Guadalcanal Journal:
A Personal History of the Battle for Guadalcanal.
Guadalcanal August 7, 1942: “The jungle is thick as hell. The Fifth Regiment landed first and marched to the airport. We went straight through and then cut over to block the escape of the Japs. It took three days to go six miles. Japs took off, left surplus first day, which was done away with.”
“The second day was murder. All along the way were discarded packs, rifles, mess gear and everything imaginable. The second night it rained like hell and the bugs were terrific. The Second Battalion (First Regiment) had reached the Lunga River…”
“The third day we came back. The Japs had beat us in their retreat. We took up beach defense positions. We have been bombed every day by airplanes, and a submarine shells us every now and then. Our foxholes are four-foot deep. We go out on night patrols and it’s plenty rugged. We lay in the foxholes for 13 to 14 hours at a clip and keep firing at the Japs in the jungle. As yet, there is no air support. The mosquitoes are very bad at night. The ants and flies bother us continually. The planes strafed the beach today. A big naval battle ensued the second day we were here, which resulted in our ship, the Elliott, being sunk. All of our belongings were lost.”
So begins my father’s firsthand account of his grueling experience on the island of Guadalcanal.
He wrote his Guadalcanal Journal in 1942 when he was a 21-year old Marine.
But more than a half-century would go by before my brother and sisters and I got to read it. For years the brown leather Journal lay buried in a bureau drawer. The miniscule words had faded and were hard to decipher. Then, last July, not long after my father’s death, my mother found a typed transcript of the diary among his papers. My dad had never talked much about Guadalcanal when he was alive. Now we know why.
“While we were giving the one cruiser hell, the Japs landed a battalion of men on Red Beach, but we did not know about it. The next night 12 of us went on patrol and took up positions on our side of the Lunga River. About 3 a.m., hell broke loose and the Japs started to cross the stream. I want to forget all about it. My buddies being shot and blown apart…”
In fact, except for my dad’s occasional fevers, the malaria my mother said he’d contracted during “the war,” and the military uniform he wore in his wedding picture, I hardly connected him to the World War II we’d learned about in history class.
That’s all changed. One night when my dad was in his early seventies, he watched a television program about the wartime propaganda films of Frank Capra. In one scene a priest dispenses communion to young leathernecks lined up on a tropical beach. My father recognized himself immediately. He sent for the video and when it arrived, we agreed that it was him alright, despite a full head of wavy brown hair. (This footage was originally a newsreel that sent two of my mother’s friends rushing home from the theater one evening with big news: “Cassie! …We just saw Jim-Jim at the movies!”) The film clip of my handsome father in battle fatigues on a faraway beach convinced me, but it cannot compete with the power of his Journal to make the past come alive.
“They bomb every day. Our fellows went out to the airport on working party. When air raid signal sounded, they went to a ravine. One of the personnel bombs landed and killed three, seriously wounded two. It was a horrible blow to us. Cameron was one of the best men in the Corps. I was going to visit him when we got home. The way our men are getting killed, I wonder if any of us will get back.”
It was on a beautiful summer day that my father quietly passed away, at home, surrounded by a loving family. It wasn’t always so. My dad grew up in a two-story brick rowhouse in the Gray’s Ferry section of Philadelphia, a neighborhood known as “the Devil’s Pocket,” during the Depression. He lived with his great-grandmother and grandfather, who elected to raise him instead of placing him in an orphanage. When she died, his grandfather boarded him at the home of his best friend, nicknamed Coogan. As teenagers, they enjoyed romancing the girls at South Philly dances and driving to Wildwood at the Jersey shore on weekends in Coogan’s jalopy. Their youth came to a screeching halt the night they heard the electrifying broadcast of the bombing of Pearl Harbor on the radio at Coogan’s house. My dad promptly quit his job in the wire factory and enlisted in the Marines.
After the war, my dad made the most of his second chance at life. He worked as a police reporter for a newspaper, wrote short stories and attended college at night. He became a radio broadcaster and had his own call-in talk show. He started a public relations and advertising firm, contributed news stories to The New York Times and anchored a weekend newscast on a local television station. Eventually, he entered the healthcare field and worked for many years as a hospital administrator. He earned his bachelor’s degree in business (Rutgers University) and his master’s degree in public administration (New York University). By the time he retired, he was a member of the prestigious American College of Healthcare Executives. When he died, he left four children, 10 grandchildren, a great granddaughter and a wife of nearly 54 years, behind.
