The price of victory
The 5th Division buried 7,710 enemy dead, or more than half the 13,449 enemy interred on Iwo by the landing force. In addition an estimated 10,000 enemy dead were buried by the Japanese themselves or were sealed in caves during the advance of the three U.S. divisions. Iwo Jima, in turn, had cost the landing force 916 officers and 20,063 enlisted casualties. Nearly five thousand men who had come ashore on the evil little island were not going to leave. Inside white picket fences, tiny American flags fluttered beside each spotless white marker.
On March 21, the 5th Division cemetery had been formally dedicated. Commander Warren Cuthriell and other chaplains prayed, and General Rockey added his tribute to the dead. As the ceremony continued, someone else began to talk: "This is 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 side with us as we prepared to hit the beaches of this island." The speaker was Lieutenant Roland B. Gittelsohn, USN, a 5th Division chaplain. "It is not easy to do so," he continued. "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...
"No our poor power of speech can add nothing to what these men and the other dead of opur Division 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 answer that by 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...
"We dedicate ourselves, first, to live together in peace the way they fought and are buried in this war. Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago helped in her founding and other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men, negroes and whites, rich men and poor – together... Theirs is the highest and purest democracy. Any man among us, the living, who fails to understand that will thereby betray those who lie here dead. Whoever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother makes of this ceremony and of the bloody sacrifice it commemorates an empty, hollow mockery...
"To one thing more do we consecrate ourselves in memory of those who sleep beneath these crosses and stars. We shall not foolishly suppose, as did the last generation of American fighting men, that victory on the battlefield will automatically guarantee the triumph of democracy at home. This war, with all its frightful heartache and suffering, is but the beginning of our generation's struggle for democracy...
"Thus do we memorialize those who, having ceased living with us, now live with us, now live within us. Thus do we consecrate ourselves, the living, to carry on the struggle they began. Too much pain and heartache has 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."
The flag rose, then descended to half-mast. Taps echoed across the volcanic ash dune that was Iwo Jima. During the next five days as units were pulled out of the line or secured from their combat missions other groups of tired, disheveled, battle-sick Marines came to say "goodbye." Again men who had faced death each minute for thirty-six days bowed their heads in prayer or walked silently through the cemetery. After special unit services, groups formed silently and trudged to the beach. There they boarded landing craft which took them to waiting transports. Few looked back as Iwo faded from sight.
On March 21, the 5th Division cemetery had been formally dedicated. Commander Warren Cuthriell and other chaplains prayed, and General Rockey added his tribute to the dead. As the ceremony continued, someone else began to talk: "This is 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 side with us as we prepared to hit the beaches of this island." The speaker was Lieutenant Roland B. Gittelsohn, USN, a 5th Division chaplain. "It is not easy to do so," he continued. "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...
"No our poor power of speech can add nothing to what these men and the other dead of opur Division 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 answer that by 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...
"We dedicate ourselves, first, to live together in peace the way they fought and are buried in this war. Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago helped in her founding and other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men, negroes and whites, rich men and poor – together... Theirs is the highest and purest democracy. Any man among us, the living, who fails to understand that will thereby betray those who lie here dead. Whoever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother makes of this ceremony and of the bloody sacrifice it commemorates an empty, hollow mockery...
"To one thing more do we consecrate ourselves in memory of those who sleep beneath these crosses and stars. We shall not foolishly suppose, as did the last generation of American fighting men, that victory on the battlefield will automatically guarantee the triumph of democracy at home. This war, with all its frightful heartache and suffering, is but the beginning of our generation's struggle for democracy...
"Thus do we memorialize those who, having ceased living with us, now live with us, now live within us. Thus do we consecrate ourselves, the living, to carry on the struggle they began. Too much pain and heartache has 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."
The flag rose, then descended to half-mast. Taps echoed across the volcanic ash dune that was Iwo Jima. During the next five days as units were pulled out of the line or secured from their combat missions other groups of tired, disheveled, battle-sick Marines came to say "goodbye." Again men who had faced death each minute for thirty-six days bowed their heads in prayer or walked silently through the cemetery. After special unit services, groups formed silently and trudged to the beach. There they boarded landing craft which took them to waiting transports. Few looked back as Iwo faded from sight.