Tag Archives: Iwo Jima

Seventy-Two Years Ago

Iwo Jima: a volcanic island 660 miles south of Tokyo; 2 miles wide by 4 miles long. Today, seventy-two years ago U.S. Marines invaded Iwo Jima after months of naval and air bombardment. The Japanese defenders of the island were dug into bunkers deep within the volcanic rocks. Approximately 70,000 U.S. Marines and 18,000 Japanese soldiers took part in the battle. In thirty-six days of fighting on the island, nearly 7,000 U.S. Marines were killed. Another 20,000 were wounded. Marines captured 216 Japanese soldiers; the rest were killed in action. The island was finally declared secured on March 16, 1945. It was one of the bloodiest battles in Marine Corps history.

As I do every year, I received an email Commander Victor H. Krulak, USN, Chaplains Corps (Ret) who was our battalion chaplain in Second Battalion, Seventh Marines at San Mateo, MCB, Camp Pendleton, CA in the early 70’s. He said:

As is my wont again on this 72nd anniversary of the landing on Iwo Jima, I am sending the remarks of Rabbi Gittelsohn at the dedication of the 5th Division Cemetery at the end of the battle as a reminder of the great cost of this battle that is so much a part of the legacy of the Marine Corps.

S/F, Vic

Rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn at the Dedication of the 5th Marine Division Cemetery on Iwo Jima.

This is perhaps the grimmest, and surely the holiest task we have faced since D-Day. Here, before us lie the bodies of comrades and friends. Men who until yesterday or last week laughed with us, joked with us, trained with us. Men who were on the same ships with us, and went over the sides with us as we prepared to hit the beaches of this island. Men who fought with us and feared with us. Somewhere in this plot of ground there may lie the man who could have discovered the cure for cancer. Under one of these Christian
crosses, or beneath a Jewish Star of David, there may rest now a man who was destined to be a great prophet — to find the way, perhaps, for all to live in plenty, with poverty and hardship for none. Now they lie here silently in this sacred soil, and we gather to
consecrate this earth in their memory.

It is not easy to do so. Some of us have buried our closest friends here. We saw these men killed before our very eyes. Any one of us might have died in their places. Indeed, some of us are alive and breathing at this very moment only because men who lie here
beneath us had the courage and strength to give their lives for ours. To speak in memory of such men as these is not easy. Of them too  an it be said with utter truth: “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here.” It can never forget what they did
here.”

No, our poor power of speech can add nothing to what these men and the other dead who are not here have already done. All that we even hope to do is follow their example. To show the same selfless courage in peace that they did in war. To swear that by the grace
of God and the stubborn strength and power of human will, their sons and ours shall never suffer these pains again. These men have done their job well. They have paid the ghastly price of freedom. If that freedom be once again lost, as it was after the last war, the unforgivable blame will be ours not theirs. So it is we the living who are here to be dedicated and consecrated.

Too much blood has gone into this soil for us to let it lie barren. Too much pain and heartache have fertilized the earth on which we stand. We here solemnly swear: This shall not be in vain! Out of this, and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this, will come — we promise — the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.

God Bless them all, each and every one of them. These events are all but forgotten to the youth of today’s America. Our new educational system rather teaches worldly events of no value or consequence to our own country. I pray that will change with the new leaders!

Originally posted 2017-02-19 12:55:26.

The “Root”

Today is a day that we Marines of yesteryear will never forget.  Some of you reading this post may not have even been alive on that dreadful day. It was a day where we as Marines suffered more losses in one day since the battle for that infamous island of Iwo Jima. While I was not there in the heat of all of it, I was impacted indirectly. I was the CO of the Corps’ largest recruiting station at the time, and two of the Marines  lost on that tragic day were from Chicago. The city mourned and SgtMaj Collins and I participated in its mourning. Quite a memorable experience for us both. It’s all in “The Book.”

My friend and Marine brother Greg pays tribute to that fateful day. Thank you Greg.

Twenty and Counting                                        By: Greg Maresca

For those not keeping count, it was 20-years ago that this column first appeared in these pages. Through the auspices of the now retired Jake Betz, former editor of The News Item, he gave a fledgling part-time sports’ stringer and broadcaster an opportunity to write a featured op/ed.

Sometimes I wonder if Jake regrets unleashing this space that grew like a cancer – slow at first and then metastasizing to other publications and outlets who were willing to give it a play. That first column has mushroomed to nearly 1,000 was something I debated about writing.

I had possessed no desire to write it but felt compelled. Such an overreaching sentiment would rise like a phoenix about many subsequent issues, questions, and concerns that live rent free within my DNA.

Back in 2003, as the run up to the 20th anniversary of the Hezbollah attack on the 24th Marine Amphibious Unit’s headquarters at the Beirut International Airport approached, I waded through TV guides searching for at least one program on this forsaken piece of American history that should be anything but.  Sadly, and to no surprise, there was nothing, no documentary to be seen, heard, or read about. Not one news’ program discussing where the genesis of the War on Terror had its deadly roots firmly planted.