Thanks to the Journal, we now know a little more about the man in the middle, Jim Donahue, the Marine. We know that he cared about his Marine buddies. That he suffered from dysentery and chronic eye infections, as well as malaria. That he went for days without sleep. That he ate Japanese rations and wore Japanese clothes for a month until supplies arrived. That he loved getting mail from my mother. That he hoped to be home by Christmas. That he lived with the fear of imminent death. That he, my kind, gentle, smart, cheerful, funny father, had, incredibly, killed human beings he called “The Enemy.”
“One might ask, “How does it feel to kill someone?” You don’t stop to think. There is a man intent on killing you so you kill or be killed.”
Not a man was lost in the landing operation on Guadalcanal on August 7, 1942. The Japanese, caught completely by surprise, fled into the jungle and the hills beyond, abandoning their prized airstrip — but not for long. When the fighting finally subsided on Feb. 9, 1943, more than 1,700 Americans had been killed, nearly 5,000 wounded (most of them, Marines) in this, the longest of the World War II battles fought in the Pacific. (It was the longest, single military campaign in U.S. history.) American and Japanese forces clashed repeatedly for a period of six months in a fight to the death. My father wrote: The Japs sure mean business. The naval historian, Samuel Eliot Morison, was more eloquent when he said, “Guadalcanal is not a name but an emotion, recalling desperate fights in the air, furious night naval battles, frantic work at supply or construction, savage fighting in the sodden jungle, night broken by screaming bombs and deafening explosions of naval shells.” That state of affairs is confirmed in nearly every entry in the primary source that is my father’s Guadalcanal Journal.
“Three air raids today. They killed one and wounded three. This was our 89th bombing raid. This doesn’t count the times our planes intercepted theirs. They sure had their eye on the airport and boy, did they hit it — nine direct times! Toward dusk, enemy artillery opened up on us. We retaliated. At 1:30, two cruisers and one battleship shelled us for two hours. So far today we were hit by land, sea and air.”
“This is the first chance I had to write. For three days and nights we have been bombarded by land, sea and air. Fourteen-inch shells off a battleship kept punching our defenses. We have been hit by air three times in one hour. At night the Jap artillery gets started. Gas for the airplanes is very low. Situation is desperate. Our battalion pulled out of line to take up 5th position. Army relieved us on other line. Four transports of Jap troops unloaded. We sunk or damaged every one. We need reinforcements. The crisis is fast approaching.”
“The Jap bombers just came over but we had a 10-plane patrol that gave them hell. They dropped their bombs. We saw two bombers go down in flames. If you want action, join the Marine Corps. I didn’t believe it ’til I hit this island.”
Action is what he got at the pivotal battle of Hell’s Point (also known as the Battle of the Tenaru River), which he describes at length. In the early morning hours of August 21, nine hundred Japanese troops, the cream of the Imperial Army’s infantry, attacked Lt.Col. Al Pollock’s reinforced Second Battalion, 1st, while defending the Lunga Perimeter.
“It all started about 3 a.m. in the morning. However, we were warned about 11 o’clock to “Stand by your guns.” Each man passed on to the other all the way down the line. Was this going to be the real test? All of a sudden our listening posts reported troops moving toward us… The point was heavily fortified. I don’t mean with big guns, but we had a platoon of machine gunners there and a 37mm gun crew… The Japs still came across and we kept knocking them off. Their machine guns would throw up a barrage for them but their field of fire was limited. They finally succeeded in getting a machine gun across, which was set up right below. Len Beer threw a hand grenade, which silenced it… The 37 MM gun did plenty of damage with its canister shot. The Japs brought up their field pieces and started laying them into the line and point. Following soon our 105’s silenced them. Japs were using rifle grenades and mortars. After about two hours, reinforcements came up. They sent two light machine guns, which were mounted between Bottles’ and my position and Beer’s and Dignan’s. Within ten minutes the whole two crews were shot up, this due to the fact that they were not below the deck.”
