the South Pacific was matched with guarded pessimism. When a journalist asked Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox, “Do you think we can hold Guadalcanal?” he received a waffling response that could hardly encourage any Marine there: “I will not make any prediction, but every man will give a good accounting of himself. There is a good, stiff fight going on—everybody hopes we can hold out.”

In late October, the Sendai Division attempted to overrun Leatherneck positions but failed. Correctly predicting that the Japanese would again attempt to take what had become “Bloody Ridge,” Vandegrift positioned the 7th Marines and the 164th Infantry to hold the vital terrain. The defenders blunted the enemy attack, and the remnants of the Sendai Division fled into the jungle; another 3,500 enemy troops were killed.

Unknown to the Japanese, Vandegrift’s situation had improved considerably by then. An additional airstrip, “Fighter One,” had been completed by the 6th SeaBee Battalion; the 7th Marines had redeployed from Samoa, and the 2d and 8th Marines from the 2d Marine Division were ashore; the first elements of the Americal Division had redeployed from New Caledonia; and both fighters and torpedo aircraft from carriers had begun to reinforce Leatherneck aviation units at Henderson Field.

Once again, Turner took his “field marshal’s baton” out of his briefcase. The amphibious task force commander opined that the 7th Marines should be positioned in little groups all over Guadalcanal’s coast. Vandegrift simply waived that preposterous notion aside, but then Turner suggested that additional raider battalions could be formed out of the 7th and 8th Marines, along with any “spare” Marines.

Fortunately, Nimitz visited Guadalcanal at about that time and, after Vandegrift spoke to him, put Turner on a short leash. By then, Vandegrift and his staff had grown increasingly impatient. His operations officer even interrupted a visiting admiral who started to say, “What you need . . .” by exclaiming, “What we need is an end to arbitrary decisions by people who don’t know what they’re doing!”

In Hawaii and Washington, the war in the Solomons grew increasingly worrisome. A sharp increase in Navy losses fueled the trepidation; severe damage to a carrier and a battleship left only one carrier and a single battleship on station to support the Marines on Guadalcanal. On 9 November, the first elements of the 38th (Hiroshima) Division landed to reinforce the dwindling number of Japanese on the island.

When its remaining 12,000 men and ten tons of supplies sailed from Shortland Island (just south of Bougainville in the Solomons), the U.S. Navy’s surface forces rose up to smash the reinforcement effort. On 13 and 13-14 November, Navy vessels turned back efforts by Japanese warships to bombard Guadalcanal prior to landing the Hiroshima Division. On the 14th, Navy and Marine aircraft sank seven transports packed with division troops. Only four transports managed to offload.

Happy Thanksgiving

By late November, enemy forces in the region had been defeated or isolated. Halsey brought welcome gifts to the haggard, malaria-ridden, and exhausted Marines on Thanksgiving Day: a turkey dinner with cranberry sauce, and orders to redeploy from Guadalcanal to Australia. As the battle-weary Leathernecks ate their holiday meal, few if any knew or even cared that more than 100 Japanese soldiers died of starvation each day in the jungles of Guadalcanal.

In late December, Imperial General Headquarters concluded that the cost to re-take Guadalcanal had become too great. By that time, all of the elements of the Americal Division were ashore. The 25th Infantry Division and the headquarters of the 2d Marine Division had arrived along with the 6th Marines to constitute XIV Corps.

More than 23,000 Japanese died attempting to eject the Marines from the southern Solomons. Each side lost 24 ships. Leatherneck casualties numbered 1,052 killed, 2,799 wounded, and 8,580 cases of malaria. In more than six months of aerial combat, 94 Marine pilots lost their lives, but they earned an impressive kill ratio of 3:1 against the Japanese pilots.

The Marines at Guadalcanal destroyed the myth of the Japanese as infallible jungle fighters. Emperor Hirohito’s royal decree of 31 December 1943, ordering no further attempts to retake Guadalcanal, foreshadowed the end of the war in the Pacific with an American victory. Japan had entered a war of attrition on Guadalcanal that it could not win.

By the time Imperial General Headquarters concluded that its military and naval forces could not eject the Americans from Guadalcanal, their fruitless efforts had sufficiently eroded Japanese strengths such that General Douglas MacArthur’s campaign to recapture the Philippines and Nimitz’ drive through the Central Pacific could not be stopped.

As one distinguished historian of the Japanese Navy, Paul S. Dull, noted, “At first by accident, later by pride, and then finally in desperation, Guadalcanal became the place the Japanese wanted at all costs to hold.” A Japanese admiral who commanded a surface force in the Solomons reflected, “There is no doubt that Japan’s doom [in the Pacific War] was Guadalcanal.”