Seemingly, the day was going to innocuously pass like any other.

This was not going to happen on my watch.

There was just too much blood and treasure spent on that fateful early Sunday morning nearly half a world away to not remember.  The casualty count on this cowardly suicide attack on the Marine Corps hadn’t been that high since the battle for Iwo Jima.  The largest non-nuclear blast since both atomic bombs were unleashed during World War II would claim 220 Marines, 18 sailors and three soldiers nestled away in their bunks at 6:22 on that fateful Sunday morning October 23, 1983.

Being a used book aficionado, I found one of the few tomes written on the Beirut deployment in a flea market for the pricy sum of a quarter.  The volume was practically brand new, and I wondered if anyone had even read it before being exiled to the flea market circuit. No bookmarks or any notations were found within its pristine binding.  The late esteemed military history writer Eric Hammel’s “The Root: The Marines in Beirut” now stands guard over my ever-growing stack of must reads.

John Chipura had quite an incomparable story to tell but never would have the opportunity, but I would.  When I read about his tale months after the 9/11 attack, its irony was nauseating. Chipura, a New York City native of Staten Island, was serving in Beirut the day of the attack. He returned unscathed only to meet his end as a member of the NYFD based out of Brooklyn at the World Trade Center nearly 18 years later.

Regrettably, not much has changed as the Middle East remains the graveyard of American foreign policy after years of trying to fashion the region into a stable, peaceful, and prosperous place.

Taking on edgy and provocative issues encouraged me to read widely, while at the same time fostering the principles of an open society and free markets, which are today more important than ever in a culture growing with leftist orthodoxy and fanaticism.

Facts, analysis, and experience are the guide where edification matters more than good intentions or telling folks what they want to hear.  You cannot be concerned with what people think, do, or say, since being called into question and criticized is the byproduct and where having the skin and guile of a crocodile is all part of the gig. For those who disagree, the hope is to challenge them with a better understanding of an alternate yet reasoned out perspective.

Putting accuracy ahead of popularity and running counter to the contemporary ethos is both costly personally and professionally. There are plenty who do not care for this column, but thankfully there are also plenty more who do.

Out of fidelity to the truth, certain things must be said and written about.

There is no other way.

Thank you for reading.

Very well said Greg, thank you kind sir!

 

 

 

 

Lest We Forget

Yesterday, 19 February, was the 78th anniversary of the landing of the Marines and sailors on the island of Iwo Jima. Each year on this date I am reminded by many fellow Marines of the speech given by Rabbi Roland B. Gittelsohn at the dedication of the Fifth Marine Division Cemetery shortly after the battle ended. Of late I find myself wondering how those of whom he speaks feel about what they see looking down on this once great nation for which they gave their lives. Most Americans today, especially the younger ones cannot even venture a guess of what happened on this small Pacific island so many years ago.  And, sadly, many could care less. But I still care, I care very much for he speaks of my brothers

Should you have some free time today on Presidents Day, you may want to click on the lnk I have provided and learn something about this significant event in our nation’s history, that is before it is erased by those who choose to change our history.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Iwo_Jima.

Please read it slowly and carefully so as to not lose the full impact of his words to us all.

By Rabbi Roland Gittelsohn

This is perhaps the grimmest, and surely the holiest task we have faced since D-Day. Here, before us lie the bodies of comrades and friends. Men who until yesterday or last week laughed with us, joked with us, trained with us. Men who were on the same ships with us, and went over the sides with us as we prepared to hit the beaches of this island.

Men who fought with us and feared with us. Somewhere in this plot of ground there may lie the man who could have discovered the cure for cancer. Under one of these Christian crosses, or beneath a Jewish Star of David, there may rest now a man who was destined
to be a great prophet — to find the way, perhaps, for all to live in plenty, with poverty and hardship for none. Now they lie here silently in this sacred soil, and we gather to consecrate this earth in their memory.

It is not easy to do so. Some of us have buried our closest friends here. We saw these men killed before our very eyes. Any one of us might have died in their places. Indeed, some of us are alive and breathing at this very moment only because men who lie here
beneath us had the courage and strength to give their lives for ours. To speak in memory of such men as these is not easy. Of them too can it be said with utter truth: “The world will little note nor long remember what we say here.” It can never forget what they did
here.”

No, our poor power of speech can add nothing to what these men and the other dead who are not here have already done. All that we even hope to do is follow their example. To show the same selfless courage in peace that they did in war. To swear that by the grace
of God and the stubborn strength and power of human will, their sons and ours shall never suffer these pains again. These men have done their job well. They have paid the ghastly price of freedom. If that freedom be once again lost, as it was after the last war, the unforgivable blame will be ours not theirs. So it is we the living who are here to be dedicated and consecrated.

Too much blood has gone into this soil for us to let it lie barren. Too much pain and heartache have fertilized the earth on which we stand. We here solemnly swear: This shall not be in vain! Out of this, and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this, will come — we promise — the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.

Let us as Marines and Sailors never forget what this photo means to us