“At this point, Sgt. Muth picked up a gun and started running down the line. He would stop, fire a few good bursts and then take off to a new position. J. moved up behind Murray, and I and he had a BAR. He shouted if there was room for him in the foxhole. There wasn’t, so we had to make room. He would be killed if he stayed on the deck. A machine gun had been mounted in an abandoned alligator and they were throwing plenty of lead our way. J. crept as close as possible and made a dive for our hole. He landed okay and Murray and I continued our fire. About five minutes later, I said to Bottles, “Why the hell don’t he fire?” Murray said slowly, “He’s dead.” I said, “Are your sure?” And he said, “Here is his blood; feel his pulse.” But we couldn’t determine whether he was alive. We couldn’t move an inch either, for the Japs were really spraying our lines. So I reached over and felt his pulse. His face was sunken and there was no pulse. The blood began to fill the hole, so we fixed a poncho so that the blood would stay on the other side. The next morning I saw that he had been hit in the head and chest. While our artillery was finding the Japs’ range, they landed three in our lines so close to us that we were covered with dirt. We thought that the next one would land square on top of us…”
When the battle for Hell’s Point ended many hours later, about 800 Japanese had been slaughtered. The Americans lost 34 men; 75 were wounded. The
dishonored Japanese commander retreated to a coconut grove and committed suicide. The invincibility of the Japanese, widely believed after a string of previous victories in the Pacific, was apparently a myth. America could win; U. S. Marines at Hell’s Point had died proving it. Those gallant fighting men, my father called them, saddened that they had not lived to see the newsclippings from the states about the successful “Solomon Action.”
Over the course of the next three months, my father survived a number of close calls– standing watch, sleeping in a hillside cave, visiting his buddies’ graves…
“Again, I can thank God for letting me live. We were digging three alternate gun positions in case the Japs break through. We were not given any Condition. Suddenly, Fisher spotted 30 Jap bombers just about over us. We grabbed our helmets and ran like hell. Where we were running, I do not know, just trying to get out of reach of the bombers. It can’t be done, because no one knows where they are going to bomb. Mugno and I finally spotted a small foxhole and we dove in. Just then we heard them dropping. All the time I was repeating, “Hail, Mary.”
“Seven Jap planes bombed us today killing six and wounding 43. I was very, very close. God was with me.”
“Lt. Benson called us all together. We have tried four assaults on Japs at Kokumbona and all have failed. They are dug in and planes have to get a direct hit to kill any. Artillery is the same way. The only way to get them is with mortars, so we are doubling up. We will take 8 mortars. Every man will have a hand grenade. 2nd Bn is the spearhead and it must push and drive. The Japs have to be killed and we gotta do it. It will be a tough job. The reason given for failure of the last attempts was due to men stopping to bring their wounded buddies in. God be with us.”
Just when it is “beginning to look like we will never get off this island,” things take a turn for the better. It is early December when my dad writes:
“There is a rumor that Vandergrift said that the First Marine Division is through fighting in the Solomon’s… We will probably go back on the lines soon. Good scuttlebutt never comes true, but the bad always comes true. I have never seen it fail.”
For once, the rumors are true. According to the Journal, the Army general slated to take over the island from Vandergrift wanted to use the First Marines in another assault. Vandergrift got wind of it and had it stopped. Despite continual attacks on land, the advance of Japanese convoys by sea and dogfights daily in the sky overhead, the moving out process commences.
“We are now set up on the beach and what a layout! We moved into a good tent. The cots were there for us. We found a lot of food and equipment. We also found two bottles of beer, which we drank on the spot. Boy, did they taste good!… We are moving again today. We are scheduled to board ship in a few days. I hope we do before anything comes up… Today is Dec. 18. We are bivouaced at Mouth of Lunga River. For the first time since we hit the island, our machine gunners have not stood gun watch… What do you think happened last night? We saw a movie, and not six miles away, men were fighting for their lives. … We boarded ship today..Noorham and then we changed to President Johnson. I now write finis to Guadalcanal.”
“Finis to Guadalcanal.” I know now what these words meant to fighting men like my father. No more rats, lizards, crocodiles or mosquitoes to contend with. No more torrential rain and knee-deep mud. No more equatorial heat. No more strange diseases. No more stench. No more jungle. No more working parties. No more night patrols. No more nightmares. No more suicide bombers. No more snipers. No more shelling. No more killing. No more Japanese — for the time being. The realization that I have underestimated my father and what he lived through is sobering. He was a much stronger individual than I knew — physically, mentally and spiritually. That strength — what the Marines call “esprit,” what many call bravery — had enabled him and others to endure the darkest hours on Guadalcanal. I learned firsthand — from my father’s Journal — of their legendary sacrifices and valor.
