The book Marine: The Life of Chesty Puller, tells the story of the most decorated Marine in American history. Chesty Puller. In Part 2, we move to training in the Pacific in Samoa, and the first battle for Puller in World War II, Guadalcanal.
Discussion Questions:
- How hard can you push a group? How does a leader know how far he can push. In this situation, Puller made them go until unconscious.
- Puller recommended suet on feet for blisters, something he learned in Haiti. How many other tricks can we learn to help lead?
- A kid went AWOL to find the grave of a famous writer. He could have court martialed; instead he gave him a lecture.
- Puller basically took goods from the Army. How do we define the rules of what we do when times are difficult. And when do we purposefully violate our organization’s rules to save the organization.
- Puller considered himself a spiritual leader when clergy did poorly. Is that always the best role?
Chapter 9
Dress Rehearsal in Samoa
The Major drove them so relentlessly on Samoa that the men forgot the hardships. For two days after docking at Apia the men acted as stevedores, working in relays with only three hours’ sleep each night. When they were off that duty, they carried heavy machine guns in advanced gun drill. Only the most observant, like Dr. Smith, noted the beauties of the place: “Mountains come gently down to meet the sea. In Apia, low houses with red or green roofs. Few stores. No hurry. Flowers and trees blooming, few autos with right hand drive, horses ridden bareback. We stare at bare feet, handsome draped bodies, graceful carriage. Camped under banyan tree on the shore.… In the moonlight could hear guitars in huts where Marines had gathered with natives to sing and dance.”
Puller led many marches, but on one broiling day he pushed them near the limit: “I want nobody to fall out today unless he falls on his face, unconscious. You’re going to need every ounce of endurance you can build up, when you get into combat. Anyone who staggers to the roadside, and then sits down, will be court-martialed or surveyed out as medically unfit.”
The march was twenty-two miles under a searing sun, over an asphalt highway. Many strong youngsters were felled, including Captain Regan Fuller, who was only two weeks out of bed from a shipboard appendectomy; Puller stopped by to congratulate him on his courage in keeping up for so long, for there were then only two miles to go. Captain Jack Stafford lost consciousness, and was carried in.
Private Gerald White wrote for his diary: “Puller must have marched twice the distance we did, for all day long he kept marching up and down the column, jaunty as a bantam rooster, pipe clenched in his teeth, ever alert to see that men who were succumbing to the heat, exhaustion or blisters were taken care of by corpsmen. Many times today I saw him take a BAR, machine gun or mortar off the shoulder of some Marine whose fanny was dragging and carry it to give the poor guy some respite.”
Lieutenant James Hayes, the battalion judge advocate, never forgot the day:
“When we got to Apia my feet were so blistered that I could hear them squooshing. Almost all the men fell in their tracks when we were dismissed, and fell asleep without chow. Some of the younger officers were critical of Puller the next day. They thought he was too tough.”
Puller explained once more to his company officers, when, he had seen the worn men: “Gentlemen, remember to have every man carry a one-inch square of beef suet in his pack. If they’ll grease their feet daily, and avoid so much washing, they’ll have no blisters. An old trick from the Haitian soldiers, and it never fails. You can’t march men without feet, gentlemen.”
Forgiveness and Danger
There were other hard marches in Samoa and the battalion became tougher as the weeks passed. Private White, who went AWOL briefly one day to climb a mountain and find the overgrown grave of Robert Louis Stevenson, wrote of Puller’s unexpected kindness to a boy he caught asleep on guard duty at an ammunition dump. Puller shook the boy awake:
“Old man, it’s dangerous to pull a trick like this. Suppose Captain Rogers had caught you. He’d have made a big fuss, and then I’d have to court-martial you and slap you in the brig. Maybe that’s what I should do—but I’ll give you another chance. Pretty soon, now, we’ll be fighting for keeps, and you’ll stay awake, or risk the lives of every one of us. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir, Major.”
