Letters from Iwo Jima

MPP Games’ Brothers In Arms Series IV

Iwo Jima: Climb the Mountain

Bearclaw Paintball- Fayetteville, Tennessee

Friday, October 19th

My Dearest Mikko-chan,

The Emperor, in His glorious wisdom, has assigned me to the island of Iwo Jima.  The American Devils will be landing along the beaches in the morning, but we know not yet where.  Why they would want this desolate stretch of sand and hills, I cannot understand…though it is not my place to question the brilliance of our leaders.

General Kdiddy-sama has assigned my squad to the headquarters as reinforcements to rapidly deploy to wherever we are needed in the morning.  Sake is flowing amongst the troops and spirits are high.

There is bad news being whispered amongst the units, however.  These Americans will most likely have heavy armor to support their infantry.  I may die tomorrow, but I will bring honor to you and my homeland.

I have written my death poem.  All that is left is to die gloriously.

-Tree

Saturday, October 20th

My Dearest Mikko-chan,

Today has been a violent series of battles, yet I still live.

Early this morning, the Americans began their assault on the beach.  Artillery from their ships pounded this desolate hellhole of sand…though our bunkered emplacements along the beaches remained unscathed.

The southeastern shores were the target.  With a meager 25-man detachment defending this stretch of oceanside desert, General Kdiddy-sama quickly deployed the rest of our troops on the island to support them.  Whether we arrived in time was yet to be seen.

Americans poured from the landing craft in waves, shooting into the bunkered Japanese troops crouched in the ridgeline of the trees.  As the Devils ran forward to die, I was also running toward the sounds of combat.  My death poem tucked tightly into my uniform over my heart, I plunged through the tranquility of the forest towards the ever-increasing shouts and screams of the battle.

I was assaulted by the sound.  Like a torrent of hail crashing upon the wooden shingles of our home, the sound of the massive confrontation threatened to break my resolve.  No amount of training could have prepared me for the withering firefight that I saw before my eyes.

I clutched my gun tightly, fearful to fire a shot.  Surely if I fired at one of the American Devils on the beach, they would spot me and end my humble life.  To my left and right, others began to fire.  I watched their shots reach through the trees and find their targets.  American soldiers were eliminated in droves.

The death poem’s delicate paper brushed against the flap of my pocket.  Funny how such a small whisper of a sound caught my attention in the deafening exchange of gunfire.  It gave me purpose…I raised my gun and added my own weapon’s voice to the cacophony of noise.

We took casualties.  Not so many as the Americans, but the volume of troops pouring from the landing craft never seemed to stop.  By midday, the Americans had driven us backwards into the trees and established a base of operations off of the beach.  Word of our adversary’s name had filtered through the ranks by now.  The American General, Death By Daddy, was a well-known name to many of us.  It is no wonder the American dogs fought with such determination to secure the beach.

I was continually on the move…probing the American lines along a flank, or forming up with my other squadmates and pushing hard directly at the middle of their lines.  Many times I was wounded.  Many times the brave medics were there to patch me up.

Ah Mikko, I must tell you of the brave woman medic.  I have never seen such fierce determination as what Deb showed today.  Where men were cowering behind cover, she was in the thick of the battle- weaponless and unafraid.  Truly, the Emperor’s daughters may take strength in her dedication to our homeland just as we men did today.  If not for her and the other medics, many more soldiers would have perished…possibly giving the tide of American soldiers an opportunity to sweep through our lines.

Thankfully, this was not the case.  The infantry battle remained heavily in our favor.  The tanks though, were a different story.  Access to anti-tank weaponry seemed very limited.  The Americans sent tanks through our lines as many as two at a time to wreak havoc on our outpost in Suribachi and elsewhere.  I personally witnessed the might of these tanks and fear that they may turn the advantage back towards the Americans’ side.

I had established an ambush position just off the road between the American base and the fortress at Suribachi.  The growling sound of a motor announced the tank’s approach.  I tucked even closer to the ground…attempting to hide my body beneath nothing more than a few fallen leaves and a small sapling.  I watched the tank approach through my peripheral vision…praying that it would not spot me.

Remaining motionless, I used my ears to keep track of the tank’s position once I could no longer see it.  I dared not move my head.  It was so close as to be right on top of me.  I could hear the muttered gibberish of the Americans talking to each other as the tank motored forwards.

The squealing of brakes announced that something was wrong.  The tank had stopped directly beside my hiding spot!  I closed my eyes and waited for the hail of shots to riddle my body.  Seconds passed and I was still alive.  Ever-so-slowly, I tilted my head to the side to see why I was not yet another corpse on the battlefield.

The turret of the tank was not pointed at me, but instead on the fort at Suribachi.  A heartbeat after I had laid eyes on this goliath machine, the hissing report of its main gun drowned out the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears.  For what seemed like an eternity, I watched helplessly as the tank systematically destroyed every tower and building within the fort, eliminating many brave Japanese defenders within.

