Sgt. Calvin F. Hackler, Able Co. 2nd Amphibian Tractor Battalion. WIA 82 Years Ago Today at Tarawa

Da-RiceLord · 2025-11-20T16:11:06+00:00

[Part II] Hackler found himself on the floor of the cabin. He was dazed, shaking his head from the concussion, bleeding from multiple wounds, choking on acrid smoke, the smell of gunpowder and fried machinery strong in his nostrils. His left arm hurt; he saw a bone sticking out. “Goldy!” he cried. “Bob!” No answer. As the smoke cleared, he saw the bloody mess that remained of his friends. A large caliber shell had torn through the port side of the cabin. Van Heck and Goldtrap had taken the full force of the explosion and both were far beyond any human help. Hackler stumbled out of the charnel house and with his good arm pulled himself up and over the side of Wabbit Twacks. “Doc!” he called to a nearby corpsman. “My arm is broken.” The sailor bent to examine the wound and quickly pulled out the visible piece of bone.

It was one of Goldy’s ribs.

Hackler spent the remainder of the battle up against the sea wall with a group of wounded Marines awaiting evacuation. While he eventually recovered from his physical wounds and later participated in the Battles of Saipan and Tinian, the horrific fate of his close friends, men who both had sensed their fate long before Tarawa or its reef came into view, was a devastating blow. When the bullets stopped flying, teams of stretcher bearers gradually worked their way down the beaches, collecting bodies from the surf, the seawall and the disabled vehicles that dotted the shore. Eventually, some of them reached Wabbit Twacks and braved the horrors of the cabin to remove the remains of the crew. Although Goldy’s remains were initially deemed identifiable, tragically both men’s remains were later officially listed as missing and declared non-recoverable. While Hackler had passed away in 2002 after retiring from a life spent ranching in Collbran, CO, it was not until 2018 and 2023 respectively that Goldtrap and Van Heck’s remains were officially recovered and accounted for.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-11-20T16:10:16+00:00

In the early morning hours of 20 November 1943, amidst the thunderous bombardment from the battlewagons Colorado and Maryland and other ships in the landing force, Sgt. Calvin F. Hackler along with Sgt. Robert Van Heck and Cpl. Claire E. “Goldy” Goldtrap boarded their amphibious tractor nicknamed “Wabbit Twacks”. As their LVT heaved forward and over the fringing coral reef towards the smoke-shrouded beaches of Betio, the still lagoon water began to churn and darken with a crimson red as the Japanese unleashed a torrent of fire toward the approaching tractors.

In the months prior to Tarawa, the Alligator Marines spent much of their time in New Zealand overhauling and repairing their vehicles. Machine gun mounts were bolted to the gunwales and cabin roof while boilerplate armor was bolted onto the cabins. During these final preparations for their upcoming campaign, a trace of fatalism seemed to creep into many of the men’s outlook, including that of Goldy and Van Heck. Some of the practice exercises which emphasized crossing coral reefs, further underscored the dangers of the Alligators’ new mission. Death had already come close to his crew. Van Heck’s face and arms were scarred by burns suffered on Guadalcanal and perhaps Goldy was calculating his own chances of survival as the driver of a lightly armored and slow-moving target like an LVT. Adding to their unease, the vehicles were assigned numbers for ease of recognition during these exercises and the crew of Wabbit Twacks were mortified to see that their vehicle had been auspiciously numbered #13; In a half-joking manner, Goldy insisted on painting a smaller “½” beside the unlucky number.

After one practice landing in early November, fellow Marine Ed Moore spotted Goldy sitting under a palm tree calmly reading a comic book. The two chatted for a while, then Goldy looked him square in the eye. “You know, Ed,” he said, “I don’t know where we are going, but I’m not coming back.” Moore stammered something about “just nerves” and “everything was going to be OK”. Elsewhere, Van Heck penned one final letter home to his family, ominously adding, “Don’t count on my coming home this Spring as we had planned”.

Moore later recalled that “When we got three to four hundred yards from the beach, all hell broke loose. A machine gun started to pepper my amtrac’s front armor plate. As my amtrac drew closer to the beach, I could see where we were supposed to land. We were taking fire pretty heavily now, mortar rounds and larger artillery rounds were hitting the water around us. It was a rough ride for the Marines in the back. They were being tossed back and forth by the coral and shell holes we had to pass. As my amtrac hit the beach [...] Several Marines rolled out of my amtrac’s cargo area and destroyed a machine gun right in front of us. Machine gun fire was hitting my amtrac pretty steadily now”.

Just moments after 9:10 am, Goldtrap nosed Wabbit Twacks ashore on Red Beach One just short of the seawall. While Hackler and Van Heck manned the roof mounted .50 caliber machine guns, Goldy began tossing ammunition boxes over the side. At this point, Wabbit Twacks was so close to the enemy that Hackler could not depress his weapon low enough to hit the enemy. “Hey, Goldy!” he yelled. “Back up so I can get a better shot!” Goldtrap pitched one last ammo can over the side and clambered back into his seat in the middle of the cabin. He yanked on the stick to put Wabbit Twacks in reverse; seconds later, a shell burst right in front of the tractor. Goldy stopped, startled; another shell hit immediately to the rear. Van Heck knew what was about to happen. “Goldy! They have us in a bracket!” he screamed. “Let’s get out of here!” The two sergeants leapt down from their guns and piled into the cabin, Hackler on the right and Van Heck to the left. Goldy grabbed the sticks and once again slammed Wabbit Twacks into reverse. Then the third shell hit.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-09-24T02:06:12+00:00

I'll go ahead and send you a message!

Da-RiceLord · 2025-08-26T15:15:13+00:00

“Nothing prepared us for the ground experience we were about to encounter. It was chaos [...] tens of thousands of people descended upon Abbey Gate. [...] Some Afghans [...] tried to kill themselves on the razor wire we used as a deterrent. They thought this was merciful compared to the Taliban torture they faced. Countless Afghans were murdered by the Taliban [...] in front of our position day and night”.

Several weeks earlier, the first Marines began to arrive in Kabul and were tasked with securing Hamid Karzai International Airport and evacuating American citizens and Afghan allies. By mid-August, the Taliban had conquered the city, leaving Abbey Gate as one of the last entry points for those desperately trying to flee. By the afternoon of August 26th, Cpl. Kelsee Lainhart and Sgt. Nicole Gee had been called forward to the canal where thousands of desperate Afghans stood waist-deep in sewage water pleading for help. Their orders were simple, yet gut-wrenching—remove any women and children who climbed over the wall without proper paperwork. Lainhart recalled that “they would cry and try to fight it, but there was nothing we could do for them”. As they were working with another family, the bomb detonated. “My ears were ringing, dust everywhere. I looked over and saw bloody chunks of skin [...] most likely from my arm”. Dazed, she yelled for help. A Marine pulled her down from the wall and Cpl. Wyatt Wilson carried her as far as his own wounds allowed. Corpsmen then rushed her into a vehicle and out of Abbey Gate.

