Picking up the Pieces: The Battle of Iwo Jima

By Fred L. Ward

About the Book
This book is about a young Marine who went through the entire battle of IWO JIMA just 43 days before his 19th birthday. Now less than two months from his 80th birthday, he is putting his memories on paper where it belongs.
His memory is alive and well, his eyewitness accounts are extremely vivid and accurate. This former Marine is the author of his own book, Picking up the Pieces. You will find this book to be heart-breaking in its entirety, accurate and true. Youll find this book often times will give you the urge to cry. In writing this book, dont be surprised to see faded tear drops here and there, thats okay because it will make you appreciate this book more.
I also hope that you will find the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the honesty of Lincoln, and the bravery of Geronimo in the determination and victory of this Marine.
The Author
P.S. In my old age, I try not to remember my battle experiences too often, but when I do, you know what? I cry too.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 17, 2006
• ISBN: 9781450003223

Fred L. Ward

Larry R. Cappetto, creator of “Lest They Be Forgotten” and the Author, Fred L. Ward About the Author -Born on a farm 5 miles southwest of Whitesville, Kentucky in the county of Daviess. - Double promoted twice in grade school, two years of high school. - Given my high school diploma upon making an 85 on graduate test given to seniors of this high school. - Two years of college, two years of law school that was finished in 6 months. - I am not a graduate in any field of knowledge pertaining to any specific studies. I do feel I have as much knowledge in the field of nature as any scientist and more than all of those who are not scientists. More years of studies of nature probably more than anyone in the broad sense of nature as a whole. Because you see, I have 79 years of reading, listening, and observing - 79 years of observing, listening, and reading, 79 years of both - that to me adds up to 237 years of experience, that is enough, don't you think?

Book preview

PICKING UP THE

PIECES

The Battle of Iwo Jima

Fred L. Ward

The Lord is My Shepherd I shall Not Want . . .

Copyright © 2005, 2006 by Fred L. Ward.

ISBN:                  Softcover              978-1-4257-0684-5

                            Ebook                  978-1-4500-0322-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission from the copyright owner.

Research: Daviess County Public Library, Daviess County, Kentucky.

Newsprint: Messenger-Inquirer, Owensboro, Kentucky 42301

This is a nonfiction work pertaining to the author’s experiences during battle. Names, places, dates, and incidents that are remembered to be true and accurate—any incidental statements aside from the news media—by the author are used to highlight a point or enhance the subject matter presented—that is easily distinguished as a product derived from the author’s point of view. Otherwise this book is to be considered a non-fiction book by the Author.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

32461

It was a time to Ask

And

A Time to Pray

Lord, as we take our first step in the deep black volcanic sand saturated with human blood—bits and pieces—toward our enemy, let the Battle Hymn of the Republic ring loud and clear over the din of battle that has just commenced.

Lord, please stay with us please do not leave us—we do not wish to kill—but kill we must—or be killed, we hope you understand.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:

he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the

paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the

shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou

art with me; thy rod and thy staff they

comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the

presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my

head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the

house of the LORD for ever.

Private Ward, where in the Hell have you been? We have been looking for you. 1st Lieutenant Holt and I were just talking about you—we thought you had been killed for sure.

This was my greeting as I slid rather hastily to the bottom of a large crater courtesy of a large 16 inch shell from one of the battleships’ big 16 inch guns or a large bomb from a carrier plane. Don’t you know you could be court martialed? my mortar sergeant said to me.

I have been looking for you—and thanks to the Lord, I found you! I responded.

A suggestion of pride by assist and company I commander: 1st Lieutenant Holt, Well, Ward—get into another shell hole, its no need for everybody to get killed from one shell landing in this hole—shells are falling thick and heavy, he added (as if I didn’t know).

Yeah, get in the hole in front of us—we have one mortar set up there, Sergeant Raboon replied. (Platoon Sergeant—60 mm. mortars Company I, 3rd battalion—25th Marines—4th Division).

Memories

Memories that will be recorded as a

perpetual monument to all of those

who fought and died and survived the

terrible battle for IWO JIMA—as told

in their own words

Senior Citizens,

Veterans of

IWO JIMA

Iwo Jima—Picking up the Pieces—Memories

In my own words and thoughts as events unfolded before my eyes on a daily basis as death followed me at every footstep.

The earth shook—gun powder smoke hung low and heavy in the field of view—over the battlefield. Shrapnel flew—shells whistled, grenades and machine gun fire added to the din of war—even above all the noise—screams from the dead, the dying and the wounded could be heard.

