Tuesday, August 19, 2008

30th Anniversary

Last weekend War In the Pacific National Historical Park turned 30. After much preparation and stress, we held two events to mark the occasion. First, on Friday night we hosted a reception and dedication of the T. Stell Newman Visitor Center. For the occasion we flew in Cy O'Brian, a WWII veteran who was with the 3rd Marine Division during the battle for Guam. On Saturday provided a "Meet the Park Units" program with free busses. I conducted a program at Asan Bay Overlook. Here is my program:



"When we talk about what happened during the liberation of Guam we often talk about the leaders – the generals and admirals and the movement of large bodies of troops across Guam’s rugged landscape. This is important in how we understand what happened here but it also overshadows some of the most important stories this island has to offer. For as much as the Liberation of Guam is a story of leadership and strategy it is also the compilation of tens of thousands of stories of the remarkable men and women who lived through the catastrophic events of World War II and each of these stories is significant and compelling. Today I would like to share one of them with you.

Geary Ralph Bunschu was born in 1919 in Oakland, California. Geary had one older sister, Barbra. He was named after his granddad, Thomas Geary, a former member of Congress. Geary’s great grandfather, Charles Bunschu was born in Manheim, Germany in 1842 and immigrated to California where he started California’s first winery. As you can probably imagine, by the time Geary was born, the Bundschu family was pretty well off, one of California’s leading families. While Geary was growing up on Monte Vista Avenue in Oakland, the United States was still struggling to recover from the Great Depression. At a time when many Americans were wondering if they were ever going to find a job or even a meal to eat, Geary was wondering where he was going to college. This was at a time that only the elite could get into college let alone afford it. In 1937, the same year that the Golden Gate Bridge was completed near Geary’s home in Oakland, the same year Japan invaded China and began a war that would not end for eight years, Geary enrolled at the University of California at Berkeley.

For the first time in Geary’s life he was away from home and independent. Geary flourished at Berkeley and became a very popular man on campus. He was a member of the Delta Upsilon Fraternity, the Winged Helmet Society, the Beta Beta Men’s Honor Society, the Skull and Keys Honor Society, and he also somehow found time to run on Berkeley’s track team. Needless to say, Geary was very busy. While Geary was attending class, planning fraternity formals or running in track meets, he probably wasn’t too concerned about world events. He probably didn’t consider how a war in Asia thousands of miles away could possibly have any impact on his life or even during Geary’s junior year when Germany invaded Poland he probably didn’t stop and evaluate how a new war in Europe would effect his career options.

After four busy but fun years, Geary graduated in 1941 with a General Curriculum degree. The future looked bright for Geary – anything was possible. But the veneer of solace and isolation misleadingly imposed by distance and ignorance was irrevocably shattered on the morning of December 7, 1941. On that fateful day, Japan not only bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, but also this island (Guam) and began an unprecedented offensive that captured thousands of miles of territory from Singapore to Hong Kong and from Guam to Rangoon. Like countless other young American men, Geary was confronted with a momentous and life altering decision. It wasn’t if Geary would serve his country in a time of war, no, that was a given. The question for Geary was how.

Geary was a member of a prominent California family and he was college graduate – a rare commodity. Geary could serve in many capacities in fields such as planning, logistics, intelligence, or perhaps serve as a staff officer for a general. There were literally hundreds of options for Geary – options that did not involve immanent danger or combat. But Geary didn’t choose those options. Geary chose the United States Marine Corps and with this choice, Geary certainly understood that he would inevitably be put in harm’s way.

As a college graduate Geary was eligible to attend a new program – the Officer Candidate School or OCS. After completing OCS, Geary was commissioned a second lieutenant in the marines. In June of 1942, he was ordered to report for duty in North Carolina and became part of a new regiment forming there – the 3rd Marines. After only two months, Geary was back in California where, along with his new regiment, he boarded a ship to destinations unknown. As his ship sailed away from San Diego, perhaps Geary watched as the California coastline disappeared through the horizon and maybe Geary wondered when – if ever – he would see his home or his family again.

After a long and uneventful voyage, Geary disembarked at American Samoa where the 3rd Marines would engage in the most intense mountain and jungle warfare training the Marines had to offer. The Samoa’s were far from battle, yet the 3rd Marines began to have significant casualties not from bullets or bombs but from jungle diseases like malaria and especially filariasis. Eventually, Geary and his unit were transferred to New Zealand to recuperate not from battle but from training! After a couple months, they were transferred to the newly captured island of Guadalcanal. Several more months passed and Geary had been in the Pacific for over a year, but had not heard a shot fired in anger and had still not seen the indescribable carnage of battle.

