Today marks the 60th anniversary of the day U. As part of the anniversary celebration, McConnell's e-book about the conflict, " Our Survival was Open to the Gravest Doubts ," will be available for the first time today online. The memory of the battle is still vivid in McConnell's mind. He recalls the bond among his fellow soldiers, the constant barrage of shells and gunfire, and the unsanitary conditions that saw him sharing rusty razors with other soldiers, defecating in sewage ditches, and never showering or brushing his teeth.
The food supply also ran out and the Marines were forced to capture wild boars and roast them over covered fires so the enemy could not detect the smoke and flames. The group of Marines landed on Guadalcanal's western side on Aug. Their objective was to capture a small grassy knoll overlooking the runway.
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The knoll, a day's trek from the drop-off point, turned out to be a small mountain covered with Japanese troops. Once the mountain was secured, the Marines turned toward the runway, which proved to be an easier target after Japanese troops had fled and left it abandoned. He met the challenge head on, focusing his attention on obtaining every possible recruit he could get from Parris Island. He was selecting the best to flesh out his division staff. The rest would be passed along to his regimental commanders for their picks. He had met some of the youngsters at inspections around the division.
He had asked one young marine why he had joined. These men wanted some revenge for the cowardly attack on Pearl Harbor. He would use them to train the new marines as quickly as possible. He had old sergeants who had fought in France. He found privates who had spent more time in the brig than out. He saw that they were promoted and put in charge of a squad of new marines. He smiled as he thought about these men.
They were heavy drinkers and inveterate gamblers, but they were experienced jungle fighters, cutting their teeth on the jungles of Nicaragua. They knew how to stay alive in the jungle and Vandegrift knew before long they would be up to their asses in the jungles of the South Pacific. He frowned, thinking of all the requests that had been rejected for updated weapons. Now it was too late. Holcomb had indicated the Division would be relocated almost immediately.
They were heading for New Zealand, somewhere outside Wellington. He looked at his watch. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Commandant at his residence at headquarters Eighth and I. He cleared his throat. Holcomb tried to calm him down.
Horror and Heroism: Hampton resident recalls Guadalcanal on 60th anniversary
Let me call Admiral Kelly at War Plans and set something up. Goodbye for now, sir. Admiral Kelly Turner headed up War Plans.
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- The Grasy Knolll, a Poem about Guadalcanal by Jerry McDonnell.
He was a lean and spry fifty seven years old. He always held his body rigid. His staff said he had a broomstick up his ass. He had eagle eyes that riveted on who ever he was addressing.
Excerpt from my book “Letters From the Dead—Guadalcanal”
He would look over the top of his wire rims and stare down anyone who attempted to gain control of a discussion. He was a bitter, mean spirited man, and had an acid tongue when he felt the need. He had spent his early navy years on surface ships, and then had been a navy aviator. Turner was sitting at his desk. He took a sip of coffee and grimaced, raising his dark brows. His orderly was good at a lot of things, but making coffee was not necessarily one of them. Turner called him in and chewed him out about the coffee. It is a far different matter attempting to establish advanced bases in the Solomons than in the islands heretofore occupied.
It is my opinion that the navy cannot mount a successful offensive at this time. I implore you to appoint an aggressive Admiral to take charge of the impending offensive in the South Pacific immediately, if we are to have any possibility of success. We need to gather a large force of men experienced at amphibious operations. But it seemed that with each man who fell there Our assault inched forward in gain. At last we came into a clearing That stretched out for several miles The strain of the jungle was succored And our faces were wreathed in smiles.
But our joy was soon turned to sadness And we wished for the jungle again, 'Cause the heat of the sun was oppressive And flesh-eating ant bites brought pain.
The Grasy Knolll, a Poem about Guadalcanal by Jerry McDonnell | Lane Memorial Library
The canteens we carried were emptied As men tried to slacken their thirst. It looked like the heat would soon kill us If the ants didn't do the job first. The grass in the clearing was very tall With blades like razor-edged knives That cut and slashed our bodies and clothes And further imperiled our lives.
Our pack straps cut deep in our shoulders From the weight of the gear stowed inside. But with bodies now aching and retching We forged on, driven purely by pride. We had made our landing at daybreak Planning to arrive at our goal by noon. It was now fast approaching nightfall And we hoped for some light from the moon. We moved on, to get out of the clearing 'Ere darkness obscured our view And plodded on back into the jungle Thankful the clearing was through.
The dense underbrush of the jungle Which earlier had near spelled our end, Embraced us with all-'round protection And now became a good friend.
We fought back away from the beaches Into jungle that steamed from the heat. And now our troops were determined That they weren't about to be beat. The enemy men were soon routed And our forces were gaining control. But much to our later discomfort They drew back to the big "Grassy Knoll. We plodded our way through the jungle Losing two steps for each one we'd gain.
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Our bodies and clothing were sweat-drenched As though we'd been soaked in the rain. The effects of the day were now showing That though tired, we were nervous with fear And some men were firing at random At each sound they happened to hear. With this each man grew more cautious And struggled to stay awake, Lest he accidentally make noises And get himself shot by mistake. The night seemed long and endless And we gratefully greeted the dawn. But the sleepless night had taken its toll And our bodies were tired and drawn. We ate up the last of our rations Before we were forced to move on.
We felt like a legion of doomed men - All our water and food were gone.