I served with Headquarter Company and the l^st platoon G Com­pany, 2^nd Battalion, 5t^h Marines. I was a Fleet Marine Corpsman. I think it might be interesting to tell you how I joined the Navy, but ended up serving in the Corps. I was 17 years old, and a senior attending Roo­sevelt High School in St. Louis, Mo. The country had been at war for about 18 months and I, like most of my friends, were anxious to "join up." I chose the Navy because my big brother Jack was already in the Navy and was in the hospital corps. Jack had been to Cuba with a detach­ment of Marines and then he was sent back to the Navy to go to school. My Dad signed for me. I took the physi­cal, and I was soon on my way to boot camp in Farragut, Idaho. It was located in the moun­tains and the setting was beautiful. I took to military well and had no trouble in "Boots." My D.I. was a man named Arthur Mercante who had been a boxer and later on I saw him on television as a prominent referee. He later became commissioner of boxing for the State of New York. He was a tough but fair D.I.

They organized us into platoons and my pla­toon leader was a 2°^d Lieutenant named Waddle. I re­member his name all these years because of a funny incident. A little red headed corpsman did something to upset him and he got in this guy's face and ate him up. As he gave Red hell, Red went backwards, further and further. When the Lieutenant let up a little, Red said, yes sir, Lieutenant Waddie. That set off another tirade and he bent Red back as he shouted in his face, my name is not Waddie, it's Waddle, Waddle, Wad­dle, Waddle - like a DUCK. No one made that mistake again. We also had a Marine corporal teaching Marine Corps things and trying to make us over, from sailors to Marines. It was not an easy job, I'm surr. but they made it very clear that we were now in the Fleet Marine Force, and members of the Corps, and therefore we were subject to all the rules and regula­tions of the Corps. The platoon leader made it abun­dantly clear that we were to become Marines.

Of course, our lives changed drastically from the easy-going life in a Naval hospital to a tough regi­mented course in field medicine. Mornings were de­voted to Marine Corps training, that is, close order drill strict inspection of our gear, and eventually, Long punishing hikes. We learned the basics of the M1 rifle, the Carbine and 45 pistol; the latter weapon would become standard issue for most corpsman. We went to the rifle range and fired .he M1 and the Carbine, and to the pistol range for training with the 45 pistol. We needed to be fully trained on these weapons for reasons which would become obvious to us when we went into combat. Also, we took training on the proper method to throw grenades. We learned the difference between grenades, and were taught that white smoke grenades might become the difference between life-and-death if we needed to get out of a tight spot.

Most of the afternoons were devoted to the study of field medicine. The corpsman already had a basic knowledge of first aid, care of patients and the proper method to treat minor injuries and ailments. Now it became necessary for us to learn how to treat and care for a man who was seriously injured from gunshot wounds and all other ones. We were taught that FMF corpsmen had a tradition of giving combat Marines the best possible immediate care and therefore drastically reducing combat deaths. Our teacher was a former FMF corpsman who had been in combat with the Marines, and he told us grizzly facts about mortal combat and what we would face in the future. He told us about living conditions in combat and how there would be physician there to help us. It would totally be up to us to care for the Marines and we were responsible to get them home. We graduated after a six-week course and our final trial was crawling under barbed wire while machine guns fired above us.

We were transferred to a hut Camp to await shipment overseas. While there the Marines needed three corpsman to go to Jacks Farm with scouts and snipers. To escape the boredom I volunteered. The scouts and snipers used a bolt action Springfield 1903. I know they kicked like a mule, because I was allowed to fire them too. We were with the Marines in the event that someone was hurt or had a minor ailment. Fortunately, everything went smoothly. We also learned the discipline of how to conduct yourself on the line firing range. The gunnery sergeant in charge left no doubt, and if you violated his rules, he would eat you like a sandwich.