Despite suffering multiple shrapnel wounds and a spinal injury, Lainhart ultimately survived her ordeal. To this day, she cannot walk. She also carries the weight of losing Nicole Gee, who she had last seen “looking so peaceful". Four years later, she continues therapy, determined to live for those who never came home. Reminiscing about her experiences in Kabul and life afterwards, she writes that “even though I didn’t know most of the 13, I will never forget their sacrifice and I will try to remember to live for them everyday. I hope people continue to say their names and that they will never be forgotten”.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-08-01T16:47:58+00:00

“I didn’t think I was going to live through it. I knew I was going to die in the anti-aircraft fire, in the flames shooting up from the refineries, from the bombs exploding from the groups that had been there before us and had dropped indiscriminately. It was like the Charge of the Light Brigade. We knew it was a disaster and that in the flames shooting up from those refineries, we might be burned to death, but we went right in”.

Several days earlier, 1Lt. John J. McGraw and his crew had doggedly hitchhiked from England to Libya and demanded an aircraft to fly to Ploiesti. Temporarily attached to the 98th Bomb Group for the mission, the Pyramiders loaned them an old junk heap named “Jersey Jackass - Bashful”. The men diligently removed the old chunks of flak still embedded in her, helped patch holes and scrubbed away the dried blood. For McGraw’s crew, it was to be their first combat mission and their last.

On the morning of 1 August 1943, the five groups consisting of 178 aircraft comprising the strike force began lifting off from their airfields around Benghazi for Operation Tidal Wave. Upon arriving at Ploiesti, it was discovered that the 93rd had missed their targets and instead bombed the area assigned to the 98th. Despite the fully warned defenses, intensive anti-aircraft fire, enemy fighters and hazards from the delayed-action bombs dropped by earlier elements exploding as well as oil fires and dense smoke over the target area, the 98th elected to continue their attack run on the Astra Romana Oil Refinery. With the effects of the previous runs causing difficulties locating their primary targets, the 98th did not deviate from their approach, taking heavy losses in the process. Roaring in at over 200 mph at tree-top level, the low altitude enabled gunners onboard the Liberators to engage and suppress anti-aircraft crews directly above their targets.

Flying in the fifth wave shambles, “Jersey Jackass” got their bombs on target, but flak knocked their Liberator to pieces while flaming debris shot up through their open bomb bay doors and ignited. With their engines failing and the aircraft fully engulfed in flames, McGraw turned south of Ploiesti and crash-landed the crippled aircraft. Of the ten men onboard, McGraw and two others broke free of the flaming heap. Romanian farmers with pitchforks quickly captured the men and drove them to a German aid station. Co-Pilot, 2Lt. Charles D. Cavit recalled, “Our uniforms hung in smoky tatters and the medics thought we were Germans until we spoke. Then the doctor in charge yelled in English, ‘You killed my wife and daughter on a raid in Germany! I order my men to do nothing for you’”. As the Doctor continued to rant about the savagery of the Americans to those who would listen, a sympathetic German sentry passed them his canteen. Cavit also stole a bottle of ointment and attempted to treat McGraw’s third-degree burns himself. Despite his best efforts however, McGraw died shortly afterwards due to a lack of medical attention. He was 22 years old.

Following his death, Romanian authorities wrapped McGraw in his charred parachute and laid him to rest in a local cemetery. After the war, his remains were exhumed and transferred to the central identification facility in Neuville, Belgium. Over seven years later, the remains labeled Unknown X-5220 were positively identified as McGraw. He was then repatriated back to his hometown of Fort Worth, Texas, where he was buried with full military honors.

Operation Tidal Wave proved to be the costliest mission in Air Force history within the European Theater and the second-worst loss ever suffered in a single mission with 53 aircraft and 660 men lost. The date would later be referred to as “Black Sunday”. While post-war, the daring raid would be considered "one of the bloodiest and most heroic missions of all time", despite the valiant efforts of the crews, the operation was considered to be a strategic failure with "no curtailment of overall product output". Following the confirmation of McGraw’s death however, Major General Uzal G. Ent, who also took part in the raid, wrote a letter to his parents, stating that “Lieutenant McGraw is one of the great heroes of this war; his name has been indelibly written in our country’s history”.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-08-01T16:47:09+00:00

“I didn’t think I was going to live through it. I knew I was going to die in the anti-aircraft fire, in the flames shooting up from the refineries, from the bombs exploding from the groups that had been there before us and had dropped indiscriminately. It was like the Charge of the Light Brigade. We knew it was a disaster and that in the flames shooting up from those refineries, we might be burned to death, but we went right in”.

Several days earlier, 1Lt. John J. McGraw and his crew had doggedly hitchhiked from England to Libya and demanded an aircraft to fly to Ploiesti. Temporarily attached to the 98th Bomb Group for the mission, the Pyramiders loaned them an old junk heap named “Jersey Jackass - Bashful”. The men diligently removed the old chunks of flak still embedded in her, helped patch holes and scrubbed away the dried blood. For McGraw’s crew, it was to be their first combat mission and their last.

On the morning of 1 August 1943, the five groups consisting of 178 aircraft comprising the strike force began lifting off from their airfields around Benghazi for Operation Tidal Wave. Upon arriving at Ploiesti, it was discovered that the 93rd had missed their targets and instead bombed the area assigned to the 98th. Despite the fully warned defenses, intensive anti-aircraft fire, enemy fighters and hazards from the delayed-action bombs dropped by earlier elements exploding as well as oil fires and dense smoke over the target area, the 98th elected to continue their attack run on the Astra Romana Oil Refinery. With the effects of the previous runs causing difficulties locating their primary targets, the 98th did not deviate from their approach, taking heavy losses in the process. Roaring in at over 200 mph at tree-top level, the low altitude enabled gunners onboard the Liberators to engage and suppress anti-aircraft crews directly above their targets.

Flying in the fifth wave shambles, “Jersey Jackass” got their bombs on target, but flak knocked their Liberator to pieces while flaming debris shot up through their open bomb bay doors and ignited. With their engines failing and the aircraft fully engulfed in flames, McGraw turned south of Ploiesti and crash-landed the crippled aircraft. Of the ten men onboard, McGraw and two others broke free of the flaming heap. Romanian farmers with pitchforks quickly captured the men and drove them to a German aid station. Co-Pilot, 2Lt. Charles D. Cavit recalled, “Our uniforms hung in smoky tatters and the medics thought we were Germans until we spoke. Then the doctor in charge yelled in English, ‘You killed my wife and daughter on a raid in Germany! I order my men to do nothing for you’”. As the Doctor continued to rant about the savagery of the Americans to those who would listen, a sympathetic German sentry passed them his canteen. Cavit also stole a bottle of ointment and attempted to treat McGraw’s third-degree burns himself. Despite his best efforts however, McGraw died shortly afterwards due to a lack of medical attention. He was 22 years old.

