On November 16, 1943, on my seventeenth birthday, I enlisted in the Marine Corps in Springfield, Illinois. I was sent to the Marine Recruit Depot in San Diego for basic training. Following basic training I was assigned to serve with F (Fox) Company, 2nd Battalion, 26th Marine Regiment, which was one of three infantry regiments that comprised the 5th Marine Division. At that time the 5th Division was based at Camp Pendleton, California. A few months later the 26th Regiment was detached from the 5th Division and was sent to serve as the floating reserve unit for the invasion of Guam. Since the Guam operation went smoothly the 26th Regiment was not used and was sent back to the Island of Hawaii where we reactivated Camp Tarawa, which was originally constructed by the Second Marine Division, in the mountains near Kamuela, Hawaii. We were reunited there with the rest of the 5th Division. The two things I remember most about Camp Tarawa were first that it was located on the Parker Ranch. The Parker Ranch is the second largest cattle ranch in the world. The second thing was the wind. The wind would whip up the volcanic ash and then the clouds would drift through the camp and everything would be covered with volcanic mud. It was an ideal location for a Marine base. We trained on the islands of Hawaii and Maui till the end of 1944. We were loaded aboard ship in Hilo, Hawaii a few days before Christmas 1944. Our first stop was Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. As we sailed into Pearl all hands were piped on deck and we stood at attention as we sailed past the remains of the battleship Arizona. I remember the event because it was so quiet it was eerie. After that no one had to tell us what we were expected to do when we encountered the Japanese.
We left Hawaii and stopped briefly at Kwajilein and Eniwetok Atolls. We then proceeded via Saipan to Iwo Jima. We arrived off of Iwo Jima during the evening hours of February 18, 1945. The next morning when the sun rose the Navy began a bombardment of the island. As naïve as I was I didn’t see how anyone could have survived the naval bombardment. As it turned out all they did was retreat to their caves, which were deep underground, and waited for the bombardment to stop. As far as I know very few Japanese were killed or wounded by the aerial and naval bombardments that preceded the landing on Iwo Jima. In retrospect all the bombardments may have done was to make the island’s defenders mad.
My company landed early in the afternoon of February 19, 1945. The trip to shore was quite an experience. The coxswain who was running the Higgins boat I was in decided to pass by the stern of the battleship North Carolina while all the rest of the Higgins boats in our group passed by the bow. Of course we were signaled to join up which meant we had to sail down the port side of the North Carolina as it was firing point blank sixteen-inch gun salvos. We were less that 100 yards to port when the North Carolina fired a three gun salvo. My first impression was that the world had come to an end and then we were hit by the concussion wave and I was sure it had. I don’t know how we survived but we did. We told the coxswain, at gunpoint, to get us the hell out of there if he planned on going home after the war. F-2-26 landed in about the sixth wave. We didn’t miss anything since the beach was crowded with men from the earlier waves – dead, wounded, and just plain hunkered down and scared. We joined the melee. We took our first casualty, GySgt. Wilbur Fulmer, as soon as we landed. He was wounded from a mortar shell as he stepped off the ramp of his Higgins boat. As he lay on the ground, at the water’s edge, he said, “Which one of you sons-of-bitches did it?” It seems there had been a rumor, which he had heard, to the effect that Gunny Fulmer would never make it off the beach. To this day he still thinks one of use shot him which common sense and the doctors who treated him could have told him wasn’t true.
Since common sense dictated that staying on the beach would get one killed, I got the hell out ASAP. As I bugged out, the Beach Master handed me a twenty-five pound satchel charge and told me to take it inland with me. Since a stray bullet could ignite a satchel charge I dropped mine with the first group of guys who looked like combat engineers. My mother didn’t raise any dumb children. The first day we made it across the narrow end of the island, just to the north of Mount Suribachi and to the south of Motoyama Airfield #1. The Japs had a field day that day and for several days after. They shot at us from both sides and all we could do was pray. While I’m on the subject of prayer I can assure you that the expression “There ain’t no atheists in foxholes” if not 100% true is about 99% true. Every night on Iwo Jima we thanked God for letting us make it through the day and every morning we thanked God for letting us make it through the night. After awhile the question wasn’t would you be wounded, the question was when and how bad. F-2-26 had the dubious distinction of having had the highest casualty rate of any rifle company on Iwo Jima. Of 255 men all but 10 or so received a Purple Heart, and 67 made the ultimate sacrifice. Two of F Company’s men, Pfc. Franklin Sigler and PhM. George Wahlen, received the Medal of Honor.