Orders came down to incorporate us in the 48^th Replacement Battalion. The battalion consisted primarily of Marines. There was however a large contingent called corpsman as well. The day came when we were to load out. We had no idea where we were going, but we knew that the easy life and the good Liberty in SanDiego was all over. They transported us in trucks to the place where we would board the USS Azalea City, a Liberty ship. To our surprise there was a Marine band to play for us aboard. The leader of the band was none other than the fa­mous musician Bob Crosby. The accommodations aboard this ship were not exactly a Carnival Cruise line. The food was not very good, and we slept in the hold of the ship which was very hot. It didn't smell very good either. We read, laid around topside, and thought about the fu­ture.

The ship traveled unescorted across the Pacific Ocean. We were all by ourselves all the way to New Caledonia. I have forgotten the number of days that it took to cross, however, I do remember the shellback initiation as we crossed the In­ternational Date Line. The crossing was very boring with nothing to do but sleep, play cards and shoot craps,. I had two friends and they heard that the Colonel was having a birthday cake made by the cooks. It was a large sheet cake, and somehow these two corpsmen found a way to steal the Colonel's cake. We ate as much as we could, and in fear of getting caught, we threw the rest into the ocean. One of the two men was Cliff Barnett.   He was a fine welterweight fighter and had been champion of the 13' Naval District.        Sadly, Cliff was killed sometime later on the Island of Peleliu. When we arrived at New Caledonia we went through another period of boredom. We were waiting to be assigned to a Marine division. We were to be re­placements for the men who were killed in action„ wounded, or returned home for other reasons. We were assigned to a platoon and were given field problems and working parties. Corpsmen went along with the marines in the event someone was injured. We fired at jump tar­gets on the range and went on long hikes to keep in shape. We also had liberty in the town.

One morning ten corpsmen, myself included, were called upon to clean up a recreation area. The Master at Arms gave us the tools we needed and told us after we cleaned up the area to report back to the Master at Arms tent for further work assignment. We did our job, cleaned up the area, went back to the tent, but no one was there. We saw a basketball and proceeded to start a game. A few minutes later the Master at Arms returned. He went ballistic, nuts, be ranted and raved. He said you guys are going on report for shirking duty and disobeying ordem The next day we ten corpsmen were brought before a major. He sentenced us to 10 days hard labor. They took us to the stockade, shaved our heads, and gave us jumpers with a big P on the back. The stockade was just an open tented area surrounded by high fencing. The only other prisoner in the stockade was a man named Macy Unice. He had murdered another Marine m cold blood while he was on liberty. He was waiting for a general court-martial to convene. We could talk to him even though he was separated from us. He absolutely hated the sergeant ma­jor in charge of the brig. He thought the sergeant was a sadist. The only thing that he loved was his pet cat and the only living creature who loved him, I suspect. One night the cat ven­tured into the stockade area where Macy lived and as a way of getting "even" with the Sergeant he poured Aqua Velva on the butt of the Sergeant's cat. Well, a bloodcurdling scream woke everyone as the cat passed the moon. The brig boss insisted that we tell us who hurt his cat un­der penalty of death, or worse. Not a corpsman squealed on Macy. The result was that we did sack drill until 4:00 a.m. This punishment required us to fold up our cots and bed rolls, on the double time, run out in the assembly area and stand at attention. When 4:00 a.m. rolled around it became clear, even to this guy, that no one was going to roll over on Macy, or confess to the dirty deed. The word got around that "these guys" were all right and couldn't be made to rat out a buddy! Soon we were on the move to the 1 ^St Marine Division, and we arrived at that "Island Paradise, Pavuvu" This island was in the Russell Island group and had been secured sometime in 1943. It was a Proctor and Gamble coconut plantation. There were thousands ot coconut trees, all in rows, and they were just the proper distance apart that a tent, with the flaps up were a perfect fit. The division had was just coming to Pavuvu from New Britain and were the worse looking group of people you can imagine. The conditions there were sub tropic and the men were infected with every kind of skin fungus, intestinal infections, malaria, jaundice and were just plain worn out! So their job was to rest and get fit again for combat. Wrong. Their job was to build from scratch their own rest area! The Marines were not happy campers, but, as usual, made the best of it.