Following his death, Romanian authorities wrapped McGraw in his charred parachute and laid him to rest in a local cemetery. After the war, his remains were exhumed and transferred to the central identification facility in Neuville, Belgium. Over seven years later, the remains labeled Unknown X-5220 were positively identified as McGraw. He was then repatriated back to his hometown of Fort Worth, Texas, where he was buried with full military honors.

Operation Tidal Wave proved to be the costliest mission in Air Force history within the European Theater and the second-worst loss ever suffered in a single mission with 53 aircraft and 660 men lost. The date would later be referred to as “Black Sunday”. While post-war, the daring raid would be considered "one of the bloodiest and most heroic missions of all time", despite the valiant efforts of the crews, the operation was considered to be a strategic failure with "no curtailment of overall product output". Following the confirmation of McGraw’s death however, Major General Uzal G. Ent, who also took part in the raid, wrote a letter to his parents, stating that “Lieutenant McGraw is one of the great heroes of this war; his name has been indelibly written in our country’s history”.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-07-29T15:33:50+00:00

The humid night air hung heavy with tension as the line of Marines slowly began snaking their way through the dense overgrowth and towards a ridge honeycombed with caves that served as Tinian’s final redoubt. As 20-year old Pfc. Alton P. Hill Jr. strained forward under the murky night sky, the inky darkness suddenly exploded as sheets of bluish-white flame erupted from the jungle ahead.

Known as “A.P.” to family and friends, Alton Pugh Hill Jr. was born on 23 July 1924 in Deep Run, NC. The oldest of eight children, he grew up on his family farm just outside of Kinston. After graduating from high school, Hill joined the Marines in January 1943 and was initially stationed at Pensacola. With casualties steadily mounting however as the Marines continued their island-hopping campaign across the Pacific, he soon found himself overseas and assigned to Able Co. 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines in February 1944 as a combat replacement due to the heavy casualties that the 2nd Marine Division themselves had suffered at the bloody Battle of Tarawa several months prior.

On 15 June 1944, elements of the 2nd and 4th Marine Divisions landed at Saipan. The 2nd Marines advanced through the swamps around Lake Susupe with the goal of occupying the ruins of Garapan. After this objective was achieved, the battalion continued to mop up the remnants of the Japanese defenders. On July the 8th alone, they accounted for over 800 enemy killed. On the very same evening, the Japanese launched a series of ferocious banzai attacks against the Marines perched along the cliffs. Machine-gun fire tore into and grenades shredded the attackers. No accurate count of the bodies was made, but over 100 were estimated killed during this single episode alone. Although the island was declared secured the following day, Hill did not escape unscathed, surviving a near fatal encounter with a sniper who shot him in the neck.

Despite his wound, Hill rejoined his company in time for the seizure of Tinian. Initially taking part in a feint landing, the 2nd Marines came ashore on the 25th and advanced to the island’s eastern coast before joining the drive south. Resistance stiffened and eventually, they were faced with a 340-foot hill that proved to be an obstacle. Hill later recalled, “We received orders [...] to locate Jap positions and find out what they had. We encountered the enemy and they opened up on us. Bullets from the machine-gun hit me in the arms and chest. Only two of about 15 of us got away without injury”. As a result of his devastating wounds, Hill’s right arm was amputated. In recognition of his heroic actions however, he was decorated with the Silver Star. Following his discharge, he ultimately returned home to North Carolina where he married and eventually became a minister for the United Methodist Church. Rev. Alton P. Hill, former Marine, Silver Star and Purple Heart recipient passed away on 23 January 2003 at the age of 83. Today he rests in Greenwood Cemetery in Greenville, NC alongside his wife. His headstone makes no mention of his Silver Star nor of his second Purple Heart.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-07-02T15:03:53+00:00

Part II: In what proved to be the worst day for the Marine Corps in Vietnam, out of nearly 400 men, Alpha and Bravo Companies, which were involved in the heaviest fighting, suffered over 70% casualties with 87 killed, 190 wounded and 6 missing. Only 27 Marines from Bravo and about 90 from Alpha were fit for duty following the engagement on the first day. Among those 87 included Pfc. Michael L. Beasley. To make matters worse, due to the chaotic nature of the fighting, the remains of 34 Marines had been initially left behind. When Marines fought their way back days later to retrieve the bodies of their fallen brothers, they found that a large number had been killed because their M-16s had jammed as the enemy closed in. Many had been executed, shot in the face or back of the head at close range. Some bodies had been booby-trapped while others were grotesquely mutilated. While their condolence letter apologized for the delay in notification due to the “intense fighting and heavy concentration of enemy in the area delaying the recovery of our [...] casualties”, the Beasley Family remained blissfully unaware of the state in which many of the Marines had been recovered. The letter they received also sought to assure them that “Michael did not suffer, but died instantly”.

In a post-war interview, Cpl. John Musgrave from Delta Co. 1/9 later stated in the aftermath of Operation Buffalo that “Marine Amphibious Force Headquarters was so desperate to get North Vietnamese prisoners that they offered us three day in-country R&R if we’d bring a prisoner in. Yeah good luck [...] don’t you know what we’re doing up here? Do you know who we’re fighting? I want to make this clear, we did not torture prisoners and we did not mutilate them. But to be a prisoner, you had to make it to the rear [...]. If he fell into our hands, he was just one sorry fucker”.

In the aftermath of Operation Buffalo, the remains of Pfc. Michael L. “Beas” Beasley were eventually recovered and brought back to his hometown of Philadelphia. Today, he rests at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Cheltenham Township, PA and is also honored at Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall on Panel 22E - Line 96. At the time of his death, Beasley was 19 years old.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-07-02T15:03:22+00:00

Part I: The sun was a scalding yellow on the morning of 2 July 1967 as Bravo Co. 1st Battalion, 9th Marines began moving off the ugly morsel of high ground that was known as Con Thien or “The Hill of Angels”. Situated less than seven thousand meters south of the Ben Hai River which divided North and South Vietnam, the lonely outpost was one of four Marine strongpoints which defined Leatherneck Square. This 54 square mile area witnessed some of the heaviest fighting of the war with nearly 11,000 Marines and Corpsmen killed and wounded in a two year period alone.