Finally, in October, 1943, Geary boarded a boat that would take him into danger for the first time. Geary and the 3rd Marines, part of the 3rd Marine Division were headed for Bougainville. Bougainville was heavily defended by Japanese soldiers. On the early hours of November 1, 1943, Geary climbed down a cargo net into a landing craft. For the first time in his life, Geary was experiencing the sensations of battle – the deafening sounds, the acrid smell of gunpowder and cordite, and the unbelievable sights of death and destruction. Geary would never be the same. During the ride to the beach, Geary watched in horror as the landing craft to his left took a direct hit – killing all on board in an instant. Somehow Geary made it to shore. Once ashore Geary learned that the landing craft he saw destroyed contained most of the officers of his battalion. Not only did he have to lead as a junior officer, but Geary had to step up and help lead his battalion. After a short but intense battle, Bougainville was over for the 3rd Marines. Geary’s 1st battalion suffered more casualties than any other battalion in the regiment.

After Bougainville, Geary and the 3rd Marine Division were transferred back to Guadalcanal to recuperate and train. Geary became a captain and commander of Able Company, 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines, 3rd Marine Division. As a company commander, Geary was responsible for over 200 young Marines and knew that he would inevitably order many of them to their deaths. After another six months, Geary again boarded a troopship destined for battle, but this time it would be different. Unlike the dozens of island battlefields before, the next battle was not just another island or another step towards Japan, no, this island was Guam. Guam was America and the fate of 22,000 Americans hung in the balance. Geary and the men of the 3rd Marines were imbued with a sense of mission and understood the significance of the coming battle. Guam was the first American territory invaded by Japan and 150 Marines were captured in the process.

While on board the troopship, Geary studied his company’s objective. It was the first ridge rising from the beach and his men named it “Bundschu Ridge.” (Here I point to the actual ridge) It was Geary’s ridge and they were to capture it in the first hours of the attack. But Geary and his men waited on the ship as two weeks ticked by, then another week and another and another and another. For six long miserable weeks Geary waited aboard the wretched, stinking, cramped, reeking troopships for the battle to begin. What Geary didn’t know was that the Guam invasion had been postponed for nearly a month because the battle to capture the nearby island of Saipan had taken far more time and proven far more difficult than anyone imagined. Finally in the predawn hours of July 21, 1944, Geary again climbed down a cargo net into a landing craft for the short but terrifying ride to the beach.

The sun rose above Guam as Geary rode in to battle and perhaps Geary remembered the fate of those officers at Bougainville. Despite heavy Japanese fire, Geary made it in and immediately began to organize his company under fire. Geary set up two of his three platoons in attack and one in support and then advanced toward his ridge, but was immediately shocked and appalled. The ridge he saw in front of him was completely different than the one he had studied for hours on the maps aboard the ship. It was much higher, larger, and steeper. The maps Geary was given were totally inaccurate. The men of Able Company would not only have a difficult fight to capture an essential Japanese position, but they had to climb on their hands and knees in an arduous awkward scramble in order to do it. Despite this setback, Geary couldn’t stop and reevaluate his options; he didn’t have time to create a new plan. Geary had to attack anyway.

Geary’s ridge was not only much more imposing geographically, but more importantly it was honeycombed with determined Japanese defenders. As much as Geary and the Marines had planned, so too had the Japanese. Their objective was to hurl Geary and his men back into the ocean. Geary and his men were under constant fire from dozens of well positioned machine guns and mortars. Soon after the attack began, Able Company was taking intense fire from the front and enfilading fire from both flanks. Geary committed his third platoon. Things looked bleak. At 10:45, Geary radioed his superior, Major Aplington at 1st Battalion. He requested stretcher bearers but above all, water. Any water that Geary and his company drank had to come from the ships to the shore and then carried up the steep slope. Very little water was making it to Geary’s men. Now, men were not only falling from Japanese fire, but from exhaustion and dehydration in the sweltering jungle. By noon, Able Company had suffered nearly 50 percent casualties. After hours of heavy fighting and severe losses, Geary had come to a distressing conclusion; Able Company could not capture the ridge. Geary again radioed Major Aplington and requested permission to pull out. Major Aplington refused and reminded Geary that there was no where to go accept the beach – the ridge had to be taken. Geary was given a direct order to launch a new attack.