Petrified, I remained still… so still that my muscles had begun to cramp.  A searing pain in my calf assaulted me…not from an enemy shot, but from a charlie-horse of knotted muscle.  Just as the pain became too intense to bear, the tank began to grind forward again, on its way to the next target now that Suribachi had been demolished.  I gritted my teeth and waited for the tank to roll away from my position, and then began to stir…working out the cramp in my leg and hobbling away from the roadside.  I never again got close to the road today…I could not risk my luck in surviving another close encounter such as that.

It is getting dark now, and our orders are to snuff all lights to prevent an American Airstrike from decimating us as it had earlier today.

-Tree

Sunday, October 21st

Mikko-chan,

I no longer fear battle.  I have seen too much of it in the past 48 hours to ever hesitate again.  I had reached the limits of my strength by dusk yesterday, but many brave Japanese soldiers carried on the fight through the night.  Missions were run in almost complete darkness, and short-range firefights broke out sporadically…making many of us in the camp stir in our bedrolls, but yet glad to find a few moments of respite from the battle.

Eventually, even these skirmishes died off in frequency until finally silence ruled the forest.  It was a fitful night of sleep for me…the run-in with the tank haunted my dreams.

I awoke early this morning, the sounds of mess kits clattering as soldiers wolfed down hastily prepared meals.  I began to reload my kit and was amazed that I had burnt through more than 2,000 rounds the day before.  As I was provisioned with more ammunition, I gawked at a fellow soldier who was telling me that he alone had shot more than triple this amount.

In fact, the quartermaster had not been prepared for the sheer ferocity of the battle, and had sent for additional ammunition to be sent to our facility.  Thankfully, it had arrived in time…so no one was short for ammunition.  If yesterday was any indication of things to come, I would again be running low on ammo by the end of the day.

At the HQ, I formed up with my squad and began the march towards the lines we had established the day before.  The morning was humid, and within a few moments my vision was starting to fog up.  I squinted through the poor visibility and pressed on.

Unlike yesterday, I was not in the least bit hesitant to fire my gun.  We pressed straight through the middle of the forest and assaulted the American base, forming a wedge and bisecting their skirmish line.  I took up a position behind a small barrier of fallen logs and loose brush…looking for signs of movement through my fogged vision.

I did not have to wait long…American devils were attempting to re-establish a skirmish line directly across from my position.  My squad and I harried the enemy and eliminated many of them during the firefight.  I was wounded in the arm and fell back to the HQ for treatment.  Not to worry, it was a clean shot and the medics tell me it will heal just fine.  If nothing else, it is minimal enough that they did not relieve me from duty.  Soon after I was patched up, I had orders to return to the battle.

The fates have a twisted sense of humor.  I rejoined my squad and we began fighting along the hill just south of the Suribachi roadway.  Not long after we had found entrenchments to hold the line, the growling of a tank engine approached.  I knew what was coming, and screamed for anti-tank support, but it was nowhere to be found.  With dread clenching my stomach, I saw not one, but two tanks approaching our position.  Again, they stopped along the path directly outside of the walls of Suribachi.  Their turrets were not pointed at the fortress this time…the Americans controlled the fort.  My squadmates and I found what cover we could and waited.

More babbling gibberish and pointing gestures from the tankers, and the two machines began trundling south past our position in the woods.  Another close call, but this time there was no relief.  American troops began pouring out of the Suribachi fort and following the tanks south.  My squadmates and I waited as long as we could, and then opened fire.

We caught many by surprise, but their numbers were too great.  We were sent packing in short order and we rendezvoused at our headquarters to regroup.

Word trickled through the ranks that the Americans were attempting to make a final push to establish a more permanent position on the island.  The next hour of fighting would determine the fate of Japan’s property…the island of Iwo Jima.

Once more refilling our ammunition supply, the Japanese army was assigned to take and hold three strategic points on the island.  With the end of the conflict in sight, we grouped up by squads and hustled towards our objectives.

Resistance was met almost immediately.  By the time my squad approached our objective, it was already in the hands of the Americans.  The forest became our best ally, providing concealment for us to encircle the American position.  At an unspoken signal, we rained fire down upon the group of buildings from the surrounding hillsides.  Japanese and American forces collided in close-quarters fighting as groups of brave soldiers began a room-to-room frenzy of flashing swords and point-blank encounters.

From my hillside perch, I watched us slowly retake the town.  I kept suppressive fire aimed towards the Americans’ line of reinforcement…pinning a few soldiers who were attempting to relieve their beleaguered comrades in the town.  Sweeping through them, the rest of the Japanese force eliminated the last bits of resistance and the town was ours.

Soon after, the battle had ended.  The Americans, having failed to establish a firm foothold further into the island, had given up their beachhead HQ and were loading troops back onto the landing craft in an organized retreat.

Ammunition had run out for many of us, and so we followed Bushido.  One of our XO’s was reported to have taken nine enemy soldiers with his blade before falling to the enemy.

Mikko, I have been given the order to pack my gear.  My service to the Emperor has rewarded me with a trip home before I am once again called on for duty.

I have burnt my death poem…this island has rid me of the need to carry it.  My poem will be forever ingrained in the sands of Iwo Jima.

-Tree