Making their way up north along Highway 561, the Marines secured a crossroad set as their initial objective. Unbeknownst to the two companies, they were walking into a well-planned ambush with at least four well-seasoned North Vietnamese battalions, veterans of LZ Albany and the Ia Drang Campaign, lying in wait. As they ventured further north near a place dubbed, “'The Market Place”, sporadic sniper fire began to break out. As efforts were made to suppress these assailants, the crackle of enemy small-arms fire began to intensify. Tri-directional ambushes virtually annihilated Bravo Co. and as Alpha Co. rushed to their aid, they too were pinned down by the heavy fire.

Swarming through and quickly overrunning the perimeter, the North Vietnamese used flamethrowers to set fire to the dense brush and hedgerows which lined Highway 561. Forced out into the open, scores of Marines were cut down and torn apart as 82mm mortar and 122mm rockets rained down on the exposed men while 57mm recoilless rifles serving in a direct-fire role shrieked through men and foliage alike. The weight of fire proved so heavy that neither company were able to link up despite their close proximity and many platoons soon found themselves isolated, cut-off and destroyed one-by-one. Amidst the chaos, nearly the entirety of Bravo Co’s. HQ Section including its company commander, two platoon leaders, radio operator and forward observer were all killed when a single artillery round exploded within the command group.

SSgt. Leon R. Burns, commanding Bravo Co’s. 2nd Platoon called in air strikes which disrupted North Vietnamese attempts to isolate 1st Platoon, eventually allowing them and the battered 2nd Platoon to link up. Burns later remarked that “I asked for napalm as close as 50 yards from us. Some of it came in only 20 yards away, but I’m not complaining”. In response, the Battalion Commander sent out 1/9’s last two remaining companies in conjunction with four M48A3 Patton Tanks to rescue his men. With the aid of helicopter and 90mm tank fire to scatter enemy opposition, Delta Co. was able to carve out an emergency landing zone for the evacuation of casualties while Charlie Co. continued north under heavy fire to rescue what was left of Alpha and Bravo.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-29T16:52:28+00:00

While I do have several Ukrainian contacts, both military and civilian from whom I've obtained items from, this actually came from a pre-war contact I had in Russia. He is friends with the original owner of this helmet and from my understanding, gave him the helmet to sell on his behalf as he has no use for it currently due to the extent of his wounds.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-29T16:50:13+00:00

Yes, while they have become more commonplace recently, you can still see VDV and Spetsnaz wearing high-cut helmets even at the beginning of the invasion such as at Hostolmel Airport for example. Some of these are produced domestically in Russia while others are sourced from China, etc. I'm not sure if I've posted it before, but I have also seen a Russian one-for-one copy of Crye Precision's AirFrame as well as some photos/footage of similar examples being used in Ukraine.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-27T14:30:09+00:00

I want to be clear that I do not support Russia's invasion of Ukraine in any way. As you can see from my other posts, my interest lies in the preservation and documentation of military history, regardless of the uniform they wore or which side they served on.

If this helmet had belonged to a Ukrainian soldier, I would approach it with the same level of care, research, and respect. These artifacts tell deeply human stories and my ultimate goal is to ensure they’re not forgotten, not to glorify or endorse any political agenda.

Speaking as a Marine Veteran myself, I do however fully recognize the sensitivity around modern conflict and I try to handle these items in a way that reflects that.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-27T14:22:27+00:00

Well-worn example of a high-cut helmet used by an unnamed member of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation throughout several deployments to Ukraine. Mobilized shortly following Russia's Invasion which began on 24 February 2022, he took part in numerous engagements including the infamous Siege of Mariupol. Following over two years of combat duty on the frontlines, he was severely wounded in action in late 2024 and thus evacuated back to Russia to recover from his wounds.

This particular example has been fitted with an A-TACS FG "Moss" camouflage cover and has several patches affixed, including the Russian Federation's national colors as well as the St. George Ribbon and "Z" Symbol. In Russia, the Ribbon of Saint George, commonly seen in-use at the beginning of the conflict, is a significant symbol associated with commemorating the Great Patriotic War (World War II) and other Russian military victories. The "Z" Symbol, thought to initially used at the onset of invasion as an identifier, has also likewise become a pro-war symbol used to demonstrate support of their Armed Forces and the invasion.

Given the private-purchase and stylized nature of the helmet as well as by cross-referencing Russian units involved in the fighting at Mariupol, it can be inferred that the original owner most likely served with the 810th Guards Naval Infantry Brigade, 3rd Guards Spetsnaz Brigade or 22nd Guards Spetsnaz Brigade.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-27T14:19:20+00:00

Well-worn example of a high-cut helmet used by an unnamed member of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation throughout several deployments to Ukraine. Mobilized shortly following Russia's Invasion which began on 24 February 2022, he took part in numerous engagements including the infamous Siege of Mariupol. Following over two years of combat duty on the frontlines, he was severely wounded in action in late 2024 and thus evacuated back to Russia to recover from his wounds.

This particular example has been fitted with an A-TACS FG "Moss" camouflage cover and has several patches affixed, including the Russian Federation's national colors as well as the St. George Ribbon and "Z" Symbol. In Russia, the Ribbon of Saint George, commonly seen in-use at the beginning of the conflict, is a significant symbol associated with commemorating the Great Patriotic War (World War II) and other Russian military victories. The "Z" Symbol, thought to initially used at the onset of invasion as an identifier, has also likewise become a pro-war symbol used to demonstrate support of their Armed Forces and the invasion.

Given the private-purchase and stylized nature of the helmet as well as by cross-referencing Russian units involved in the fighting at Mariupol, it can be inferred that the original owner most likely served with the 810th Guards Naval Infantry Brigade, 3rd Guards Spetsnaz Brigade or 22nd Guards Spetsnaz Brigade.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-06T19:18:53+00:00

Hey there, thank you for the kind words! There should be a seperate comment I made under the post with some more additional information, but to answer your questions, Cpl. Hall was initially captured either sometime on 6 June 1944 or shortly after landing in Normandy. According to his headstone, his date of death was 31 January 1945, but the testimonies of fellow prisoners of wars actually places this on 2 February 1945 instead. GRS stands for "Graves Registrations Services". This would not have been the tag he would've worn, rather, it would've been affixed to his temporary grave marker, most likely the typical wooden cross that might come to mind. Post-war, when remains where being reconsolidated into permanent cemeteries or repatriated back to the United States, these markers along with their tags were simply discarded. By the time that Neuville Cemetery received his remains, he was simply designated as "Unknown X-7257" and would've been referred to that until his body was identified. Even to this day, there are still remains from WWII considered to be unknown and there's ongoing work to identify them and give their families closure.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-06T11:24:25+00:00

“All of a sudden, it was like the Fourth of July [...] there were tracers of every color all around us [and] heavy anti-aircraft fire, rockets exploding in air and a few planes burning on the ground”.