Blown into bits—cut into pieces—soaked in blood—lay violently quivering in a convulsing state—until all life ceased to exist.

It rained in all areas of the battlefield—a battlefield that engulfed the entire length and breath of Iwo Jima. Yes, it rained, guts, blood and shredded flesh—from shore to shore and well into the ocean itself, for those who were not blown to kingdom come—a bullet awaited them right between the eyes.

Huge swarms of huge green flies cast large—dark shadows across the battlefield as they flew low overhead in search of an already over-crowded landing place on decaying human flesh wherever it lay to deposit their eggs on.

Why don’t you give up? Why don’t you give up? I am so tired of killing, its kill or be killed—I am so tired of burying the dead with rocks and sand to hold down the green flies and the stench from rotting flesh.

I am so tired of Picking up the Pieces.

Please will you help me? Please will you help me to pick up the pieces?

Memories

The intent of the following source of information is to provide in detail to you the sacrifices, endurance, and motivation for the urgent survival of those who fought in the insane battle the whole length and breadth of Iwo Jima in mortal hand to hand combat. Hand grenades, flame throwers, satchel charges, bayonets, and the trusted K-bar combat knife, machine guns, pistols and rifles for every minute, every second, for every hour, for every day—bombs, artillery, mortars, battleships, destroyers, rocket ships, ground rocket launchers, tanks, never let up in intensity of the savagery—the entire island shook and shuddered constantly for 36 days—for 36 days—nearly a total of one hundred thousand men fought—over thirty thousand men lay dead—over twenty thousand wounded. I was one of the wounded—I did no leave—I stayed with my unit—I treated my own wound. I helped to pack the wounded on stretchers to an aid station. I personally fired over 8,500 rounds of 60mm mortar shells—shells that landed on the enemy most of the time only a city block away—sometimes half that distance only to bounce off rocks while the Japanese hunkered down in caves and tunnels 8 feet to over 60 feet deep.

All this on an island so small I could ride my bicycle in any direction approximately 30 minutes—5 miles width. We were too close to fire our mortars in support of the Marines engaged in heavy assault on the last ravine of caves and bunkers of the remaining Japanese still alive that at one time were 24,000 strong.

1st Lieutenant Holt to Sergeant Raboon, Sergeant Raboon, have your men to fall in for our return to Blue Beach 2.

As we stood in formation facing the intense assault on the last remaining Japanese, Sgt. Raboon ordered, Pick up your gear—about face—forward ho. As we started on our way back to Blue Beach 2—as I remember, there was complete silence among those of us who had survived this terrible battle. We had only 3 more miles to go—back to Blue Beach 2 where it had all began that once seemed to be a million miles away—a thousand years ago. Ward, Fred L., gunner—60 mm mortar platoon—4th Squad Company I—3rd Battalion—25th Marines—4th Marine Division.

Death Just Inches Away

As I lay there one hour into D-Day—face buried into the volcanic sand, a stone’s throw from Motoyama Airfield No. 1, I was being bracketed by intense Japanese mortar fire—a mortar landed within inches of me throwing a great deal of ashes on me, but it didn’t go off—I spit into the hole where it lay—I couldn’t get up and run for if I did, I would have been cut to pieces from the exploding Japanese mortar shells.

Then the rain came—I said, Thank God for the rain, now the Japanese might not be able to see me. Then as quick as the rain came, the rain stopped—without moving, I scanned the area in front of me as my body hugged the sand. Thousands of tiny fishing worms lay shaking and trembling, a lot of them landed on me as the shells continued to fall all around me. The one laying in front of my nose, I picked up—holding it between my fingers it quivered violently—blood red—a drop of blood from the fishing worm fell on the sand. Oh my God, I realized I had been holding human flesh. With respect, I gently laid it aside—in my heart and mind I knew that as long as the battle raged I would be in its midst—I would be picking up the pieces. Just one hour into the battle and I have witnessed on the battlefield, Marines torn to pieces—a head here, a stomach there, over there a leg—some place else an arm—laying torn and bloody in the clothes they once wore now in sheds and the battle raged on, non-stop.

For those who fought and died

Blood spilled, wherever it lay is always—always is considered to be sacred ground.

The battle for Iwo Jima—fought by over 90,000 men that lasted for 36 days—over 30,000 lay dead upon the battlefield—most of the remaining survivors wounded—the earth soaked with blood—every single foot of real estate contained human blood.

