Flying reporter sees Iwo ablaze from end to end
By William F. Tyree, United Press staff writer
ABOARD A NAVY LIBERATOR BOMBER OVER IWO JIMA – Tiny, tough Iwo Jima was ablaze from end to end today as our bomber dropped down into its battle smoke to watch wave after wave of Marines plough ashore from an 800-ship invasion armada for a showdown fight in the enemy’s front yard.
From 1,000 feet above the beachhead, it was obvious that the Marines had a terrific battle on their hands.
Even as the mighty battleships, cruisers and destroyers circled endlessly, sending crushing salvoes into the volcanic slopes of the island, I could see Marines dashing for cover on the rocky southeastern beach. Some were far inland toward the airstrip.
However. the Japs were fighting from their underground defenses. Twice as we swung over Mount Suribachi’s crater at the south end of the island and around the northern wooded section, the Japs gave us bursts of anti-aircraft.
As we approached the island, hundreds of small craft moved toward the beach, unleashing thousands of rockets.
Waves of Marines followed within 45 minutes.
Smoke and dust covered the entire island. Iwo itself looked like a fat pork chop sizzling on the skillet as carrier planes swept in under us, strafing and bombing every installation they could find.
One fighter crashed in flames just inland from where the Marines struggled to consolidate their beachhead. In the calm waters off the island, hundreds of ships maneuvered endlessly while old pre-war battleships – USS New York, USS Texas, USS Nevada, USS Arkansas, USS Idaho and USS Tennessee – belched shells from their squat gun platforms.
There wasn’t a Jap plane in the sky.
Iwo Island was appropriately named “Hot Rock” for the occasion of this attack. Our aircraft personnel chattered furiously over the command radio as they took stations for continuing the fight.
Springs gas leak
Two Navy photographic planes with Webley Edwards of CBS, representing the combined networks, and myself, representing the combined American press, took off from the Marianas early this morning, but Mr. Edwards’ plane was Lucky Louie. It got there first and mine, The Lemon, lived up to its name and sprang a disastrous gas leak three hours out.
After a disheartening return to base, the pilot, Lt. Cmdr. L. R. Gehlback of Beacon, Illinois, grabbed us another bomber and we reached the target about 10 a.m., just as the fight began to get rough.
The co-pilot, Ens. John G. Schell Jr. of Asheville, North Carolina, gave me headphones as we heard the Marines calling for fire support from the fleet. Bursts of orange flames sprang from the muzzles of the battleships and cruisers’ big guns and huge columns of smoke and fire rose skyward from the island seconds later.
Steams from hits
It was a systematic murder and destruction. Suribachi’s crater steamed from successive hits along its ridges overlooking the beach. I could see many formidable pillboxes along the beaches, as well as a few rusty ship hulls, already put out of action.
None of our surface forces had been disturbed by enemy counteraction by midafternoon, although the water literally was alive with Yanks either going ashore or carrying supplies to the beach.
The invasion armada had spread out for scores of miles around the island. There was no mistaking the fact that the Americans arrived to stay on Tokyo’s doorstep, but the fight looked like it would require a week or more before the finish and as if an awful lot of blood would be spilled before it was over.