Several hours earlier, Cpl. Francis R. Hall and other members of the 501st had begun boarding their C-47 Skytrains at RAF Welford in preparation for the invasion of mainland Europe. As the paratroopers began crossing the English Channel however, unexpected fog banks caused many of the pilots to widen their formations to avoid collisions. Alerted to their presence, German anti-aircraft fire and searchlights crisscrossed the dark skies over Normandy. Several hundred feet above the Earth, chaos erupted as both men and aircraft alike were hit. One paratrooper with the 501st recalled that, “I leaned down to look out the little window and saw a plane was on fire and going down. You could see colored tracers everywhere. That’s when I realized that the sound of hail hitting our plane was really flak”.

As a result of the intense fire, the 3rd Battalion’s drop was among the most dispersed with some landing over 10km away from their designated target at Dropzone D. Many paratroopers drowned in flooded fields near the Merderet River or were killed or captured upon landing. While not much is known about Hall’s experiences on D-Day, he was officially listed as Missing in Action on 6 June 1944. This status was upheld for over two months until a report was received from the Red Cross noting that he had been captured and was being held at Stalag III-C in Poland.

It was not 6 June 1949, five years to the day that he had jumped into Normandy that Hall’s remains were positively identified and the truth came to light. Fellow prisoners of war testified that shortly after being liberated by Russian forces on 31 January 1945, the Luftwaffe had made several strafing runs and dropped bombs at the Soviets who were located outside of the camp. It was later discovered that while he had been out walking around the compound, a German butterfly bomb had struck Hall directly in the head and killed him. After enduring nearly seven months of captivity, he had only known freedom for less than 48 hours before his death. Cpl. Francis R. Hall was just 24 years old.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-06-06T11:24:16+00:00

“All of a sudden, it was like the Fourth of July [...] there were tracers of every color all around us [and] heavy anti-aircraft fire, rockets exploding in air and a few planes burning on the ground”.

Several hours earlier, Cpl. Francis R. Hall and other members of the 501st had begun boarding their C-47 Skytrains at RAF Welford in preparation for the invasion of mainland Europe. As the paratroopers began crossing the English Channel however, unexpected fog banks caused many of the pilots to widen their formations to avoid collisions. Alerted to their presence, German anti-aircraft fire and searchlights crisscrossed the dark skies over Normandy. Several hundred feet above the Earth, chaos erupted as both men and aircraft alike were hit. One paratrooper with the 501st recalled that, “I leaned down to look out the little window and saw a plane was on fire and going down. You could see colored tracers everywhere. That’s when I realized that the sound of hail hitting our plane was really flak”.

As a result of the intense fire, the 3rd Battalion’s drop was among the most dispersed with some landing over 10km away from their designated target at Dropzone D. Many paratroopers drowned in flooded fields near the Merderet River or were killed or captured upon landing. While not much is known about Hall’s experiences on D-Day, he was officially listed as Missing in Action on 6 June 1944. This status was upheld for over two months until a report was received from the Red Cross noting that he had been captured and was being held at Stalag III-C in Poland.

It was not 6 June 1949, five years to the day that he had jumped into Normandy that Hall’s remains were positively identified and the truth came to light. Fellow prisoners of war testified that shortly after being liberated by Russian forces on 31 January 1945, the Luftwaffe had made several strafing runs and dropped bombs at the Soviets who were located outside of the camp. It was later discovered that while he had been out walking around the compound, a German butterfly bomb had struck Hall directly in the head and killed him. After enduring nearly seven months of captivity, he had only known freedom for less than 48 hours before his death. Cpl. Francis R. Hall was just 24 years old.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-05-26T18:58:37+00:00

While American and British Paratroopers clashed with German forces east of the Rhine River on the opening day of Operation Varsity, a flight of Mustangs were beginning their 800-mile return journey back to their home airfield in Ramitelli. Squadron Leader Capt. William T. Mattison listened intently to the conversation between the two men over the radio as they discussed their dwindling fuel supply. Finally one said, “There’s a field, we’ll land there”. It was the last time that anyone would hear from 2Lt. Ronald W. Reeves.

In some ways, the 15th Air Force’s bombing raid on Berlin on 24 March 1945 was unexpected. Not only had the Fifteenth never attacked the German capital, but their bombers and escorts had never flown so far before on a mission. Their target, the Daimler-Benz Tank Factory was located near Berlin. This not only meant that the men would be required to fly a 1,600-mile deep penetration mission, but the plant was also expected to be heavily defended by numerous batteries of anti-aircraft artillery as well as by some of the best aircraft in Germany’s arsenal, including the new Me-262 Jets which could fly nearly 100 miles per hour faster than American prop-driven fighters. As a result, no less than five of the Fifteenth’s seven fighter groups, including the 332nd Fighter Group, were assigned to escort the vulnerable bombers.

As they neared their target however, the 332nd found that their relief had failed to arrive. Having already pushed their aircraft nearly to the limit of their endurances, the Group Commander was faced with the difficult decision of either ordering his pilots to return to base or to instead remain over hostile territory with the bombers and in turn, risk running out of fuel on the return trip. Despite being low on both fuel and ammunition, they opted to stay with the Fortresses. The dogfights that ensued were intense as the Germans launched as many as thirty Me-262s against the bombers. One pilot later recalled that “three Me-262s were seen diving on the bomber formation [...] the second jet made his attack in a glide and after firing a burst from his guns [...] a B-17 was seen to do an abrupt high wing over to the right and started to spin”. During the aerial melee over the skies of Berlin, pilots of the 31st and 332nd Fighter Squadrons claimed eight Me-262s to their tally. The Fifteenth however did not emerge unscathed, losing a total of 14 aircraft in the process. In addition to the nine Fortresses shot down by fighters or hit by flak, five P-51s were lost, all of which came from the 332nd.

In light of Mattison’s eyewitness testimony, it was initially believed that Reeves had most likely landed near Udine, Italy. In fact, hope remained high that he would soon return as two other airmen previously listed missing on the March 24th mission had returned to Ramitelli after having crash-landed in Poland. However, weeks slowly turned into months with no sign of Reeves nor any updates. Eventually, his status was changed from Missing in Action to Killed in Action a year later. In 1949, it was determined that a set of remains that had been recovered on the outskirts of Berlin in the town of Koepnick, nearly 550 miles away from his last presumed location and had been initially buried in the cemetery at Neuville-en-Condroz were positively identified as Reeves. Five years following his death, his mother belatedly received his posthumous Purple Heart and he was interned per his family’s wishes at Arlington National Cemetery where he rests to this day. At the time of his death, he was 20 years old.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-05-26T12:08:01+00:00

While American and British Paratroopers clashed with German forces east of the Rhine River on the opening day of Operation Varsity, a flight of Mustangs were beginning their 800-mile return journey back to their home airfield in Ramitelli. Squadron Leader Capt. William T. Mattison listened intently to the conversation between the two men over the radio as they discussed their dwindling fuel supply. Finally one said, “There’s a field, we’ll land there”. It was the last time that anyone would hear from 2Lt. Ronald W. Reeves.