The battle for Guadalcanal had been pretty much decided when the First Marine Division departed the island in late December. With more than a third of the men malaria-ridden and the division deemed no longer combat-effective, the weary Marines were shipped to Australia for much needed rest and rehabilitation — a reprieve. One year later, on the day after Christmas 1943, the men of the First Marine Division invaded Cape Gloucester, the “knock-out punch to the jaw,” in the Battle of New Britain. And then, Peleliu.
The final entry, an epilogue really, is like the light at the end of a long tunnel.
“We ate Christmas dinner aboard ship… A big portion of the fleet was here — about 25 destroyers, 18 cruisers, 1 aircraft carrier, 40 cargo ships, 12 tankers. Reminded me of Frisco. We are now bivouaced on Hebrides (Espiritu Sanctu). It is beautiful!”
I have a favorite photograph of my father taken the summer before his health faltered. He is the picture of contentment, sitting in his sunny backyard, surrounded by flowers and trees, listening to the birds and the Big Band sound of WPEN on the radio, a newspaper on his knee… half a world away from the cataclysm known to history as GUADALCANAL.
How perfectly peaceful it must be where he is now…
Sit back and relax. You deserve it, Dad.
“And when he gets to Heaven, to St. Peter he will tell: One more Marine reporting Sir, I’ve spent my time in Hell.” Pfc James Donahue, H21
By Nancy Croce Copyright © 1998-2012 Nancy Croce
>>>>>>>>>>>>>Please make sure you leave your comments below the post. My family and I love to hear from you<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
April 15, 2013 at 11:57 am
You are a lucky man to get a glimpse of what your father did in the War. My father died Sep 2012, at 91 years old, he was a Nose Gunner in a B24 in the 15th AirCorp flying out of Italy. He flew 56 bombing missions, was shot down several times, but I never got to hear the real story from him. I have a copy of the original Guadalcanal Diary by Tregaskis, but it pales in comparison to your Dads story and writing. You should see about having his diary turned into a book, so all can see the reality of that battle?
April 7, 2013 at 3:04 pm
From one Jar Head to another Thank YOU!!!!!
April 13, 2013 at 1:11 pm
Hi,
I was born and raised on Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands.
My father was a war veteran in the Australian army where he fought against the Japanese in New Guinea and Bouganville. His war experience led him to become a priest in the catholic church soon after being discharged.
As a priest he was sent to the Solomon Island with a catholic mission in the 1950′s. while there he left the priesthood but stayed in the Solomons and continued work with the local villagers. He soon met my mother who was a local teacher on Guadalcanal. I was born in 1969 and during this time my father was made head of the Solomon Islands war graves commission which has since disbanded a long time ago. His job was to attend to any discoveries of war graves, ID tags and other relics of importance from the Solomon Islands and Guadalcanal conflict.
Growing up on Guadalcanal my father would take me out to the battle fields where he would show me copies of battle maps and I would listen to him while he read the events of the battle or skirmish that we were driving out to on the day. I became fascinated with the Guadalcanal campaign because my dad took me to places where the events took place, finding relics which brought the whole thing to life for me and the humble feeling I felt as a kid when going out with my dad to verify a newly discovered war grave. It was adventure and excitement but also a time where new emotions were stirred up in me for the first time as a child. In the journals of US Marines and Soldiers who were at Guadalcanal, I could sympathize with the heat, mosquitoes, long wet seasons, the mud and the fungus which grew on the skin because of the damp conditions that seem to go on forever with the humidity. But this was a comfortable home life in the 70′s and not the combat circumstances in the 40′s where these conditions would of been compounded 100 fold with an enemy that is hellbent on killing me. It would of been hell. The Spanish explorer who discovered the Solomon Islands Alvaro de Mendana refered to Guadalcanal in his diary as “a place I would not wish upon my worst enemy”.
My childhood on Guadalcanal was a great experience especially the times when Marine or Army veterans came back to visit Guadalcanal with their wives and we would invite them to have dinner at our house. This was the best occasion for me because while my dad and fellow veteran were alone on the porch or in the living room, I would hear them share stories. This was the only time I would hear my dad talk about his experience. Hearing the stories, I learned that war experience was a trauma for the veterans….a trauma in which they as young people who are just starting out in life have had their ideals, dreams and perspective in life totally turned upside down and they have only themselves to try and pick up the pieces to make everything right again. I also learned that war veterans will not volunteer to share their war stories and experience due to their sense and virtue of humility and if they were going to talk about it they want to be reassured that the listener would not only understand the experience and story being told but to also understand their emotion as they are telling it. For them it is a pouring of emotion.