Death, on both sides came quick and sudden in mortal hand to hand combat, death that was always guaranteed to be on the menu at each tick of the clock for 36 days on Iwo Jima.

The Marines did not back off or hesitate—they had a job to do—and they did it. It was a matter of life and death—kill or be killed.

Because of the gallant effort of the Marines in operation Iwo Jima—lives of American service men were saved—yes—lives saved that totaled more than the combined casualties in the battle for Iwo Jima. Bombers could not land on Iwo Jima in case of emergency.

Like I said, the Marines had a job to do in order to save future lives and they did it.

We are forever grateful to the United States Marine Corps.

About the Author

— Born on a farm 5 miles southwest of Whitesville, Kentucky in the county of Daviess.

— Double promoted twice in grade school, two years of high school.

— Given my high school diploma upon making an 85 on graduate test given to seniors of this high school.

— Two years of college, two years of law school that was finished in 6 months.

— I am not a graduate in any field of knowledge pertaining to any specific studies.

I do feel I have as much knowledge in the field of nature as any scientist and more than all of those who are not scientists. More years of studies of nature probably more than anyone in the broad sense of nature as a whole.

Because you see, I have 79 years of reading, listening, and observing—79 years of observing, listening, and reading, 79 years of both—that to me adds up to 237 years of experience, that is enough, don’t you think?

The Author

The Honor Page

This space is reserved for a very special friend whom I just met a few short months ago and your friend too.

Larry R. Cappetto, creator of Lest They Be Forgotten.

This is a living history caught on tape of survivors of great battles of World War II and great battles fought by the United States Armed Forces since World War II, told in their own words of their personal experiences in combat and how they survived.

Their testimony having been captured on tape will guarantee their stories of these great battles will be preserved for all future generations for centuries to come.

Our nation must be forever grateful to Larry R. Cappetto for his tireless efforts to help preserve America’s great wars such as World War II and America’s heroes of that conflict as well as the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and all recent conflicts where America’s best have fought and died.

The historical value of Lest They Be Forgotten is priceless. Without it, we would have only monuments to see.

About the Book

This book is about a young Marine who went through the entire battle of IWO JIMA just 43 days before his 19th birthday. Now less than two months from his 80th birthday, he is putting his memories on paper where it belongs.

His memory is alive and well, his eyewitness accounts are extremely vivid and accurate. This former Marine is the author of his own book, Picking up the Pieces. You will find this book to be heart-breaking in its entirety, accurate and true. You’ll find this book often times will give you the urge to cry. In writing this book, don’t be surprised to see faded tear drops here and there, that’s okay because it will make you appreciate this book more.

I also hope that you will find the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the honesty of Lincoln, and the bravery of Geronimo in the determination and victory of this Marine.

The Author

P.S. In my old age, I try not to remember my battle experiences too often, but when I do, you know what? I cry too.

Acknowledgments to Other Authors

In writing my book, Picking Up the Pieces, I found considerable consolation in going back to the memories of my battle on Iwo Jima—that everyone who survived that terrible battle experienced the same hardships that I experienced—and the books that I read on this battle posted in my local library confirms that everything that I said in this book as well as everything said in the below mentioned books is absolutely true.

That was my purpose and only purpose in reading these books was that I was not alone in what I wrote in my book, Picking Up the Pieces. That what I had to say is also absolutely true—all of it. That is why I wanted to refer to their words in my book.

It is with humble appreciation and gratitude that I offer you the source of information gathered at my local library here in Owensboro, Kentucky to add to my own experiences of mortal combat in my book, Picking Up the Pieces, with each and everyone’s permission—here is my HONOR ROLL, a MUST for everyone to read:

The Battle of Iwo Jima

by Tom McGowen

Never in Doubt

by Lynn Kessler

Flags of Our Fathers

by James Bradley

Shadow of Suribachi

by Parker Albee

I had no idea what lay ahead of me within a few short years as the years rolled by while growing up on my dad’s farm of 96 acres—located 5 miles southwest of Whitesville, Kentucky—on the Boston-Lafoon Road.

But first—before I get into the blood and guts of what you will witness that was destined to happen to me in just a very short time. I want to invite you into my parents’ home to get a glimpse of my young life that, what I believe, was destined to be my guardian angel that helped me to survive the cruel, bloody battle for Iwo Jima. A battle that I had no inkling at that time—lay before me. My farm experience plus the rigorous training by the Marine Corps gave to me the courage and