For twelve days is was the same thing over and over. Dig in, get shelled and be fired on, have your foxhole cave in on you, see your buddies shot, blown up, and killed and do the same thing over again. To break the monotony I started smoking and didn’t stop for over fifty years. If cigarettes would really hurt you would the U.S. Government have put them in our K rations?
On the evening of March 3, 1945 I shared a foxhole with Cpl. Oscar King and Pfc. John Repko.
Following a six hundred yard advance across a broad valley into rocky terrain on the morning of March 3, 1945 (D plus 13) my company sustained heavy casualties in close combat with the Japanese. That day I shot a Japanese Nambu gunner from about two feet away. The 600-yard advance by F Company was the largest of the entire Iwo Jima operation. By evening my platoon (1st Platoon) consisted of about 15 men. Since we had an odd number of men it was decided that one foxhole, the one I shared with Cpl. King and Pfc. Repko would contain three men. The attached diagram shows the location of my foxhole rela-tive to certain geographical features and how Cpl. King, Pfc. Repko and I were situated in the foxhole. It was decided that with three men in the foxhole we would use a two-men on one-man off rotation during the night. I was awake from 2000 hours till 2400 hours, first with Pfc. Repko from 2000 hours to 2200 hours and then with Cpl. King from 2200 hours to 2400 hours. At 2400 hours (midnight) I gave my wristwatch, which had a luminous dial, to Cpl. King and took my turn at trying to rest. I do not know if I was asleep or just dozing when at about 0100 hours I was struck by something that hit me on my right side in the area of my hip. I immediately realized it was a live hand grenade. I could not see it in the dark but I could hear it and realized it was to my right. Using my hands and feet I lifted and propelled myself in the direction of grenade. At the same time I shouted either "Look out!" or "Grenade!” The grenade exploded just as I came down on it. I was blown into the air. Shortly after I came down I saw Cpl. King and Pfc. Repko helping one another from our foxhole. They moved away down the sloping ground to the left. I picked up my weapon, an M-1 carbine (my M-1 rifle had been de-stroyed a few days earlier by a mortar shell and a carbine was the only available weapon). I struggled to my knees and fired into the ravine in front of my foxhole. I fired until I emptied the magazine. Then I grabbed my carbine by the barrel and flung it into the ravine in rage. In doing so I seared my hand since the barrel was very hot. After the grenade exploded and I began firing, a machine gun position located to the right of my foxhole began firing.
I tried to stand but could not so I used my arms and hands to drag myself out of the foxhole in the direction of a another foxhole, located about five or ten yards to the South, which was occupied by Cpl. Jewel Gaither and Pfc. Bill Goodling. I shouted who I was so they would not shoot me and dragged myself with their help into their foxhole.
Since I was bleeding profusely they placed me on a poncho and covered me with a second poncho so that Pfc. Goodling could get under the second poncho and use a light to examine my wound. I will always remember how solicitous Pfc. Goodling was after he examined me. My greatest concern was that I did not have a weapon and that if the Japanese attacked I would have no way to defend myself. Throughout the remainder of the night I repeatedly made Cpl. Gaither and Pfc. Goodling promise that if they were forced to withdraw that they would prop me up and leave me a weapon so I could defend myself. At about 0700 hours a stretcher team came and I was moved to the battalion aid station where I was given some morphine to ease my pain.