The Leathernecks succeeded in spite of lackluster support from Washington and senior Navy commanders on the scene. Years later, the reflections of Merrill Twining (the brains behind the George Medal) placed the epic confrontation in perspective: “You just can’t conceive of the conditions under which that operation came off—the greatest luck, the unbelievable ineptness of the Japanese, everything in the world conspired to make it succeed at all.

All Available Resources

For a generation, Marine veterans of the campaign to seize Guadalcanal-Tulagi remained embittered by the seeming lack of Navy support. Hence the inspiration behind the irreverent commemorative medal. A balanced assessment of the Navy’s support for Operation Watchtower, however, suggests that it deployed all available resources. After the battles of the Coral Sea and Midway, the Navy could not afford the loss of another aircraft carrier. The disaster at Pearl Harbor left few ships available to control the waters off Guadalcanal. In any event, the Navy was fighting a two-ocean war. Planners in Washington demanded more from the Bluejackets and Leathernecks in Operation Watchtower than could be supported with the meager assets available.

Lieutenant Colonel Bartlett is a frequent contributor to Naval Institute publications. He is coauthor with Jack Sweetman of the new edition of the upcoming Naval Institute Press book, Leathernecks: An Illustrated History of the U.S. Marine Corps

All About Guns Soldiering This great Nation & Its People War

27 March 1814: The Creek War Battle Of Horseshoe Bend (Alabama) by Jim Sellers

On 27 March 1814, a force of 2700 United States soldiers, Tennessee militiamen, Cherokee cavalry, and one hundred “friendly” Creek Indians, all led by General Andrew Jackson,

defeated the Red Stick faction of the Creek Nation in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend.

Jackson’s victory ended the Creek War (1813–1814) and thrust him into national prominence. It also marked the last serious armed resistance of southeastern Indians against the United States.

The battle’s name came from a loop in the Tallapoosa River in Alabama.

The Red Sticks, a segment of Creeks who wished to return to traditional social and religious practices, built a fort across the base of the bend in the stream.

During 1813, the Red Sticks suffered a series of setbacks at the hands of the American militia and regular troops.

The defenses on the Tallapoosa initially proved successful, allowing the Creeks to repel Jackson’s first attack on 21 January 1814.

However, harsh winter weather, food shortages, and a dearth of firearms made the Indians’ situation precarious by early Spring. Over 1,000 Creek warriors, along with 350 women and children, were inside the fort, hoping to hold off the American and Indian force of over 2,700 strong.

At the start of the fight, General Jackson’s Tennessee militia and regular army troops built a barricade across the base of the peninsula. Then Jackson opened fire on the fort with two cannons.

However, Andrew Jackson hesitated to order a frontal assault on such a strong position. The Cherokees and Euro-American militia troops took up positions on the opposite bank of the river, across from the undefended side of the Red Sticks’ camp.

During the artillery bombardment, some Cherokee warriors swam the river and stole the Red Sticks’ canoes. They then used the craft to bring more Cherokees and militiamen over to the Creeks’ camp to engage the Red Sticks.

When Jackson heard the sound of gunfire from inside the fort, he ordered his men to charge the Creeks’ defensive works. The assault worked; the Euro-Americans and the Cherokees completely defeated the Red Sticks, killing nearly 600 Creek warriors.

In addition, approximately 250 Red Sticks drowned in the Tallapoosa trying to escape. The losses suffered by the Creeks at Horseshoe Bend made it the single bloodiest day in the history of Native American warfare.

The remnants of the Red Sticks, under the leadership of Red Eagle,

surrendered soon afterward. Andrew Jackson negotiated the Treaty of Fort Jackson on 9 August 1814 without Federal Authorization.

Its terms required the Creek Indians to give up half of their territory.

Ironically, most of the ceded land came from the Upper Creek Towns, the same people who fought alomgsidethe Euro-Americans at Horseshoe Bend.

When I was in the eighth grade, our Boy Scout troop hiked the 22-mile Horseshoe Bend Trail – thirteen miles on Saturday and nine miles on Sunday – and saw most of the park after the hike was completed. This part of Alabama history was always very interesting to me. In the ninth grade, our history class entailed three-six-week periods of Alabama History, and three six-week periods of Civics and Government.

I just wish I had the Internet back in them days.

SOURCES: ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ;

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Chesty Puller The Marines Marine Rough Draft

This great Nation & Its People War

Most Decorated Marine of His Time-Major General Smedley Butler-Two Medals of Honor