Perhaps the most important aspect of this web site will be this page. It's success will depend on those who come here. It is historically imperative that future generations understand, on a personal basis, what transpired in World War II. There is no better way to do so than to present YOUR story in this forum. Primarily this site id dedicated to those who served in the 96th Infantry Division during WWII, however, we will present stories from any contributor who participated in any of the Pacific Theatre of Operation Campaigns.
If you would like pictures or other material presented here, such as letters, postcards, patches, or other correspondence we will scan it and return it to you, or you can email us whatever scanned item you have. If you have any questions email us or call 614-236-8699.
Many Thanks,
Rodney E. Lannon
A Bit of Home on the front Line
By Mercer H. Carey
Co. "F" 383rd Regiment
96th Infantry Division
I was a member of the Armed Forces in the invasion of Okinawa as a rifle
squad leader in a front line company. Our Division, along with several
others made the landing on April 1, 1945, Easter Sunday. After being in
combat for nearly two weeks our regiment, now a mere shell of the regiment
which landed on Easter Sunday, was pinched out and moved to the rear to
receive replacements and bring the number up to full strength. Upon moving
back up on the front I had a full squad, five regular men and seven
replacements. At first our company was in reserve in our Battalion and then
only our platoon. We were used daytime bringing up ammunition, water and
rations and night times filled in gaps on the fount line.
Upon one of these evenings, my platoon Sergeant had me place my men up front
to cover our given area and while digging in a machine gun squad leader,
from Heavy Weapons company and his men came into our area and set up to
cover a draw. Much to my surprise the squad leader was a friend from back
home, Robert Abbott, and we shared the same foxhole together throughout the
night. Being together, we felt this was like a bit of home, while even
though on the front line. Having a brief encounter with the enemy late
evening and artillery rounds in our area we were lucky in not receiving any
casualties that night, although caused a number of such to the Japanese. It
was a sad parting in the morning when we left the area and returned to our
respective companies, never knowing whether we would ever see each other
again.
Several days later our platoon sergeant, Dennis O. Duniphin was given the
word to take his platoon and fill a position in another company area where a
platoon from that company had received heavy casualties and the few men left
were withdrawn. I was appointed to take the lead with my squad and regain
this area. As we reached our objective, I along with another platoon member
were struck down and seriously wounded by shrapnel from a mortar round.
After being given first aid by my platoon sergeant and hi supplying
tourniquets to my left leg and arm and a bandage to a small wound on my left
side rib area. A litter was acquired from our Battalion Aid Station and two
of my squad members carried me to the aid station where I received blood
plasma, then taken by ambulance, along with other wounded to a General
Hospital. Shrapnel was removed; wounds cared for, cast applied to leg and
arm in preparation to be evacuated back to the states.
While on a convalescence furlough from the Army Hospital at Temple Texas, I
along with my wife, Bernice, visited my folks who were living in Bay City,
Michigan. Soon after we arrived, my father informed us that Robert Abbott
was also home on convalescence leave from the Army Hospital he was assigned
to as he had been seriously wounded from shrapnel also. I was very happy he
had survived and was brought back to the states and home. Robert was
visiting his family who lived in Saginaw, Michigan a short distance from my
parents and we had a joyous reunion once again in a much safer and happier
environment that where we had last met.
The small fragment of shrapnel that had inflicted my chest wound struck one
rib, glanced over against another rib and popped out. The surgeon who
prepared my wounds and readied me to be evacuated from Okinawa, said had
that shrapnel been one half of an inch higher or lower I would have been
ready for grave registration. He also mentioned someone higher up was
looking over me and I heartily agree. I feel the same applied to my friend,
Robert Abbott and we both thank God for his watching over us.