At the battalion aid station I was set to one side since I assume they felt my case was hopeless. A chaplain came by and spoke to me. I lay there for a long time and the same chaplain came again and said, "Are you still here?” He stopped a Jeep ambulance, which was being used to evacuate injured Marine to the main aid station at the south-ern end of Motoyama Airfield #1 near the base of Mount Suribachi. When I arrived there I was taken into a large tent and examined by two doctors. One said to the other "He won't make it". I opened my eyes and said "The hell he won't". The doctor who had made the statement said "Do you really feel that way?" and when I responded "Yes" he said "Put him on the plane". I was air evacuated to the Island of Guam.
When the medical evacuation plane arrived at Guam I was put in the Naval Air Station Infirmary since it was judged that I might not stand the trip to the main hospital. I was first operated upon at the Infirmary. When my condition had stabilized I was moved to the main hospital on Guam. From there I was air evacuat-ed to the Naval Hospital at Pearl Harbor. I was next evacuated by ship to the Naval Hospital in Oakland California. While in Oak-land I was one of a number of Marines who, as a result of receiv-ing contaminated whole blood on Iwo Jima, all contracted infectious hepatitis. I spent two weeks in a coma and was one of only two or so who survived. I was at the Oak Knoll Naval Hospital in Oakland, CA when first Germany and then Japan surrendered and the war ended. While at the Oak Knoll Hospital I met and became a friend of Mrs. Chester W. Nimitz. Next I was flown to the Great Lakes Naval Hospital where I remained until March of 1947 when I received an honorable medical discharge. All in all I spent two years in five Naval Hospitals.
One day in late 1946 or early 1947 the doctors in charge of my case at the Great Lakes Hospital brought me a pad of paper and a pencil and asked to me write down the circumstances surrounding my being wounded. I did as they asked. They next asked my permission to ask me questions about how I was wounded during a routine examination, which would be conducted using sodium pentathol. After the examination, they came to me and said that they had reached a decision. They said their decision was based on my written statement, the location and size and shape of my wound, as well as residual powder burns and shrapnel distribution pattern and the questioning while I was under the sodium pentathol. They said that they felt I should be a candidate for the Congres-sional Medal of Honor.
I don't think the doctors knew exactly how to proceed. First they had me grant my power of attorney to the American Red Cross. After that I am not sure what was done and who did it. My first hint that everything was not going well came when I was inter-viewed by a Marine Corps noncommissioned officer who stood at the end of my bed and told me that he viewed me as a piece of scum who was trying to get something he didn't de-serve. It bothered me then and it bothers me today that Marine Corps records may indicate that I rather than the doctors at Great Lakes Naval Hospital sought to initiate the Medal of Honor action. In retrospect everything that could be done wrong was done wrong. Rather than starting with Cpl. King and Pfc. Repko, who were the only ones who could and did know what happened, the Navy Admiral in charge of the Great Lakes Naval Hospital contacted the Commandant of the Marine Corps. The Commandant, of course, went down the chain of command through my division CO, through my regimental CO, through my battalion CO, to my company CO who didn’t know anything then and still doesn’t today. My company CO couldn’t bring himself to admit he didn’t know what had happened and covered his ass as best he could, as did my battalion CO. CYOA is a game that officers play real well. My company CO and Battalion CO seemed to conspire to invent actions that didn’t occur and suggest events that didn’t happen. After the officer corps did their thing they finally got around to contacting King and Repko but by then my fate was sealed. The Marine Corps attitude was “Don’t confuse us with the facts.” In the final analysis I was screwed.
People who know the circumstances of my being wounded have asked me why I did what I did. The truth is I cannot say. I believe that when I realized a live grenade was in the foxhole with Cpl. King, Pfc. Repko, and myself that my reaction was instinctive. Cpl. King and Pfc. Repko were wounded, mainly in the legs by grenade fragments that came out from under me. They both survived the war and lived long and productive lives. Those I care about know what I did. That is all that is really important.