April 5, 2013 at 10:02 am
As I sit here after reading everything, I feel very sad. So of you got to speak and meet with the members of your family that servered. I do not get that privilage. My Uncle Cpl. Harry C. Hoskin, Jr. was killed a few years before I was born. My family spoke about him and the fact that he was a Marine. I never knew much until recently. I started looking up history and trying to find anyone still alive that could have possibly known my Uncle. No luck, I waited to long. Those that are left don’t remember or don’t want to. Everyone else is gone. I guess I will never know. Anyone reading this, please, please, document whatever your family tells you. It is sooooo important. Thank you for listening.
March 19, 2013 at 11:42 pm
My grandfather just passed Feb 3rd He landed on Guadalcanal with the Marine Corps He led such a great life after the war that it never occurred to me to look into his “childhood” as a young man in the war. He and his brothers all served together in the Marine Corp but I am unsure yet if they all served together in the same battle. Roy (Royal 1921), Walter (1919) & Bob (Robert 1920) Cluberton My grandma is catching me up on his life now and I am intrigued to hear the stories she will be able to tell.
March 8, 2013 at 7:36 pm
My dad fought at Guadalcanal too at the age of 22…maybe along side your father. Thanks for the info and first-hand account, you are lucky to have it. I never took the time to ask my dad about his own experience as a Marine but do know he fought at Guadalcanal. There are so many things about his life I wished I had asked him…your site has helped fill in some of those blanks. Thank you.
March 18, 2013 at 9:26 am
The website honoring your father honors my father and all the other veterans of Guadalcanal. Thank you. My father was a 17 year old medic out of Company “C”, signing up in January, 1941, and with the 1st Marine Division until he was sent home in 1944. Malaria took it’s toll on him, but he ended up in Korea and then retired after 20 years. A God fearing man, a patriot, and another victim of PTSD. He served his time in hell.
April 3, 2013 at 3:40 am
my dad turned 18 at guatalcanal march 21, 1942, yes he said he went without boots 3 mouths. he had to get some off a dead soldier.
April 3, 2013 at 3:43 am
i forgot to mention my ddad was in the 1st marines and was on the first landing pardy also. he train at parris island, georgia and shiped out from there.
March 6, 2013 at 9:02 am
Charles Harry Murray, Grocer, spent two years on Guadalcanal. His stack of letters to Mom give very little information about the experience. He did ask for “more letters.” I’m composing an article about the importance of letters to military
DAYS OF ANGUISH, DAYS OF HOPE by Billy Keith, tells the experience of Robert Preston Taylor, Chaplain, Major General (Retired) USAF. This story is of the “tragic yet magnificent journey [that] led [Taylor] through the torturous Bataan Death March and three-and-one-half years imprisonment in Japanese prison camps in the Philippines, Japan, and Manchuria.”
This book is placed in the hand of all military chaplains. I think every school should have it as required reading for history. Your father’s journal should be right beside it.
Because of your father and mine and the thousands of others, I am Anna L. Murray Russell, a believer in God as sustainer of life.
February 27, 2013 at 9:43 pm
Thank you for this touching account of Guadalcanal. I have been listening to the series by WEB Griffin and the book I am reading now talks about these events. I was looking for additional information and came upon your father’s journal Hard for any of us who have never been where your dad was can truly understand the strength and will required to stay each moment. God Bless your dad and God Bless The United States Marine Corps.
February 27, 2013 at 8:09 pm
Very nice site, and THANK YOU for sharing your fathers journal. I became fascinated with this campaign, and have been a student of it all my life. It is one of the reasons I became a Marine myself.This should be required reading by all students in our nations schools,if only to make them realize that because of men like your father and your mother who supported the troops by going without at home, is the reason that succeeding generations of Americans(myself included) continued speaking english and were not eating with chopsticks nor learning to goose step!!!! SEMPER FI…
S
February 6, 2013 at 6:37 pm
Really enjoyed this. My dad was another veteran of the Pacific conflict. He passed away last May. I’ve been reading about the war as a way to connect with his past. I’ve been amazed at the sacrifice and commitment. Your site is a wonderful glimpse into the past struggle which changed history forever. Thank you!
February 7, 2013 at 7:36 pm
Hey Mark, Sorry to hear about your dad. We thank him for his service!
