World War II, John Heimsoth

Each Memorial Day I think about the 12 Marines I helped bury at sea. There were no flowers and the cross on their grave is where a latitude line crosses a longitude line.

On June 15, 1944, at the Battle of Saipan, I was a quartermaster second class of LST 218, carrying 277 Marines, seven officers and their 17 LVT’s (landing vehicles, tracked) on our tank deck.

The Marines disembarked at 7 a.m. and prepared to hit the beach at 8:30 a.m. They were in the first wave and headed into blazing fire from the 30,000-strong enemy .

The first day the Marines landed 20,000 troops, but by end of daylight more than 2,000 were dead or wounded.

We were ordered to a position 1,000 yards from the beach and prepared to take on casualties. We set up 200 cots on the tank deck, had 32 hospital corpsmen to treat the minor wounds and five surgical doctors with their teams to perform emergency surgery.

Our first casualty was taken aboard at 10:15 a.m. This continued for the next four days, 24 hours a day. Those who died were buried at sea.
Their names and serial number were recorded in the daily log of the ship.

The casualties were brought out in the boats, LVT’s and DUKW’s (six-wheel drive amphibious trucks). When we were loaded, we contacted a larger transport ship waiting six to eight miles from the beach, transferred the wounded for transport to Pearl Harbor or Australia and the seriously wounded to the hospital ship.

PROCESS OF BURIAL
The bodies were wrapped in ponchos and secured to a stretcher with a five-inch projectile (for weight) placed between the legs. Then they were wrapped in another poncho and secured with chain wrapped around several times.

The bodies were then placed on a special launching board and draped with the American burial flag.

All crew members not on duty were ordered to be present. Then the captain read a prepared text for the ceremony. All hands stood at attention.
As the bodies slipped from beneath the flag, all hands gave a final salute to the fallen comrade. We had no music or bugler.

PROVIDING CLOSURE
About 10 years ago, I ordered the log sheets and referred to them often at our reunions. About three years ago, I began thinking about trying to get information on the men we had buried.

One day while loafing at my favorite place, the Stover Mill, I said I would like to find information on these men and their families. Roberta Fischer, an employee, asked me to give her the list of names. She wanted to get on the computer and see what she could find.

Ten days later, she had pages and pages of information about each man. All of them were listed as MIA (missing in action) or buried at sea. The information she printed included family names, telephone numbers and addresses.

I called the first number and a woman answered the phone. I told her who I was and what I was calling about. She didn’t know if it was a joke or not. She was the sister of deceased Marine S. J. Srstka. She was convinced I was telling the truth after I told her about the information I found.

She said her mother had died in the 1970s still believing her son would come home. She asked why anyone would take the time to do this. The conversation was very hard for both of us. She said the only information her mother had was a letter from the War Department stating her son was MIA or buried at sea.

Out of the 12 men involved, I was able to make contact with five families — one sister, two brothers, a cousin and one engaged to be married when he returned.

All of the families expressed their gratitude. They couldn’t believe why after all these years I would be concerned enough to put all this information together for their families to give them proof and bring final closure as to how these men died and were buried.

May God bless these men for the sacrifice they made for our own country: S. J. Srstka, R.L. Bazine, Salvador C. Chaney, Myron B. Carstensen, Arthur J. Dilty, L.W. Dyche, William G. Harris, B.C. Love, Maurice L. Miller, John W. Radley, William M. Reeves Jr. and Warner T. Sherlock.