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The valley offered almost no cover. Shallow folds of earth and shattered shrubs were all that shielded the Marines of 1st Battalion, 5th Marines as they tried to push forward on Okinawa Shima on May 7, 1945. Ahead of them, on a high ridge at the valley’s mouth, a Japanese machine gun hammered the slopes, stitching bullets across every patch of ground where a helmet or sleeve dared to move. The air vibrated with the c
The Illinois division’s wartime service led through Hawaii, New Guinea and Morotai to northern Luzon, where difficult terrain, combined operations and widely separated small-unit actions defined its contribution.
A story of street-to-street fighting, shattered assumptions, and how one city battle reshaped the Vietnam War.
A story of a risky harbor landing, brutal tides, and how it broke a grinding stalemate in Korea.
In the dark, humid hours before dawn on Okinawa, the American line around Kakazu Ridge was little more than a jagged string of foxholes and shattered stone. Technical Sergeant Beauford “Andy” Anderson and the men of his weapons platoon had spent the night listening to the island—distant artillery rumbled, mortars coughed, and now and then a Japanese flare turned the terraced fields silver for a heartbeat before dropp
The ridge ahead looked less like a battlefield and more like a shattered hillside of rock, clay, and smoke. It was early May 1945 on Okinawa, and the Marines of Company E had stalled below Hill 60. Japanese machine guns chattered from hidden bunkers. Mortar rounds crashed into the slope, showering the men with dirt and splinters of coral. Every attempt to move up the ridge drew a fresh burst of fire that pinned them
The jungle pressed in on both sides of the Ormoc Road, a narrow ribbon of mud and broken pavement cutting through the hills near Limon on the island of Leyte. December rain had turned the ditches into brown pools. American infantrymen crouched behind a hasty roadblock of felled trees, sandbags, and wrecked vehicles, listening to the grinding approach of steel.
The rain-soaked hills of Leyte were already torn open by days of fighting when Company A of the 306th Infantry pushed forward against a Japanese strongpoint that refused to break. Machine guns were dug into the slopes, firing down narrow approaches that funneled every American movement into sheets of bullets. A light tank inched ahead, meant to crack the defenses, but the infantry platoon walking behind it stalled un
The fuel gauges in Harold Bauer’s Wildcat fighter were already edging toward empty when the coastline of Guadalcanal slid beneath his wings. He had just finished leading a long, tense, overwater flight of Marine fighters up from Espiritu Santo, six hundred miles of nothing but ocean and cloud. Henderson Field, the hard-bitten airstrip the Marines called home, lay ahead as a thin strip of coral and mud, promising rest
Medal of Honor, U.S. Army, World War II
Snow hangs heavy in the Ardennes forest, muting sound until a rifle cracks and splinters bark from a nearby tree. Private First Class Melvin Earl Biddle lies pressed into the freezing ground, the lead scout for an American parachute infantry company feeling every heartbeat echo in the stock of his rifle. Somewhere ahead, beyond the dark trunks and tangled undergrowth, German snipers have halted his company’s advance
A story of a nearly lost beach, scattered initiative, and how small groups clawed back the chance to win a war.
A story of a shrinking beachhead, exhausted troops, and how their stand kept South Korea from collapsing in 1950.
A story of block-by-block urban fighting and the hard decision to take back a city at any cost.
It is the early hours of 10 March 1945 on Luzon in the Philippine Islands. The jungle around the Villa Verde Trail is black and close, broken only by a thin ridge that juts out from a larger hill. On that ridge, just ahead of the main American perimeter, three foxholes scrape a shallow line in the earth. In one of them lies Private First Class Thomas Eugene “Gene” Atkins of Company A, 127th Infantry. His job is simpl
A surviving Type VIIC/41 submarine with German wartime service, a second career as the Norwegian Kaura, and preservation at Laboe.