January 17, 2013 at 7:17 pm
Thank you so much for sharing the story of your father. I am a Navy Seabee twice deployed in OIF and a military history major. I am doing research for a paper about guadalcanal and I will certainly use your site and your father’s story as references, with due respect of course. More folks should share so that others may learn and understand the meaning of selfless service. Thanks again!!
February 7, 2013 at 7:39 pm
JJoudry,
Thank you for your service! Would like to read your paper on Guadalcanal.
January 17, 2013 at 5:55 pm
I was on the canal after it was secured by the great men there.I was in the 3rd. marine division 21st regiment headquarters coppany and went into Quam 21st July 1944 .A faifly big operation but nothing like Guadalcanal!!!Agreat story about a great man from his children.Thanks,,,
February 7, 2013 at 7:41 pm
Hey There Tom,
Thanks for your service!
January 5, 2013 at 10:35 pm
My friend and classmate from high school in Gorham IL was killed in WWII “somewhere in the Pacific”. A year ago I started looking for his gravesite to enter it into the findagrave system. . Along the way I collected a lot of information. My friend, Marine Private William F Richey was killed on Guadalcanal on November 23, 1942. He was awarded the Navy Cross. His body now rests in the National Memorial Cemetery of the Pacific in Hawaii, unnoticed and unvisited for the last 70 years. His is Findagrave Memorial# 3790295 and Google can find it for you. Please visit this unsung hero and leave a token.
January 5, 2013 at 9:34 am
As a Marine Corps veteran with over a decade of service, much of which was spent in Iraq and Afghanistan, I am humbled by the service of our predecessors. Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal, and other conflicts in the Pacific have earned these warriors a place among legends, and a special place in Heaven. Thanks for this site, and you have our full support!
January 5, 2013 at 4:21 pm
Sergeant P – Thank you for your service. We are in your debt just as we are of those who went before you. Great site you have at http://modernmarinecorps.com !!!
December 10, 2012 at 7:11 pm
I am always looking for information about the Guadalcanal campaign. My dad Cpl. Edward J. Komperda 1st Div marine stepped on the beach on August 7th 1942. I have many stories to share and also many questions. This site is a great tribute to the brave boys that kicked some jap ass for for Liberty.
Thanks for the post…….
January 5, 2013 at 4:18 pm
Thanks for the comment and the visit Dan. A big thanks to your dad!
November 12, 2012 at 11:10 pm
This is incredible JD. My mom is Agne’s daughter and she just showed me this. I have hopes of working with the military and it’s great to know that history is being preserved and those who deserve honor receive it. From what I’ve heard, your dad was a great man and i have nothing but the utmost respect and gratefulness of his service.
November 13, 2012 at 8:35 pm
Brigid so let me get this straight….your mom is my Aunt Agnes’ daughter? Which one, Susan, Marie, or Patti? Thanks for the VERY kind words about our dad. Good luck with your military endeavors!
November 14, 2012 at 4:15 pm
Thank you!
I’m one of Susan’s daughters
November 12, 2012 at 4:31 pm
My Dad Edward “Nick” Manning boston Ma was was a machine gunner in H-2-1 landed Aug 7 1942 on the canal also was in cape glouster and peleliu campaigns so i’m sure he served with your Father. This page is a great tribute to your father God Bless.
November 12, 2012 at 5:13 pm
Great to meet a family member from H21. Yes indeed your dad did serve with H21 on Guadalcanal. I can see his name on the muster roll for August 1-31, 1942. I can fax or send you a copy if you like. Just use the “contact” page.
Regards.
November 12, 2012 at 12:31 pm
I came across this story on Veterans day looking for information on my great uncle George Crosby, Corporal USMC. He died during the battle Guadalcanal and I have little information on him. He like my uncle Glen in Vietnam, my brother, myself and now my son all answered our nations call during a time of war. We left the sleepy mountains of western Maine prepared to do our nations fighting and if need be lay down our lives as required. Thanks for sharing your fathers journal it is a testimony to the daily heroism and sacrifices Marines endure out of duty. Semper Fidelis and gods speed!
November 12, 2012 at 5:10 pm
So Glad you found us James. We thank you and your whole family for thier service and sacrifices.
November 11, 2012 at 2:51 pm
My grandfather was also in this battle as a marine and I have to wonder if they knew each other. Thank you for sharing this, I wish I had access to his WWII pics to share with you. Someday if I get my hands on them I will definitely share them!