Lest like my battalion CO you think I am lying, I would like to quote from Pfc. John Repko’s sworn affidavit, which is part of my Marine Corps Service record:
“When the hand grenade entered our fox hole Mr. Keeley either sat on or roll over on it, however, in all the excitement and confusion I can’t state as to which one he did. Because of his action I received only a leg wound which could have been more serious than it was.”
And Pfc. Repko goes on: “I sincerely feel that this man is fully deserving of any honor which may be bestowed upon him due too his action at Iwo Jima.”
Post World War II
I was discharged from the Marine Corps in March of 1957. I was classified by the United States Veterans Association as 100% disabled. I had dropped out of high school when I was in the 10th grade. I was unable to do manual work so I had little choice but to try and continue my education. I attended night school and some day school and finished four years of high school mathematics and a course in high school chemistry in less that a year. I took and passed the General Education and Development (GED) Examination and was awarded a high school diploma in 1948. I entered Springfield Junior College and selected to major in Chemistry. I was graduated from Springfield Junior College in 1950. I was also married in 1950 to Mary Ruth Altepeter who I met while I was in college. I explained to Mary Ruth about my war injuries so she could decide if she wanted to gamble on me as a husband. She said she would and that turned out to be the single most important thing that ever happened to me. Mary Ruth and I have been married for fifty-five years. We have one daughter, Mary Patricia, who was born in 1951.
I enrolled at the University of Illinois (U of I) in 1950 as a chemistry major. I was graduated from the U of I in the spring of 1952 with highest honors. I decided to continue my education and following a summer’s employment at the State of Illinois, Highway Department’s Bureau of Material I enrolled in the graduate school of the Florida State University (FSU) if Tallahassee, Florida. At FSU I sought a Ph.D. degree in Chemistry under the direction of Dr. Rowland Johnson.
I was graduated from FSU in August of 1957 and took a position as an Assistant Professor of Chemistry at what was then Southwestern Louisiana Institute but is today The University of Louisiana at Lafayette. I retired from my university position in 1998 (?) as an Emeritus Distinguished Professor of Chemistry. I now play computer games and sit around waiting to die.
Postscript
In my life I have done several things of which I am proud. The first was serving in the United States Marine Corps in World War II. I decided to join the Marines Corps when I became aware of the atrocities that were committed by the Empire of Japan and its military personnel against the nearly defenseless peoples of the far East and particularly against the people of China. I told myself that I could not and would not allow such barbaric acts to be committed against the American people and in particular against my family. Therefore, I joined the United Sates Marine Corps on my 17th birthday. In the Marine Corps I met and became very fond of many young men. The men I knew best were members of the 1st Platoon of F Company of the 2nd Battalion of the 26th Regiment of the 5th Marine Division. They included the men in my fire team, Cpl. Jewel W. Gaither, our BAR man Pfc. John P. Repko, our assistant BAR man Pfc. Glenn R. Russell. I developed a friendship with our platoon corpsman Ph.M. George E. Wahlen that has lasted even to today. I came to know these and the other men of F-2-26 and to love them as brothers. With the exception of two officers they were brave honorable men. I do not know if as has been stated they were a part of “The Greatest Generation” but I do know that with only one or two exceptions they were exceptional human being.
My second act that I want to mention is marrying Mary Ruth Altepeter. Mary Ruth may not achieve sainthood but it won’t be for lack of trying nor will it not be because it isn’t deserved. Mary Ruth has taken care of this old blown up Marine for over 50 years. Never in that time have I ever heard her complain. Never have I heard her say a derogatory word about any human being. For the last 30 or more years she has been a grade school teacher. Her children love her and she loves them. Our daughter, Mary Patricia, was born in November of 1951 in Urbana, Illinois. Thank you my dear wife.
Finally I am proud of having been a teacher, A university professor to be exact. I believe I have helped shape the lives of many young men and women. These young people were about the same age as I and my comrades were when we fought in World War II. I retired from university teaching as a full professor of chemistry. I must have done a reasonably good job because my university colleagues voted to make me a distinguished professor before I retired.