In time new men joined us and some of the old heads were shipped stateside. We began training for another Blitz, operation in other words. As we loaded aboard a troopship, in late August, we still had no idea what island we would invade, but the Japs were getting defeated throughout the Pacific. They were being beaten on Land Sea and Air. Their only option was to kill as many Americans as they could, and kill they did, they were fighting to the death, no sur­render was in their mentality. Their religion and devotion to the Emperor was fanatical and they were skilful soldiers. But, we had determination in our cause, and we were getting more powerful and the weeks and months passed. This nation was producing the greatest war ma­chine the world had ever known. We first made a practice landing or landings on Guadalcanal Island, then when the training landings were finished we steamed for, what would be, some thought later, was a terrible mistake. Even today, there are several schools of thought on the value of this little island of Peleliu to the cause of the Pacific war. Yes, we finally knew where we were going. On board the ship we were shown a mock up of the island. The brass told up that it would be a tough fight, and like Tarawa, the battle would be intense and hard fought, but we would be out of there in a few days. Well, we felt our leaders were sure of their facts and didn't they have the intelligence of early recognizance by ships and planes

They must know what they were talking about, and while we didn't trust everything they said, they must know what kind of defenses the Japanese have on this little Island. Before daylight on the morning of September 15, 1944 the first Marine division assaulted the Island of Peleliu.

The Fifth Regiment was in reserve and the Seventh and First Regiments were in the as­sault. Second Battalion Fifth Marines was due to land in the eighth wave. We boarded our small boats and proceeded to the line of the departure.  At the line of departure we left the LCVP's and boarded amtracs. The assault waves were already on the beach and the amtrac driver told us that casualties were heavy. As I looked over the side, I couldn't see how any Japanese could be living on that island. All of the Navy ships were throwing everything they had at this small island. It was covered with smoke. I was looking up and I saw a Navy dive­bomber on his run getting hit and just disappearing in a ball of flame. Approaching the beach we could see burned out amtracs, men wading ashore, and splashes in the water telling me we were having plenty of incoming fire. Of course, history tells us the First Marine Division took over 30 days securing this tiny island. Over 10,000 Japanese Marines and soldiers fought to the last man and caused casualties of 70% to many of the battalions of the First Marine Division. The First Marine Regiment was decimated after three days of hard, punishing, hand-to-hand fighting with a stubborn Japanese force that would give no ground.

We made it ashore safely and crawled over the side of the amtrac. Machine gun fire, mortar fire, artillery fire and hand-to-hand combat on this beach was not unusual. The Head­quarters Company Group that I was with started inland because we knew it was suicide to stay on the beach. We were to set up a battalion aid station near the airport. As we were moving up to get to level ground, the Japanese saw us in the open, and fired many rounds of artillery or mortar fire. They had that spot zeroed in. Several of our men were killed, including Sergeant Major Letillier and his runner. When the barrage stopped, I became aware that I was wounded There was no pain at first, but soon I could feel the blood run down my leg and into my leg­gings. Somehow in the confusion the men who were not wounded bravely cared for those of us who were. I remember being on a stretcher that was carried by two marines. They were taking me to the beach to be evacuated. As I was lying on my back, I saw a Jap tank trying to break through the defense to head toward the beach. The two Marines calmly set down the stretcher, took their rifles off their shoulders, and started firing at the Japs riding on top of the tank. Sud­denly, however, that tank exploded in a ball of fire, I am sure it was hit by a bazooka or an anti­tank gun. The two Marines shouldered their weapons, picked up my stretcher and took me to the beach.

That is about all I remember until I woke up on a hospital ship. I was unloaded on Ma­nis Island, then placed into a hospital airplane and flown to Guadalcanal. I was treated at the U.S. Navy hospital, number 108. I stayed there two and half months, taking my treatment and having my leg heal up. After this time, I was released to duty and returned to Pavuvu on the mail boat.

