My husbands great uncle Phil J. Finazzo penned his personal journey from becoming a WWII Seabee to his experiences with war. In part one he discusses his life until the end of boot camp. It wasn’t long after training that he writes about his participation in the Battle of Iwo Jima. His personal account was rewritten several times on loose-leaf lined paper and I was lucky enough to have acquired copies. We are so proud of his service and all the men and women who gave so courageously.
May 23, 1998
IWO JIMA D-DAY
It was not yet light of day on the early morning of “D” day on February 18, 1945. The 133rd battalion gathered on the decks of the ship. The pre-dawn gloom was alive with the roar of gunfire and fiery streaks of tracers, rockets, and shells.
my Eyes were straining to penetrate the darkness as I was trying to see the outline of the island fortress of Iwo Jima.
Breakfast was hurried and there was an orderly confusion of preparations. Packs were assembled and weapons were checked. Combat rations were issued and final orders were passed. Then we waited until the loudspeakers blared, ‘Boat Groups 1,2,3 report to debarkation station 10.’ Those groups were part of our battalion that followed the first assault wave of the Marine’s. Those first companies were hit hard.
We watched the frothing wakes of landing boats as we headed toward the dark grey beach that was nearly 5 miles away. We crowded around the radios listening to men who were already coming in contact with the enemy on shore. The reports were alive with explosions and spurts of flares from flame throwers. Men were broadcasting that they were in the landing zone fifty yards and tanks were up a hundred yards.
Calls were also coming in for Naval gunfire support.
As our boat looked for a landing space there was heavy concentrated mortar and shell fire. As my boat hit the shore there was a lot of shouting that our landing ramp was still up. Our commander realized that the ramp was jammed and directed us over the side of the boat and men began falling. Our craft was being peppered. Near the rear of the boat I climbed over the side and fell into the water. Luckily, the surf was low and I touched the bottom as the water reached my shoulders.
The fact that I couldn’t swim did not enter my mind as I scrambled ashore.
I have no idea how I managed to hold onto my weapon and ammo. The shore line was littered with wrecked tanks and landing boats. It was like running through a curtain of red hot fragments of steal. The shelling was intense when I heard a command to stay put and keep down. As I laid there getting my wind a small jagged piece of shrapnel landed on my sleeve and it was just inches from my face. I felt a hot wisp of steam and I quickly shook it off.
My mouth was so dry I could spit cotton. As I looked around me there was a lot of talking and moving about. I saw a nice guy, Frances Craig, go down to my right. He peered up over the terrace and got shot in the head. As I laid there I realized my pack was gone. We discovered that the battle situation had changed since the first early reports.
After the assault waves had passed, and we crossed the first two terraces of the beach, the enemy started showing its strength.
Every inch of the deep sand and the two airfields were under the high guns on Mount Suribachi. It was no wonder that men, material, and equipment were being hit almost faster than they could land. The rest of our battalion followed until the entire outfit was ashore by four in the afternoon.
The 133rd battalion was in a more precarious position than the Marines on the front lines. Our job was to remain on the beach and take what the enemy had to dish out all while unloading and moving forward the supplies needed to blast the defense back. We needed no reminder to dig in. Digging a foxhole in the volcanic sand was easy but not much protection against mortar and shellfire. During each lull, when the shelling became scattered and random, our work unloading ammunition and howitzers continued until mortar bursts came within a hundred feet.
There was always a chance of someone being caught in the open by the first shell of a barrage.
One such mate, Joe Peck, was hit and could only be identified by his dog tags. D-Day night was one of tense and nervous alertness. Unloading went on in the dark and its memory becomes quite vague to me at this time. The front lines were a matter of yards inland and marked by wrecked equipment. Howitzer batteries on the second terrace broke up enemy counter attacks in the darkness.
Somehow the night finally passed. D plus 1 was a continuation of the first day with longer days to follow. We carried supplies by hand or loaded them on a vehicle going inland. Various details were formed to speed up movement to the necessary areas such as ammo, food, water, fuel, and so on. Bulldozers cleared debris on the beach.
The corpsman worked with evacuation personnel to care for the wounded and dying which was a monumental and dangerous task.
Some of the battalion members went up to the front line and fought beside the Marines until their specialties required them on the beach. I can recall when I was hit. I was on my hands and knees digging when I felt a blow on the side of my head just below my temple. Blood was dripping off my chin and within minutes a corpsman was there to patch me up.
For 26 days the 133rd battalion lived under conditions of intense discomfort, violence, and destruction. We learned how to identify sounds of battle, when to duck, and when to ignore them. Then there was the problem of finding something to eat and time to eat it. There was one highlight. I was on the beach unloading when someone yelled, ‘There goes the flag on Mount Suribachi!’ That sure made me feel good.
Then there was unpleasant memories too. Memories of air raids, of rockets, and rocket motors as big as water heater tanks. And downward there was an overpowering odor of death right below the ridge. This was where the dead were bagged and laid in rows of shallow graves until proper cemeteries could be prepared for final burial.
Certain details evade me as I try and recall my experience during this time. There are times when I look back and I can picture certain events or faces clearly but it is difficult to put a name with it. Seared into my memory though is that first day when we ran to the shore of Iwo Jima. I cannot forget the spatter of small arms and bursting shells. I also had an apparent angel on my shoulder as I managed through shoulder high surf and made it in one piece to shore.
On March 16 the island was declared secure.
Work had already begun at the Battalion camp. Details of men were erecting tents, constructing a gallery, installing generators, and putting up a water plant. These facilities were necessary to make a camp. Finally, it was with great relief, that we could come out of our foxhole homes to the comparative luxury of tents, cots, and hot meals served in a mess hall. Some idle time off gave way to surveying parts of the island and the unbelievable damage and destruction. As we surveyed we were always on the the alert for hidden snipers out of sight.
The caves on the island were too hot to enter and had a strong smell of sulphur. That smell was predominant on the island. As I look back I can remember being on shore patrol with Lepley. Suddenly, from behind a wrecked tank, two guys came into view. We challenged the men and realized that they were scared and trying to hide. We took them to the front line and continued on our post as our pounding hearts began to relax.
As I run my memories in reverse it reminds me of my first feel of the sands of Iwo. It was black and crunchy. Even though we were told to stay put at times during D-Day some guys couldn’t wait. They crawled up over the first of several terraces. Several of the men around me and up ahead were hit. Some made it and some didn’t. Johnny Butts stepped on a mine. Mortars rained down as we tried moving up going from shell hole to shell hole.
I moved ahead leaving behind some who never made it.
If you would like to read part one of Phil J. Finazzo’s Seebea’s Diary please click here!
Ever dream of traveling to Washington DC? Check out my itinerary here.
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