Service with the Sixth Defense Battalion on Midway
Arrival on Midway
When I arrived on Midway in late December 1941 or early January 1942, I had been in the Marine Corps for six months. Like others, I was green, untested, cocky, and so mission oriented, I wondered why we needed so many of us (56 Officers/enlisted) to defeat the Japanese. The day we disembarked onto Sand
Island, we were shelled by a submarine. The projectiles did not land near us on the dock, confirming to us "boots", those Japanese couldn't hit a barn wall if they were inside the barn. I was to learn later how foolish that statement was.
My first impression of Midway was: What a beautiful place, just birds, white coral sand, surf, some trees and sunlight. Six months ago, I left home Omaha, NE, where my parents were having a difficult time due to the lingering 1930s Depression. This seemed to be a luxury assignment.
Ed Fox's machine-gun (MG) bunker was dug almost to the water line on the south-eastern tip of Sand Island. If the Japanese had invaded Midway, as they planned to, his MG bunker would have been directly in the path of their assault waves and supporting off-shore bombardment. The makeshift mines, packed with dynamite and nails are shown in red. The Marine machine-gun bunkers are shown in green. Each bunker was separated by 200 yards from adjoining bunkers on either side.
Preparing to "repel boarders"
We practiced and practiced on how best to repel an invading force. At the same time, we spent day and into the evening constructing barbed wire lines with concertina wire in front and behind the barbed wire line. Some of us were selected (ha!) to work in the surf at low tide to lay again more wire barriers. Sun screen was an unknown word, and the "Man-O-War" took their toll - me included. We also constructed demolition devices. These were wooden boxes about two feet square packed with nails/spikes, and many pounds of dynamite with an impact detonator located on the island side of the mine. One could fire his weapon, and strike the bull painted on the box to detonate the device. In theory, this was a good morale booster for us, but as the days went on and the heat played havoc with the compound of the dynamite, we learned that it was better not to walk between the device and the surf as the "Gooneys" (albatrosses) often would crash land and strike one of these now motion-sensitive mines.
With only one year in the Corps, including six months on Midway, I was not in any position to know what lay ahead. We knew of and prepared for an attack, but us lowly "grunts" had such a swaggering attitude (as most "boots" have) we were more concerned about our beer ration at the time. Call it blind, dumb bravado if you will, we were inexperienced at warfare. The only times we had come under fire since Pearl was when Japanese submarines would surface at dusk and fire a few rounds. They were on the horizon. Not one of those rounds ever came close to our bunker.
Many of us were cross-trained on most every weapon on the island, including the four tanks. Not that we would be proficient on these weapons, but we could operate the tank and load the 7-inch naval guns, the 3-inch anti-aircraft (AA) guns, the 40 mm Bofors AA dual mounts, and the .50 Browning machine-guns. The 40 mm AA guns could also be depressed for use against an amphibious landing.
As for secondary positions inland, if there were any, my team was not informed. Fall back and retreat was not in our training manual. Nor did we train for such an event. Deny the enemy the ground in front of you was our order for the battle.
A machine-gun bunker "with view" on the beach at Sand Island
My machine-gun (MG) bunker was dug almost to the water line on the south-eastern tip of Sand Island. If the Japanese had invaded Midway, as they planned to, my MG bunker would have been directly in the path of their assault waves.
During high tides it became kinda moist inside the bunker. We had a coral sand deck. Shoes and our gear were never stored on the deck. The bulkhead (or wall) was lined with sandbags, I believe the overhead was of oak, similar to railroad ties. On the exterior was waterproof covering, and then a neat layer of sandbags covered with some eight to nine feet of coral sand. Foliage was transplanted on the top, front and rear of the gun position. The front and rear of this mound was also heaped with coral sand sloping off some twenty feet or more. The entrance from the rear was enter, go six feet, turn, go six feet, and turn once more to enter the bunker. There was the appearance of a sea wall or dike from one MG position to the next, though no connection (tunnel) was even thought of.
Inside, the bunker had two rooms. One room was very small with low overhead. It had the two-tiered double bunks, an equally small table, four ammo boxes for chairs, and one single light bulb of very low wattage. The second room housed the .30 caliber Browning water-cooled 1917 model machine-gun. I think this room was about six foot squared.
The MG was mounted on a tripod that was sandbagged on a ledge. We had an excellent view of the beach, the barbed wire, and reef through the port. Picture a funnel flattened, that is what the port looked like. We could traverse the MG left about 30 degrees from center, and likewise to the right. We had our gun lined up on the barbed wire, the theory being that the enemy would gang up on the wire and you would have your target. There were similar barbed wire lines to right and left of our bunker, but those lines were for the MG bunkers on our right and left to cover. Those bunkers were located 200 yards away to our right and left. The overall plan was that the field of fire of each MG would overlap the adjacent gun - left or right. I have shown in the sketch above the location of two of our MG bunkers guarding the beach at Midway; how the barbed wire defenses were positioned; the makeshift mines; and the respective fields of fire of two adjoining MGs.
At the rear of the MG bunker we had a round, sandbagged, five-foot deep hole with a mono mount for a .30 BAR directly in the center. The "BAR" or Browning Automatic Rifle is a clip feed 20 round shoulder or bi-pod mount weapon. This was our secondary weapon, and my selection for a personal weapon plus a .45 caliber pistol. This position was intended for use against aircraft. We manned it once on 4 June, after the Japanese air attack.