November 12, 2012 at 5:08 pm
Hi Shannon, yes I wonder if they knew each other. If they were in the same ompany, battalion, and regiment I’m sure they did.
November 9, 2012 at 8:40 am
My name is Patrick and it is nice to read about Guadalcanal from the eyes of the Warriors children. My father, James Mahoney was a Hospital Corpsman with the 1st Marine Division, and joined the USN in January, 1941 making it a career. I was raised on Navy and Marine bases on the West Coast. I have been researching PTSD in the children of veterans as many of the Greatest Generation GIs had it and never knew it. It can be intergenerational as is well known. My father being one of those that was scarred for life, but none the less a hero. And yes he never spoke of it except through his nightmares. He served in Korea, and saw battle there as well. My mother was an Ensign as an RN in the Waves which is how they met, another war time romance. Thank you for sharing this personal journal.
November 9, 2012 at 6:36 pm
Patrick….Thanks for stopping in and telling the story of your parents. What a great story it is!
November 2, 2012 at 10:18 pm
It was an honor to stop at your website for a moment and meet your Dad. I served with Second Battalion, First Marines in Vietnam but even as a former Marine, I am in awe of the guys who went across those beaches and fought so hard in the jungles. I think they truly were the greatest generation. Hopefully, websites like yours will keep their memories alive forever.
November 3, 2012 at 6:48 pm
Glad you could stop by Thomas and thanks for your service in the jungles of Vietnam! Our dad was also Second Battalion, First Marines in Guadalcanal…..H21 to be more precise.
November 8, 2012 at 5:54 pm
Thank you so much for sharing … I’m constantly amazed by the courage that men like you father and my grandfathers displayed without any hesitation … they had a job to do, and they did it. Simple as that.
Absolutely amazing!
CR
PS – I think I see some balance to this story … my grandfather was an airplane mechanic in the Aleutians, so if you balance out that cold with your father’s tropical heat, then they’re both sitting in the shade up above right now sharing a beer!
C
October 25, 2012 at 6:57 pm
Enjoyed the wonderful story about your dad you must be so proud . My uncle Cpl Albert Vaccaro served in the Philippines was captured on Corregidor and survived the Death March of Bataan only to die at Camp O’Donnell from torture To my amazement I found at the camp a monument dedicated to “The Battling Bastards of Bataan ” and inscribed was his name . I have made it my work to visit WWII battlefield sites and pay my respect I have been to Guadalcanal on two separate occasions and marveled at the conditions that our men fought under. May your dad Rest in Peace He to is my Hero. Thank you for his story
October 25, 2012 at 9:50 pm
Henry thanks for stopping by and commenting on our Guadalcanal site. Yes we are proud of our dad as we are all who served. Your uncle paid the ultimate sacrifice and is the true hero. You might want to visit http://guadalcanal.homestead.com/ . This guy has made several trips to Guadalcanal and has done a nice job of documenting it.
Regards,
Jim
October 13, 2012 at 12:50 am
Thank you so much. My dad, who passed away about 7 years ago, never talked about his war experiences. I didn’t know about Guadacanal until my cousin gave me this book and said this was what my dad had experienced. My dad said that he was a cook in the Marines and never experienced any action. Now I know better. Thank you for helping me to understand my Dad better.
October 13, 2012 at 11:04 am
Hi Lou Ellyn, You are welcome and thanks for the comments. It seems I hear from everyone that their father never spoke of their experiences on Guadalcanal.
October 10, 2012 at 7:04 pm
My name is Catherine and my dad also fought with the 1st Marine Division on Guadalcanal. Like your father, he has passed away and when he was alive he rarely said anything about his wartime experiences. Thank you so much for sharing your father’s journal and your comments. I have renewed interest in WWII having just found a long searched for picture of my dad in a Life Magazine taken in 1942 on Guadalcanal. I know my dad was in the 1st Marine Division, but I don’t know the company or regiment–I suppose it’s possible that your dad and mine even knew each other. Whether they did or not, they shared an experience that we can hardly imagine. Thanks again for your website. I will read the full journal now. My dad started a journal but never finished it, unfortunately. I’m glad to have your father’s account of the incredibly courageous Marines who fought in Guadalcanal. My dad also fought in Tarawa.
October 13, 2012 at 11:02 am
Great to hear from you Catherine. I got the picture via email.