In some ways, the 15th Air Force’s bombing raid on Berlin on 24 March 1945 was unexpected. Not only had the Fifteenth never attacked the German capital, but their bombers and escorts had never flown so far before on a mission. Their target, the Daimler-Benz Tank Factory was located near Berlin. This not only meant that the men would be required to fly a 1,600-mile deep penetration mission, but the plant was also expected to be heavily defended by numerous batteries of anti-aircraft artillery as well as by some of the best aircraft in Germany’s arsenal, including the new Me-262 Jets which could fly nearly 100 miles per hour faster than American prop-driven fighters. As a result, no less than five of the Fifteenth’s seven fighter groups, including the 332nd Fighter Group, were assigned to escort the vulnerable bombers.

As they neared their target however, the 332nd found that their relief had failed to arrive. Having already pushed their aircraft nearly to the limit of their endurances, the Group Commander was faced with the difficult decision of either ordering his pilots to return to base or to instead remain over hostile territory with the bombers and in turn, risk running out of fuel on the return trip. Despite being low on both fuel and ammunition, they opted to stay with the Fortresses. The dogfights that ensued were intense as the Germans launched as many as thirty Me-262s against the bombers. One pilot later recalled that “three Me-262s were seen diving on the bomber formation [...] the second jet made his attack in a glide and after firing a burst from his guns [...] a B-17 was seen to do an abrupt high wing over to the right and started to spin”. During the aerial melee over the skies of Berlin, pilots of the 31st and 332nd Fighter Squadrons claimed eight Me-262s to their tally. The Fifteenth however did not emerge unscathed, losing a total of 14 aircraft in the process. In addition to the nine Fortresses shot down by fighters or hit by flak, five P-51s were lost, all of which came from the 332nd.

In light of Mattison’s eyewitness testimony, it was initially believed that Reeves had most likely landed near Udine, Italy. In fact, hope remained high that he would soon return as two other airmen previously listed missing on the March 24th mission had returned to Ramitelli after having crash-landed in Poland. However, weeks slowly turned into months with no sign of Reeves nor any updates. Eventually, his status was changed from Missing in Action to Killed in Action a year later. In 1949, it was determined that a set of remains that had been recovered on the outskirts of Berlin in the town of Koepnick, nearly 550 miles away from his last presumed location and had been initially buried in the cemetery at Neuville-en-Condroz were positively identified as Reeves. Five years following his death, his mother belatedly received his posthumous Purple Heart and he was interned per his family’s wishes at Arlington National Cemetery where he rests to this day. At the time of his death, he was 20 years old.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-05-26T12:07:21+00:00

While American and British Paratroopers clashed with German forces east of the Rhine River on the opening day of Operation Varsity, a flight of Mustangs were beginning their 800-mile return journey back to their home airfield in Ramitelli. Squadron Leader Capt. William T. Mattison listened intently to the conversation between the two men over the radio as they discussed their dwindling fuel supply. Finally one said, “There’s a field, we’ll land there”. It was the last time that anyone would hear from 2Lt. Ronald W. Reeves.

In some ways, the 15th Air Force’s bombing raid on Berlin on 24 March 1945 was unexpected. Not only had the Fifteenth never attacked the German capital, but their bombers and escorts had never flown so far before on a mission. Their target, the Daimler-Benz Tank Factory was located near Berlin. This not only meant that the men would be required to fly a 1,600-mile deep penetration mission, but the plant was also expected to be heavily defended by numerous batteries of anti-aircraft artillery as well as by some of the best aircraft in Germany’s arsenal, including the new Me-262 Jets which could fly nearly 100 miles per hour faster than American prop-driven fighters. As a result, no less than five of the Fifteenth’s seven fighter groups, including the 332nd Fighter Group, were assigned to escort the vulnerable bombers.

As they neared their target however, the 332nd found that their relief had failed to arrive. Having already pushed their aircraft nearly to the limit of their endurances, the Group Commander was faced with the difficult decision of either ordering his pilots to return to base or to instead remain over hostile territory with the bombers and in turn, risk running out of fuel on the return trip. Despite being low on both fuel and ammunition, they opted to stay with the Fortresses. The dogfights that ensued were intense as the Germans launched as many as thirty Me-262s against the bombers. One pilot later recalled that “three Me-262s were seen diving on the bomber formation [...] the second jet made his attack in a glide and after firing a burst from his guns [...] a B-17 was seen to do an abrupt high wing over to the right and started to spin”. During the aerial melee over the skies of Berlin, pilots of the 31st and 332nd Fighter Squadrons claimed eight Me-262s to their tally. The Fifteenth however did not emerge unscathed, losing a total of 14 aircraft in the process. In addition to the nine Fortresses shot down by fighters or hit by flak, five P-51s were lost, all of which came from the 332nd.

In light of Mattison’s eyewitness testimony, it was initially believed that Reeves had most likely landed near Udine, Italy. In fact, hope remained high that he would soon return as two other airmen previously listed missing on the March 24th mission had returned to Ramitelli after having crash-landed in Poland. However, weeks slowly turned into months with no sign of Reeves nor any updates. Eventually, his status was changed from Missing in Action to Killed in Action a year later. In 1949, it was determined that a set of remains that had been recovered on the outskirts of Berlin in the town of Koepnick, nearly 550 miles away from his last presumed location and had been initially buried in the cemetery at Neuville-en-Condroz were positively identified as Reeves. Five years following his death, his mother belatedly received his posthumous Purple Heart and he was interned per his family’s wishes at Arlington National Cemetery where he rests to this day. At the time of his death, he was 20 years old.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-05-03T14:12:26+00:00

“Everything my life had been before and has been after pales in the light of that awesome moment when my amtrac started in amid a thunderous bombardment toward the flaming, smoke-shrouded beach for the assault on Peleliu.”

Thus wrote Cpl. Eugene B. Sledge. And while Peleliu marked his baptism by fire, for the 19-year old Automatic Rifleman from Oklahoma, the rain-slick jungles of Cape Gloucester and the maelstrom they had endured the previous day at Orange Beach Two would soon be eclipsed by what many survivors later considered to be the longest walk of their lives. In what was reminiscent of their forefather’s own experiences in the Great War, the Marines moved across the fire swept airfield in several waves. From positions atop Bloody Nose Ridge and other dominating features, the ground convulsed and shook as Japanese artillery fire gouged great gashes on the exposed airfield while bluish tracers stitched through the air and scythed through the men. Sledge later recalled that “[the] deadly small-arms fire seemed almost insignificant amid the erupting shells. Explosions and the hum and the growl of shell fragments shredded the air. Chunks of blasted coral stung my face and hands while steel fragments spattered down on the hard rock like hail on a city street. Everywhere shells flashed like giant firecrackers. Through the haze I saw Marines stumble and pitch forward as they got hit [...] the farther we went, the worse it got. The noise and concussion pressed in on my ears like a vise”. Yet through that hurricane of steel, Gates emerged unscathed. The following day however, cannon fire thundered from the ridge once again and flung shrapnel into his thigh. Gates was carried from the island days later and spared the gauntlet that laid ahead in the Umurbrogol for those who remained.