The men of the division were back from the battle of Peleliu and I could rejoin my com­rades. Everyday wounded men were returning to the division, and we were happy and surprised when one of our comrades who we thought was dead would come walking in. In most cases, it was a joyful reunion. This is how I got to George Company.

My friend, Lyle Newberry, was a corpsman in the First Platoon of George Company. He asked me to come to George Company and be his fellow corpsman in First Platoon, I an­swered sure why not, and now I was a member of a line Co. George Company was being re­placed with new men from the states. The First Platoon got a new Second Lieutenant named Robert Crowton. We also got a new platoon sergeant, named James Norris. Jim had been a seagoing Marine and came to us from a heavy cruiser. Our right guide sergeant was Mike Mihelic. We soon got into the old routine, field problems, and long marches. We continued to receive replacements until the Company was at full strength. Everyday brought more training and boredom, and the routine was getting to everyone.

We had eight corpsman in our Company, they were Corry, Cook, Daniels, Dalton, Bush, Campana, Newberry, and myself. Every morning at roll call it was our duty to give all the men a drug called Atabrine. The drug was to prevent malaria. It was a small yellow pill. The word got out to the Marines that this drug would cause a person to be sterile. If you want to cause panic in a bunch of Marines just tell them that something will cause them to be sterile! Conse­quently, you couldn't hand a man a pill because he would throw it away. Who wants to be ster­ile anyway? Of course, that was foolishness. It became necessary for us to throw the pill in the man's mouth because if you didn't he would surely throw the pill away. We even had to watch them swallow, and that pill was so bitter you couldn't hold it in your mouth.

As March, 1944 approached, we were rounding out into a complete elite fighting unit. The time had come, as we knew it would, to go back into combat. We loaded all our gear aboard ships and prepare to embark. The Fifth Marine Regiment would be in assault this time. Therefore we were loaded aboard LST's. The ships could carry a complement of 250 men and their amtracs. They were strange looking ships, but they were designed for amphibious land­ings.

Again, we laid off Guadalcanal and practiced amphibious landings to get ready for the real thing. When the brass was satisfied that we were ready, we were put to sea in a large con­voy. We made port in the Admiralty Islands and it looked like a Fleet Harbor. There I saw something I would never forget - the aircraft carrier Franklin had been in a huge battle some­where near Japan, and she took several Kamikaze hits on her flight deck. She had caught fire and nothing was left of her but a burned out hulk. Hundreds of sailors lost their lives on this ship, but she would be towed to the states and made like new again. While we were anchored there we had a beach party complete with beer and baseball, and we played and frolicked as if we didn't have a care in the world. Many of us who were together there would soon give up our lives in a bitter fight.

Standing Left to Right: Dalton; Lynne; Martin(KIA); Brown(KIA) Sitting: Lyle Newberry, Jenkins	Bill Lynne and wife Mary Jane	Okinawa, September 1985. G/2/5 Marine sick bay crew. Standing left to right: Lyle W. Newberry; Francis "Shakey" Mahaun; Clarence Vall, W.O., Szymanski, Herschel O. Cooke, Robert C. Lovell. Sitting left to right: Bill Lynne, Harold Sutley, Alfonso Milano, A1 Gonzales, Merl Dalton. In front: Carl "Lud" Limbach.

We put out to sea, gathered in what was said to be the largest convoy of World War II. There were ships on the horizon as far as you could see. Ships of every kind and description. They told us that our next combat was to be on the island of Okinawa.   This Island lay 350 miles from the home islands of Japan. We knew the Japanese to be tenacious fighters, but we also knew that the closer to their homeland we got, the harder they would fight. The Third, Fourth and Fifth Marine Divisions had just secured Iwo Jima, a tiny volcanic island hardly worth fighting for it seems, and their casualties were astronomical. So we knew that we were in for a hard fight, perhaps the hardest in the history of the First Marine division.