Lessons In Communications
Puller gave a practical lesson in field communications to his runners that they never forgot. He lined up a couple of dozen message-bearers in two groups, about a hundred yards apart, and had them count off. He whispered a message into the ear of the first runner:
“Find Captain Jones of C Company. Tell him to pull out and come in on the right flank and hook on at a 45-degree angle. Have him move at 1100.” He slapped the runner on the rump and yelled: “Hustle! Take it to Number 2! All of you make top speed!”
The young men sprinted over the open in sequence, passing the message down the line, until it had passed to the last man. “Let me hear what you got, old man,” Puller said.
“B Company comes in off the right flank at 1145. Order from Captain Jones.”
Puller shouted the original message to them, and put them to the exercise again: “Open your ears. You’ll have to do this until you learn. When you carry a message in combat, the life of every man in the outfit may ride with you.”
CHAPTER X
A War Within A War/Guadalcanal
Lewis Puller was just over forty-four years old, with more than half his life spent in the Marine Corps. Guadalcanal was a jumbled land mass almost ninety miles long, a little-known British copra station which was now the nearest Japanese outpost to Australia and a threat to American supply lines in the South Pacific. There were no accurate maps.
The battalion left the perimeter that afternoon, a file of more than eight hundred men, winding along a trail. Puller had a few last words for the men: “Keep those canteens out of your mouths. If you don’t save water, you’ll regret it. That drink will mean more to you in this place than you ever dreamed it could.”
Puller was near the front of the column; behind him, heedless of his warning, men began to drink water. The tail of the battalion had hardly cleared the perimeter when there was firing ahead. Captain Hayes was near the Colonel at the moment:
“Every man hit the deck, except Puller. We dived for the growth beside the trail but he walked up and down the line talking as if he were on parade. He told us it was all right and that this was nothing to worry about, just small stuff. We began to get up again. Then and there he commanded that battalion as it never imagined it could be commanded. The men saw what kind of a man they had and the word went down the column as fast as light. We lost our fear—or some of it.”
Troop Care & Faith
Puller’s battalion now took its place in the perimeter which defended Henderson Field, the main line of resistance in the American position. Puller temporarily took a line of holes and gun positions on ridges behind barbed wire. The Colonel set to work on improving battalion morale. Dr. Smith noted in his diary that Puller seemed more concerned over losses:
“He has become almost fanatical in his desire to see that the men are properly cared for. If a man’s body is lost he is greatly disturbed, and frets about the time lost before he can recover the body and give it a decent burial. Not an outwardly religious man himself, he encourages divine services to be held frequently on the front lines for the men who want them. He would much sooner give services himself than not to have any.”
Puller was often dissatisfied with a chaplain’s talk to the men and would grumble: “Maybe it’s time I tried my hand. I think I could do better.” Dr. Smith thought he would have been the island’s best chaplain, and wrote in open admiration: “Whatever he says is sincere. I have never seen an officer with so little bluff.”
Puller recommended other men for medals from the operation at the crater, among them Lieutenant George Plantier, who, though badly wounded, refused to be treated until he had seen all his mortar shells fired.
Finding Supplies
Supplies were still short, but though all outfits were limited to two meals daily Puller fed his battalion three without violating orders. He spotted stacks of Japanese rice in boxes along the shore, a neglected treasure. Some was wormy and spoiled; his men culled it, and he sent the rest to his cooks.
The troops were filthy; their socks were gone and their underclothing was rotting away. At the worst of this time the Army hit the beach, the vanguard of the American Division. The Colonel learned of it when he saw half a dozen of his men spruced up in Army utilities.
“Where the devil did you get ’em?”
“Colonel, the beach is loaded. Anything you want.”
Puller summoned Pennington and they went to the beach in a jeep. There were vast piles of stores: boxes of socks, bacon, underwear, everything the Marines could desire. The soldiers had taken cover from Pistol Pete, a long Jap howitzer far down in the jungle which dropped a shell in the sand every few minutes. Puller and Pennington threw cases on the jeep until the sergeant feared that they would never move it.
A crouching Army MP shouted from a foxhole: “Leave that stuff alone, damn you! That’s Army gear.”
Puller gave him a farewell: “If you’re guarding this stuff, get the hell out here and guard it.”