Completely unknown to
me before this trip, Peleliu Island is located on the southern tip of the Palau
chain of islands and it was a very bloody battle location during WWII. Before WWI the Germans occupied Peleliu and mined
phosphate there. After WWI it was the
Japanese who carried on the mining and used it as part of their supply chain in
WWII. MacArthur thought it would be a
good location for the US to secure during WWII because it was on the right
flank of his planned attack route to the Philippians. Peleliu was invaded by US Marines and Army in
September 1944. What was supposed to be
no more than a one week easy expulsion of the Japanese turned into an 8 week
bloody battle; one of the most bloody up until that time. If you like to read about WWII history and
battles, I highly recommend you read With
the Old Breed on Peleliu and Okinawa by E. B. Sledge. I don’t really enjoy reading about war but I
found this book fascinating since I knew I was going there.
Today Peleliu is
inhabited by 539 people who make their living mostly from fishing, taro
production and growing fruit. Children
growing up on Peleliu can attend school locally up to junior high but have to
go to boarding school in Koror, a town on another island, for high school.
Orange Beach was one
of many different beaches to be simultaneously invaded on that September day in
1944. Almost 70 years later I am
standing on that beach, water like glass inside the reef and big rhythmic
breaking waves hitting the outside of the reef hundreds of yards away. Smooth tan colored sand with many small
shells under my feet and a gentle breeze that makes it comfortable to stand in
the shade of a tree. The sun is
oppressive and the humidity gives my whole body a layer of sweat. Outside the reef the sea is relatively calm
with rhythmic swells and breakers. The
birds are chirping and the whole scene is very peaceful.
As I stand there, I try to picture a line of
Naval ships outside the reef, Marines in landing craft racing toward the beach
and the noise of men streaming off the landing craft onto the beach with the
sound of machine guns and bombs being lobbed by the Japanese. I try to feel the adrenalin, excitement, and
fear they must have felt as they waded ashore, past buddies who had already
been shot, floating in the water dead.
Knowing most of these men were just kids, 19 or so, who had never been
away from home before. Of course I could
never really feel what they felt and never really understand their emotions but
I knew the peaceful location of today was the complete opposite of the noise
and chaos of 69 years ago. I thought
about the families who lost loved ones on this beach or this island and
wondered if they were ever able to see the beauty of this place. I was sad for the loss of so many men from
both sides!
The locals have
started a WWII museum located in an old concrete building that was a Japanese
fuel depot. It was full of various guns
and ammo that had been salvaged from the island, including some very large
bombs. The best part was all the letters
written by US GIs to Japanese families returning personal items they had found
on the island after its capture. Those
were the most touching to read and some were accompanied by the return letter
from the Japanese family.
Bloody Nose Ridge is
the highest point of Peleliu and capturing this point was the goal. To get there the Army and Marines had to
fight their way across an island made of solid ancient coral, covered in thick
tropical jungle in 90 degree heat and 95% humidity. They wore very thick cotton uniforms with
long sleeves, long pants, and very heavy thick boots plus they carried hundreds
of pounds of gear and equipment. To get
to Bloody Nose Ridge we rode in a van with windows down for AC, wearing light
cotton shorts, t-shirts and sandals, carrying nothing. The road now goes a little more than half way
up the 200 plus foot ridge, at the end of the road is a very nice Japanese
memorial. From there we climbed straight
up over 120 wooden stairs to get to the top – it was steep, hot and humid so
the climb was not easy but compared to what the GI’s had to face to get there
it was a walk in park. At the top there
is an Army/Marine monument and a spectacular 360° view
of the island and surrounding sea. I
wondered how the GI’s who captured that ridge saw beauty of that view. They had been in hell for weeks, they were homesick,
tired, scared, dirty, hurting, and who knows what else but did they see the
beauty? Or is the beauty lost to the
trauma of the experience? Maybe having
just come through hell made it even more beautiful? I can never know but at that moment I was
grateful to God for the beauty and grateful to our service members for their service
and sacrifice!