On the morning of April Fool's day, Easter Sunday morning, April 1, 1945, we had the traditional breakfast of steak and eggs.  We then gathered topside for roll call.     This is traditional in the Corps. The last roll call prior to combat. Ships lay at anchor everywhere as far as you could see in every direction, and we even got our first glimpse of the Kamikaze aircraft. The sailors aboard the LST were fresh out of the states. And when they were practicing gun­nery they would shoot at a sleeve towed by an airplane. Of course, we would watch them and make remarks about their terrible gunnery skills. But that morning a Kamikaze flew across our bow, and the two tubs of Twin 40 mm opened up on him. He couldn't have been over 200 yards in front of our ship, but he was not after us. He was trying to hit a destroyer near us. But he never made it. The sailors poured fire into him, and he went into the ocean. We cheered like crazy. Those sailors couldn't hit anything in practice, but they were game players!

After roll call, we proceeded to board the amtrac's in the same way that we had prac­ticed many times. When we were all aboard and at a given signal, the two big bow doors opened and the Amtrak's swam out into the China Sea. Other LST's were disgorging their Am­trak's, we formed in lines and proceeded to the beach.

We knew that many of our fellow Marines would be dead before long and that we might be among that number. It was expected that the first waves would take horrible casualties. We felt the amtracs lumber ashore and the big backdoor drop down, we scrambled out and onto the beach. Who could believe it, I couldn't, there was no opposition! A few scattered rounds of artillery came in and in the distance you can hear scattered rifle fire, but all in all, there was an eerie silence. We formed up and moved inland quickly. Was it a trap? No one knew what to expect.

To make a long story short, in three days the Sixth Marine Division to our left, and two Army divisions to our right, had cut the island in half. We were days ahead of our expectation. The Sixth Division turned north and the army on our right turned south. We patrolled and made sure that there were no hiding Japanese in our area.

Okinawa was an island approximately 90 miles long and 15 miles wide. The north end was heavily forested with a hilly spine down the middle that you could almost call mountains. The Sixth Marine Division had some heavy firefights but they soon secured their sector with light casualties on their side. As luck would have it, things were relatively peaceful in our area. Our main recreation was to watch the kamikaze attack the ships in Buckner Bay. At night the Tracers would light up the sky and few, if any, kamikazes escaped. The casualties aboard the ships were beyond belief. It is an historical fact that the Navy had casualties which exceeded the casualties of all the ground forces combined in Okinawa!

Late in April we began to hear rumors that the Army was involved in heavy fighting and would probably need some help. They first asked for the 11th Marines artillery, but our brass said no. They would not commit our artillery without committing the division. We mentally prepared ourselves for what we knew was inevitable. I went to communion service held by the Episcopal priest and in his sermon he said, men, I hear we are going south for the summer. Around the 29`<sup>h</sup> of April, we loaded on to large trucks and were convoyed several miles to the south. We were unloaded some distance from the front lines and our unit was assigned to relieve the 27`^h Army Division. We formed columns on both sides of the road at five P ace in­tervals and proceeded to our positions. As we move moved forward, the men of the 27` moved off the lines. What a bedraggled bunch of men they were, and within a matter of days, we would look just like them. As we approached our positions, the Japanese began to pound our lines with artillery and mortar fire. Already the cry for corpsmen was heard. Our platoon leader, I'm sure on orders, would not allow us to assume the Army's position. We dug our own foxholes and prepared a line of defense.

The following morning, on May 1, 1945, we were commanded to open a general advance all across the 10`^h Corps line. George Company was in the assault as were first and third platoons. We moved down and into the valley. As we moved into the valley things were fairly quiet, but sud­denly we began to receive fire from every corner

and of every kind. We came to our position, and as I remember, an order came in the early af­ternoon for us to withdraw to our original position. Casualties were heavy and we now knew what the army had been up against. The Japanese were using the terrain to their advantage with mutually supporting firing positions everywhere, caves to neutralize, and the hard fighting Japa­nese soldier. This kind of fighting continued every day for the next 50 days. And the casualties we took were being taken by every frontline on Okinawa. Each day brought a new assignment for head-on confrontation. We fought the Japanese toe to toe, and little by little, we gained ground from them. That ground, and those gains, our blood bought.

