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The Japs were crack Imperial Marines. Some, when they realized that further opposition was useless, removed their split-toed, rubber-soled jungle shoes, placed rifles against their foreheads, pulled triggers with their big toes. But most fought to the death.
The enemy's stout pillboxes drew admiration from the Americans. Said a Marine officer: "You've got to hand it to them.
They've got a mighty good engineer working for them." The fortifications had stood up under naval guns, land artillery, 1,000-lb. aerial bombs, point-blank tank fire. When U.S. half-tracks, mounting 75-mm. guns, got ashore, the Marines enjoyed following them. These machines stuck their gun barrels into pillbox openings, fired away. One Jap hit by a 75-mm. shell flew high into the air, then spiraled down, disintegrating as he fell.
"Semper Fidelis." The third afternoon and next day the waterlogged bodies on the coral flats were gathered up, the crude island graveyards were filled. The U.S. Marines, living and dead, had proved they could take it as superbly as any fighting men had ever taken it.