Communication was unsatisfactory. We were wired up in series from one bunker to the next. If the line went dead for our EE8 crank-up field phones, one of us would walk to the position that we could not converse with, left or right, to find the problem, repair it, and return.
We had sound power phones also. What a toy that was! Two lines to the next position; one line hooked up to your phone, the other grounded to an area that you kept damp. Fresh water at our position was too valuable to waste pouring on the ground. We needed that water for the water-cooled MG. "Field expedience" took care of the damp ground.
When not on alert, we ate in the mess hall, got fresh showers, clean clothes, and clean heads. On alert, hot food would be brought near your position. On "red alert", our famous C-rations would have to do.
Our bunker was equipped with "all modern conveniences"
A slit trench was the norm for "calls of nature", but sometimes we would scrounge wood from the night stores and build our own outhouse. The trouble with the outhouse was keeping it hid. After Pearl Harbor, Japanese submarines had a nasty habit of surfacing at twilight off the southern coast of Sand Island, and firing off several quick rounds at the island before crash-diving. Their aim wasn't good, but we weren't going to give the Japanese our outhouse for a target. Needless to say, no Marine was going to be caught in a makeshift outhouse on the beach while under fire from off shore. We made one that collapsed until it was needed. We could pull it up with rope, secure the sides and door, and "do your thing". Then we undo the sides, lower it to the ground, and cover it back up with camouflage netting.
We had a searchlight battery close to our MG bunker. It was a dangerous companion when under fire from the sea. A Japanese submarine surfaced off the southern coast of Sand Island on 8 February 1942, and began firing at the island. Marine 5-inch Battery A began returning fire, and our nearby searchlight battery lit up to probe for the submarine. A searchlight draws enemy fire like a moth to candlelight. We ran like hell for cover!
Beach patrols
Beach patrols, one hour before sunset to one hour after sunrise was SOP. For a time walking the "beach", listening to the surf, and the ever present din of the birds was enjoyable. But that soon tired. The sand was not packed as one would think. The wave-washed beach was several yards away where nice packed sand was located. We walked in loose deep coral sand, sinking at each step, and often filling your ankle high boots. When darkness fell, I would often remove my shoe laces so I could readily empty the boot. Sometimes I would walk bare footed (I had better not let the OD* see me in such out-of-uniform state). I would bury my feet into the sand whenever he and the Sarg of the Guard inspected. Whether they knew and never said anything I'll never know. I was never challenged about my lack of shoes.
* Officer of the Day
As the south-eastern tip of Sand Island was close to the reef, it was deemed the point the enemy might select to infiltrate for reconnaissance. Because of this potential, my area of patrol, and the area on each flank, was inspected at night often, even two to four times; mainly to see if we grunts were paying attention to our Special Orders. I had a fear that some over eager OD might surprise me by approaching from my rear, let alone the enemy. The OD I worried about. The enemy, well, one could shoot his butt! I devised a tactic that would alert me somewhat, if one did try to cross my path or approach from my rear. It wasn't foolproof but it worked for me.
I would gather a branch of foliage and drag it behind me as I walked my "beat". On my return, I would be able to see tracks left on the beach had the OD come down to see if I was doing what I was supposed to do. I often would find where he would lay hidden in the inland shrubbery then walk down to my patrol area. Sometimes I would challenge him as he would approach. One other time I detected him hidden, and I was able to get behind him, sneak up on him, and stick the muzzle of my BAR against his butt while saying in a loud voice, "Who goes there"? I almost got court martial over that. But, you know what, that officer never challenged my ability again.
I shoot a nocturnal intruder
Near the end of May 1942, we were pretty sure the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) had us in their sights for an invasion. Instead of four hours on duty at the beach patrols, we spent two on and four off. The thinking was that one would be more alert with just two hours on duty. It worked. Morale was better, and we really were able to do a better job at keeping an eye peeled for whatever.
During one of these assignments, I was on my usual strolls during one helluva storm; thick cloud cover, strong winds, heavy rain, and high, roaring surf. Black would not describe the visibility that night. But as I trudged along trying to keep my weapon dry under my poncho which was acting like a sail, I noticed a dark object in the surf. This unidentified object was approaching the beach and directly to my front. All I could ID was, it was black, and crawling slow and man-size toward my position. My adrenaline kicked in as I got into a prone position, brought my BAR up, and sighted in on my crawling subject. I am sure all this took seconds but what seemed like a long time to me. The enemy had arrived and here we go. I don't even remember slipping the safety off, but my clip held 20 rounds. I let go three rounds, striking the subject, and waited and waited and waited. Not a movement on the beach anywhere. The island sirens sounded off, and the entire island went into "Condition Red".
I did not move. I could hear my buddies calling my name, but how many were there in the surf I did not know. For several minutes I lay still and quiet. I finally observed my friends approaching in strength, and then called out that I had shot somebody or thing in the surf. I found out later that the entire ring of the island patrols were tripled because of my incident.
Sunrise revealed that I had shot a seal, striking it with two rounds. I fired three, and my First Sergeant made me pay one dollar to the slush fund for wasting one round. Needless to say, I did receive a pat on the back from my CO and that officer I had scared so bad gave me a case of beer. The side effect of the whole thing was I got razzed for sometime - shooting a poor defenseless seal!
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