The night of May 4th and 5th brought heavy counterattacks from the enemy.     They pierced our lines that night and there was hand-to-hand fighting in our platoon. Our platoon leader, Robert Crowton, and a fire team, were cut-off and isolated, and fought the Japanese hand-to-hand. Lt. Crowton was horribly wounded but managed to fight off and kill the Japa­nese who were trying to kill him. When daylight broke, we began to take stock of our damage. Wounded were evacuated including Lt. Crowton, who had facial damage and could not speak, but he was per­fectly alert. He would be evacuated and undergo nearly three years of recon­struction on his face.

The Company was pinned down so badly at this point, they could only evacuate wounded in tanks or amtracs. I was taken to the front line in a Sherman tank. The tank captain told me that when they reached our destination, he would turn the turret in such a fashion that I could go out the escape hatch between the treads of the tank. As I crawled out, I saw my com­rades leaning forward looking at me saying, welcome back Doc, we thought you were blown up. I reported to Captain Breen, and he wrote to me in a letter that I said, I'm reporting back to duty, Dick, for the duration. He said, after looking at me, you probably ought to be in Guam, but we are glad to have you back.

Many things happened to slow our progress such as torrential rains.They were so bad that Okinawa became a sea of mud and even tracked vehilcles. But, as with all things in war, we waited it out and the offensive once more got underway. Names like Sugar­loaf Hill, Awacha Gulch, Wanna Draw, Naha, Shuri Castle, Kinushe Ridge all faded in the past to the conquering 10^th Army. But those names would go down in the Division history as being bought with the blood of thousands.

About the middle of June there were signs that to some extent resistance was weaken­ing. On June 21^St, we assaulted Hill 81, and the Japanese put up a fierce resistance. We as­saulted the Hill either two or three times before we were finally successful. As usual, the Japa­nese fought to the death. Some Marine contingents had already reached the ocean at the south­ern tip of Okinawa. Things became generally quiet and it was a welcome solitude. We were told that we were going to the north end of the Island to be replaced, and to once again go into training. We knew that the next blitz would be the home islands of Japan. And those of us who had actually seen the Japanese fight knew without reservation that men, women and children would meet us on the beaches of Japan. A tent camp was built on Motobu Peninsula and this would be our home until the first of September.

Early August brought the surprise of a lifetime - the atomic bomb. August 8, I think is the date, the first one was dropped. Three or four days later another was dropped in Japan. Afterwards, the Japanese decided to surrender. I cannot tell you the joy we felt when we heard about this super bomb that caused the Japanese to surrender. The war was ending.

At the end of August, the Division received orders that they were going to China. We loaded on ships and we wondered what China would be like. We assumed any place would be an improvement over Okinawa. A huge typhoon had hit the general area and I remember viv­idly the marines were stationed topside on the ship with rifles and BARS to try and shoot any mines that broke loose from their moorings during the storm. We docked in Tanku, China, and the Fifth Marine Regiment boarded trains that would take us to Peking. We were in China os­tensibly to disarm Japanese divisions that had been stationed there. However, we were actually there to be a military presence between the communists in the north and Chang Kai-Shek's First Rt. Army, that was in the south. It was two years plus before a political solution was reached and the marines were allowed to leave China.

China was interesting and fun. We were starved for entertainment of any kind. There was plenty to eat in restaurants, if you could call them that, and plenty to drink in the clubs. Danger here was rather slight. What more can any Marine ask for in this kind of duty. Already a point system had been devised that would allow men to return to the states based upon several criteria. As luck would have it, even though I was not quite 21 years old, I had enough points to go home. I arrived in St. Louis, Missouri, in early December, and after being in the tropics for so long, I nearly froze.