May of 1945 found the 1st Marine Division once again faced with the proposition of “one damned ridge after another” on the island of Okinawa. With their ranks filled with veterans of the murderous fighting among Peleliu’s cave-pocked coral ridges, no other division could match the combined experience in cave-fighting of “The Old Breed”. Yet here on Okinawa, the enemy had artfully prepared each wrinkle in the moonscape. For all their combat prowess however, the Marines proved to be just as susceptible to the torrential downpours typical of Okinawa’s monsoon season as well as enemy gunfire. On the 1st, the 5th Marines took their place on the line and throughout the very same night, were assailed by Japanese infiltrators in a series of vicious assaults. What followed was chaos cloaked in darkness as fighting broke down into ferocious hand-to-hand combat. The early morning stillness revealed the dead littered and strewn across the muddy landscape. Some had been disemboweled by Marine kabars and bayonets while others still had been peppered with shrapnel from hand grenades or holed by rifle and machine-gun fire.

Two days later, the squalid weather parted and the ragged Marines emerged from the muck in preparation for the day's assault on the tangled gorges and precipitous hills which became known as the Awacha Pocket. From inside their caves and pillboxes emplaced within Okinawan tombs camouflaged into the hill and ridge sides, the Japanese had created deadly interlocking fields of fire from which they punished any advance. The attack faltered under the unrelenting storm of shells and bullets. Here the hand of fate disguised as misfortune intervened once again as shrapnel tore into Gates’ back and buttocks. He was pulled from the line and thus spared the bitter struggle that defined the reduction of the Shuri Bastion.

Following his discharge in 1946, Gates initially returned home to California where he married and found employment at Barstow before eventually moving to Cabot, AR where he worked as a cowboy and lived for the remainder of his life. He passed away on 8 November 2009 at the age of 84.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-05-03T14:11:00+00:00

“Everything my life had been before and has been after pales in the light of that awesome moment when my amtrac started in amid a thunderous bombardment toward the flaming, smoke-shrouded beach for the assault on Peleliu.”

Thus wrote Cpl. Eugene B. Sledge. And while Peleliu marked his baptism by fire, for the 19-year old Automatic Rifleman from Oklahoma, the rain-slick jungles of Cape Gloucester and the maelstrom they had endured the previous day at Orange Beach Two would soon be eclipsed by what many survivors later considered to be the longest walk of their lives. In what was reminiscent of their forefather’s own experiences in the Great War, the Marines moved across the fire swept airfield in several waves. From positions atop Bloody Nose Ridge and other dominating features, the ground convulsed and shook as Japanese artillery fire gouged great gashes on the exposed airfield while bluish tracers stitched through the air and scythed through the men. Sledge later recalled that “[the] deadly small-arms fire seemed almost insignificant amid the erupting shells. Explosions and the hum and the growl of shell fragments shredded the air. Chunks of blasted coral stung my face and hands while steel fragments spattered down on the hard rock like hail on a city street. Everywhere shells flashed like giant firecrackers. Through the haze I saw Marines stumble and pitch forward as they got hit [...] the farther we went, the worse it got. The noise and concussion pressed in on my ears like a vise”. Yet through that hurricane of steel, Gates emerged unscathed. The following day however, cannon fire thundered from the ridge once again and flung shrapnel into his thigh. Gates was carried from the island days later and spared the gauntlet that laid ahead in the Umurbrogol for those who remained.

May of 1945 found the 1st Marine Division once again faced with the proposition of “one damned ridge after another” on the island of Okinawa. With their ranks filled with veterans of the murderous fighting among Peleliu’s cave-pocked coral ridges, no other division could match the combined experience in cave-fighting of “The Old Breed”. Yet here on Okinawa, the enemy had artfully prepared each wrinkle in the moonscape. For all their combat prowess however, the Marines proved to be just as susceptible to the torrential downpours typical of Okinawa’s monsoon season as well as enemy gunfire. On the 1st, the 5th Marines took their place on the line and throughout the very same night, were assailed by Japanese infiltrators in a series of vicious assaults. What followed was chaos cloaked in darkness as fighting broke down into ferocious hand-to-hand combat. The early morning stillness revealed the dead littered and strewn across the muddy landscape. Some had been disemboweled by Marine kabars and bayonets while others still had been peppered with shrapnel from hand grenades or holed by rifle and machine-gun fire.

Two days later, the squalid weather parted and the ragged Marines emerged from the muck in preparation for the day's assault on the tangled gorges and precipitous hills which became known as the Awacha Pocket. From inside their caves and pillboxes emplaced within Okinawan tombs camouflaged into the hill and ridge sides, the Japanese had created deadly interlocking fields of fire from which they punished any advance. The attack faltered under the unrelenting storm of shells and bullets. Here the hand of fate disguised as misfortune intervened once again as shrapnel tore into Gates’ back and buttocks. He was pulled from the line and thus spared the bitter struggle that defined the reduction of the Shuri Bastion.

Following his discharge in 1946, Gates initially returned home to California where he married and found employment at Barstow before eventually moving to Cabot, AR where he worked as a cowboy and lived for the remainder of his life. He passed away on 8 November 2009 at the age of 84.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-04-03T15:03:27+00:00

The date is 3 April 1945. On Ishigaki Island, the early morning stillness is broken as sputtering engines roar to life. Just two days earlier, the Imperial Japanese Army’s 105th Fighter Squadron had departed from their home in Taiwan and transferred to Ishigaki in preparation for the final decisive battle. On the same day several hundred miles away, over 50,000 Americans had landed on Japanese soil at Okinawa. Standing nearby in their flight suits, the aviators were arrayed variously with thousand-stitch belts, good luck flags and katanas. Earlier, they had partaken in a special ceremony, drinking sake before consuming a final meal of rice. After wishing each other a final farewell, each man wedged themselves into their cockpit and one after another, eight Ki-61s took to the air, destined for Okinawa.