By now, Geary was certainly frustrated and exhausted. Many of his best men and officers were dead or wounded. Those that were left were severely fatigued and demoralized. Yet Geary had no choice – he had to obey the order. Geary, now wounded in the arm, organized what was left of his company and because there were only two other officers left, he had to personally take command of one of his three platoons. He ordered the company to wait until dusk before launching the new attack. Despite some initial resistance, the Japanese appeared to give way. Soon the top of the ridge was only 100 yards away then the resistance stiffened. Geary and his platoon encountered a machine gun nest that blocked any advance. Geary ordered his platoon to take cover and personally reconnoitered the position. Despite his wound and making himself a clear target, Geary was able to lob grenades into the enemy position, destroying it and enabling the platoon to advance. During this action, Geary was again severely wounded. During the last few yards of the attack, the Japanese were so close they began rolling grenades down toward Able Company. But despite the enemy resistance, despite the odds, Able Company reached to top of Bundschu ridge… but they couldn’t hold it. The Japanese launched a strong counter attack throwing Able Company all the way back to the beach in disarray. They carried with them their wounded commander, Captain Bundschu.

As night fell on Guam, Geary was placed in a hospital tent on Asan Beach. Major Aplington counted what was left of Able Company – only 20 percent. Able Company had lost 80 percent, lost all but one officer, and was back where they started that morning having accomplished none of their objectives.

As the sun rose over Guam on July 22, 1944, it had been over three years since Geary graduated from Berkeley when the future seemed so bright and the world wide open. But instead of realizing his dreams, Geary Bundschu died in a crowded hospital tent on Asan Beach 7,000 miles away from home. He was 25. The battle for Guam had only just begun.

Geary is now back at home in California buried at the Golden Gate National Cemetery, Section K, plot 156. He was posthumously awarded the Navy Cross, the second highest military honor. Today Geary’s name is one of over 16,000 names that appear on the Memorial Wall (point towards wall) remembering the Americans servicemen that died and Chamorro people that were killed or suffered war atrocities during the Japanese occupation and Liberation of Guam.

That was just one of tens of thousands of stories that make up the battle to liberate Guam. I hope that this story has perhaps given you a more intimate and human perspective to what this war was like to one person caught up it it’s furry."




Cy O'Brian came by and listened to my program towards the end of the day. I was intimidated by his presence, but managed to finish the program. Afterwards, Cy came up to me and thanked me for doing the program and mentioned that he had met Geary on Bougainville and watched Able company fight on Bundschu ridge.



The next day, Sunday, I was on the front page of the Pacific Daily News (Guam's newspaper).


3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Some corrections are needed.

First, Bougainville isn't "tiny." It's more than 130 miles long (40 wide at the widest point). It had a number of airfields on it.

Second, the US forces never "captured" it. What they did was establish, and defend, an area centered on Torokina (on Empress Augusta Bay). They built airfields there, used them, turned the area over to the Australians, and left.

This is all very well documented and I'm surprised that the writer made this error.

benjaminratcliffe said...

Thanks Mr. "anonymous" for your help. Many appologies for the errors. To be honest, I really didn't research Bouganville at all, only the involvment of the 3rd Marines. Right on for calling me out. I am, however, currious to your identity. Is your name James by chance?

Anonymous said...

Sorry about the anonymous post -- I can never remember if I have a google blogger account or not, so typically I just grab anonymous.

No, I'm not James. My name is Don, and I'm an anthropologist who worked on Bougainville, and spent a lot of time time talking with the local people about WWII, and then about their own war of secession, fought from the late eighties through the late nineties.

The WWII fighting on Bougainville is interesting for a variety of reasons and should you want to look into it at all, a good starting place is Harry Gailey's book "Bougainville 1943-1945, The Forgotten Campaign."

My point about how Bougainville was never "captured" refers to how the Allied commanders realized that they did not need to engage the nearly 100,000 Japanese on the island in order to use Bougainville's geographic placement to attack Rabaul. All they had to do was land at Torokina, secure a large enough area for their fighter fields, and hang on until they no longer needed the fields. That strategy worked very well.

It gets interesting -- from my point of view -- when, after the Americans left, the Australians took over and felt as though they needed to "(re)show the flag" and they mounted a ground campaign against the Japanese which was strategically unnecessary but was deemed politically necessary. You can learn about this in Peter Charlton's "The Unnecessary War," if you're at all interested.