Most of the time that I was overseas, for that matter while I was in the service, I had been corresponding with Mary Jane Ballard, a girl I had known for several years. During the time that we had been writing to each other, we had grown close. We were both looking for­ward to seeing each other to determine if we truly loved each other. I received a 30 day leave after arriving in San Diego and proceeded directly to St. Louis. Mary, my Mother and my Dad met me at Union Station and it was a joyful reunion. I think Mary and I quickly knew that we were just right for each other. I proposed marriage and gave her an engagement ring. We were both very happy.

When my leave ended I returned to San Diego, and a Navy counselor there asked me what kind of duty I would like to have. I said I would like to stay with the Marines and as is typical of the service, they promptly returned me to the Navy and gave me orders to join a ship, the U.S.S. St. Louis, a light cruiser that was berthed at Mare Island, California. I drew all new Navy clothes and caught a train to San Francisco and reported for duty aboard the USS St. Louis. I learned quickly that the St. Louis was going to be decommissioned. She would be put to sea soon, go through the Panama Canal, and proceed to the Philadelphia Naval yard where decommissioning would commence. It was a great trip for me. I enjoyed every bit of it. I had very little responsibility and life aboard this large ship was very pleasant. We enjoyed the Lib­erty on both sides of the Canal and then proceeded up the Atlantic to the Philadelphia Naval yard.

In the decommissioned process every piece of equipment had to be cataloged and then protected from the elements. It was a huge job however, and it was fun in a way. The St. Louis had an extraordinary history. She had 13 Battle stars, and was the only ship to get underway on her own steam immediately after the attack at Pearl Harbor. She was in nearly every Battle in the Pacific and was badly crippled on two occasions. But she survived and she had a proud crew to go with her proud history.

Near the end of June 1946, I was returned to St. Louis, Missouri to be separated from service. I looked forward to civilian life as Mary and I had been married in April and wanted to be together. That is a thumbnail history of my service and WWII.

Note: I want to thank Tom Evans for the opportunity to write of my experience. I con­sider Tom a great friend and he was a great Marine. Tom and I remember that I took care of him when he was wounded. Things like this, and other things that happened to our Company, have truly made us "A Band of Brothers." George Company lost 101 men killed in battles from Guadalcanal through Okinawa. We were not an unusual Company. It is my belief that if you looked at the roster of the other companies of the First Marine Division, you would find much the same sacrifice.

We had about 40 corpsmen attached to Second Battalion Fifth Marines at any one battle. I have never counted the number of purple hearts, bronze stars, and silver stars these corpsmen earned. But I do know that Robert E. Busch received the Medal Of Honor and attends all reun­ions. William Hallyburton was awarded The Medal of Honor, posthumously for gallantry on May 10, 1945. Joe Marquez and Robert Crowton both received Navy Crosses. Those of us who saw a lot of combat know that not all bravery was officially recognized with medals, offi­cially. But, we know that bravery exists also, in a man's heart. Semper Fi. Bill G. Lynne 338­43-35 U.S.N.

Why I go to G2-5 Reunions?

I suppose there are as many ways to rationalize our attendance as there are people who do attend.

As you know I was a navy corpsman. I was rotated home from Peking in December 1945. After a leave, I was returned to the Navy, and, still had nearly a year to do on my hitch. I was assigned to the CL 49, U.S.S. St. Louis for duty. I felt like a fish out of water. The Navy just did not feel "right." There is an attitude, a spirit, yes, an esprit, a sense of union welded to most of us who served together in mortal combat. It is impossible to put in words the thrill of meeting again those men who were wounded and were returned to duty because I "took care of them." Can you imagine my emotions at again seeing Bob Crowton, after all these years, well and healthy. When he was evacuated few in G-Company would have recognized him, looking at his face. It seems ridiculous to many veterans, when I attempt to explain our reunions to them. They just "don't get it", and they never will. The emotions are so deep, and God knows we are not supposed to show them, we cannot explain them ourselves. So, why don't we just enjoy each other, in our old age, vow not to miss a reunion again, and let it go at that.

Note - Bill passed suddenly on September 15th of 2011 a few days after receiving the Bronze Star. He will be dearly missed.