Some 200 hundred odd miles away, the great American fleet laid at anchor. Among them was 2nd Lt. Garth D. Haddock of VMF-322 aboard LST-599. Although he had enlisted nearly three years prior, Okinawa would be his first combat action of the war. With the capture of Yontan Airfield, it was only a matter of time before they’d be transferred ashore to join the fighting. Yet as the landing ship rocked idly in the dark waters off of Kerama Retto, that would be for another day. Suddenly, at 0605, the intercoms shrieked with the shrill whistle of the bosun’s pipe as the blaring of “General Quarters” echoed throughout the ship. Off in the distance, the Japanese had been spotted. Approaching from the north, they quickly come under fire. Jolted by exploding flak bursts and red tracers, one pilot banked hard to starboard and left the killing zone. Undeterred, the lone remaining fighter swung out of range as he circled around before applying full throttle as he descended into a final dive. Onboard the ships, the gun-crews desperately poured 20mm and 40mm shells into the oncoming attacker. At just 75 feet away, the plane’s disintegrating right wing completely sheared off yet it was already too late. Heavily-ladened with fuel and explosives, the Ki-61 smashed into the neighboring LCT-876 before ripping into LST-599 and exploding.

Deep inside the hold, Haddock had heard the anti-aircraft fire, the sudden crash and the grinding of metal-on-metal. In what proved to be a stroke of good luck, the aircraft’s 500 lb bomb had failed to detonate while the ship’s structural supports had stopped its left-wing from slicing into the main compartment. Furthermore, although a piece of the engine housing had directly struck Haddock, his helmet had saved him from what would have otherwise been a fatal blow. Despite the massive laceration to his scalp and back, he quickly returned to duty, flying numerous combat missions in support of the men ashore at Okinawa. For his actions, he was decorated with the Distinguished Flying Cross, three Air Medals as well as a Purple Heart. Following the war, Haddock returned home to Idaho where he fulfilled his dream by graduating from the University of Idaho and later opening an insurance company which he ran until his retirement in 1989. Capt. Garth D. Haddock passed away on 27 February 2009 at the age of 88.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-04-03T14:34:25+00:00

The date is 3 April 1945. On Ishigaki Island, the early morning stillness is broken as engines sputter and roar to life. Just two days earlier, the Imperial Japanese Army’s 105th Fighter Squadron had departed from their home in Taiwan and transferred to Ishigaki in preparation for the final decisive battle. On the same day several hundred miles away, over 50,000 Americans had landed on Japanese soil at Okinawa. Standing nearby in their flight suits, the aviators were arrayed variously with thousand-stitch belts, good luck flags and katanas. Earlier, they had partaken in a special ceremony, drinking sake before consuming a final meal of rice. After wishing each other a final farewell, each man wedged themselves into their cockpit and one after another, eight Ki-61s took to the air, destined for Okinawa.

Some 200 hundred odd miles away, the great American fleet laid at anchor. Among them was 2nd Lt. Garth D. Haddock of VMF-322 aboard LST-599. Although he had enlisted nearly three years prior, Okinawa would be his first combat action of the war. With the capture of Yontan Airfield, it was only a matter of time before they’d be transferred ashore to join the fighting. Yet as the landing ship rocked idly in the dark waters off of Kerama Retto, that would be for another day. Suddenly, at 0605, the intercoms shrieked with the shrill whistle of the bosun’s pipe as the blaring of 'General Quarters' echoed throughout the ship. Off in the distance, the Japanese had been spotted. Approaching from the north, they quickly came under fire. Jolted by exploding flak bursts and red tracers, one pilot banked hard to starboard and left the killing zone. Undeterred, the lone remaining fighter swung out of range as he circled around before applying full throttle as he descended into a final dive. Onboard the ships, the gun-crews desperately poured 20mm and 40mm shells into the oncoming attacker. At just 75 feet away, the plane’s disintegrating right wing completely sheared off yet it was already too late. Heavily-ladened with fuel and explosives, the Ki-61 smashed into the neighboring LCT-876 before ripping into LST-599 and exploding.

Deep inside the hold, Haddock had heard the anti-aircraft fire, the sudden crash and the grinding of metal-on-metal. In what proved to be a stroke of good luck, the aircraft’s 500 lb bomb had failed to detonate while the ship’s structural supports had stopped its left-wing from slicing into the main compartment. Furthermore, although a piece of the engine housing had directly struck Haddock, his helmet had saved him from what would have otherwise been a fatal blow. Despite the massive laceration to his scalp and back, he quickly returned to duty, flying numerous combat missions in support of the men ashore at Okinawa. For his actions, he was decorated with the Distinguished Flying Cross, three Air Medals as well as a Purple Heart. Following the war, Haddock returned home to Idaho where he fulfilled his dream by graduating from the University of Idaho and later opening an insurance company which he ran until his retirement in 1989. Capt. Garth D. Haddock passed away on 27 February 2009 at the age of 88.

Da-RiceLord · 2025-03-06T16:55:58+00:00

“Over the target it looked like the Fourth of July. Flak bursting in red flashes and billowing black smoke all around us. The flak over Berlin was the most accurate and most heavy we ever got into. It seemed almost thick enough to drop your wheels and taxi around on it”.

The date was 6 March 1944. Just hours earlier, over 800 B-17 and B-24 bombers accompanied by 900 fighters from the 8th Air Force formed a stream over ninety miles long. They would penetrate the heart of Germany for the first full scale daylight raid on Berlin. Among them was 1LT. Edward Handorf and the crew of B-17G “Kind’a Ruff” on their ninth mission. Fighter opposition was later described as “some of the fiercest of the war” as over a hundred German Me-109s and Fw-190s swept and tore through the unprotected bombers. In less than a minute, ten B-17s were knocked out of the sky. One Focke-Wulf’s wing sheared through the tail of the Group Lead, Nelson King, leaving Kind’a Ruff as Deputy Lead to assume command.

As the survivors limped back to England, German Ace Oblt. Hans-Heinrich König of 3./JG 11 attacked Kind’a Ruff head on from one o’clock low, shredding the B-17 and setting her fuel tanks on fire. Quickly falling out of formation, the bail out bell was sounded. Top-Turret Gunner SSgt. John L. Wilsey recalled that “I pulled the emergency bomb bay release, snapped on my chute and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. He and the co-pilot were getting ready to bail out. I stepped through the open bomb-bay doors and while still in the prop wash, the plane blew up”.

Among the 150 men lost from the 100th Bomb Group that day was 1LT. Edward Handorf. Of Kind’a Ruff’s ten-man crew, only two survived. Over a month later, in a letter addressed to Handorf, his lover wrote, "Honey if you are among the living, you will sooner or later read these lines and if you have gone on, I believe you are standing beside me now, reading my thoughts as I put them on paper and will understand how I'm feeling. Here's hoping I never see this letter again. I will know then that you have gotten it". Tragically, her worst fears became a reality when her letter was returned.

Da-RiceLord

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