Aug. 19, 1942: 'Tell it to the Marines'

For the late Lt. Gen. James V. Edmundson, Longboat Key’s most decorated veteran, this coming Sunday, Aug. 19, 70 years ago, was one of his most heroic missions.

He earned the Distinguished Flying Cross for sinking a Japanese warship and saving the lives of hundreds of outgunned Marines who were pinned down and helpless on the beach of Lungo Point on Guadalcanal Island in the South Pacific.

The odds that he and his crew would survive and be victorious were not in their favor. And it wasn’t until 54 years later, in 1996, that Gen. Edmundson would finally converse, by letter, with some of the Marines who lived because, as the late Admiral C.W. Nimitz put it, of Edmundson and his crew’s “extraordinary achievement.”

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Gen. Edmundson and his wife, Lee, settled on Longboat Key, in a home on the tip of Marbury Lane on north end of the Key after 36 years of extraordinary achievements in three wars (World War II, the Korean War and Vietnam War): 181 combat missions, 24 medals, including the Purple Heart, Bronze Star, Silver Star, three Legions of Merit and seven Distinguished Flying Crosses.

Even post-military, Gen. Edmundson distinguished himself as a leader on Longboat Key, becoming a commissioner and serving two terms as mayor. The Longboat Post Office bears his name. Gen. Edmundson also was the bedrock of the Longboat Key Kiwanis Club, holding court in his home to initiate new members into the expectations of being a Kiwanian.

Those who personally remember the general always speak of him in awe. Like many World War II heroes, he was humble. But there was something about him, even when he wore a guyabera shirt at the Thursday Kiwanis breakfasts. Just by looking at Gen. Edmundson, you could feel and sense something special and important.

Fellow Kiwanian and retired Army Col. Al Bagot said of Edmundson shortly after he died in June 2001: “Even as a civilian, the general had a military bearing. He was always erect, always polite. He carried himself as if there was this inborn thing about loyalty to country and flag.” 

But you wouldn’t get a sense of the depths of his heroism until you went to his home. His library was a museum of his career — lined with military books, medals, gifts from world dignitaries, his general’s flag and the U.S. flag standing as sentries behind his desk chair. He spent many of his retired days talking as a mentor and friend on the telephone to his former colleagues. He was a prolific letter writer.

In one binder, entitled “Tell It to the Marines,” the story of Aug. 19, 1942, comes alive through letters between Edumundson and about a dozen of the Marines whose lives he saved.

Edmundson triggered the letters when in 1996 he submitted a 365-word query to “The Old Breed News,” a newsletter for members of the First Marine Division Association.

“I want to tell you about a group of Marines whom I have never met, but would like to some day,” Edmundson wrote.

This is a story of heroism.

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It starts in Edmundson’s own words.

“On 19 August 1942, just 11 days after the initial Marine landing on Guadalcanal, things were pretty quiet. My crew and I were sleeping under the wings of our B-17 on the airfield at Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides, when our boss, Col. Blondie Saunders woke us up early in the morning. 

“I jumped out in a hurry, because he had Admiral McCain (the senator’s father) with him off of his flagship in Sagun Channel. The Admiral had received a call for help from Guadalcanal. A group of Marines were on the beach at Lunga Point who were being shelled by a Jap warship. 

“He came to Blondie to see what the B-17s could do, and they came to wake us up because we had the only B-17 on the island that was in commission, fueled, bombed up and ready to go.”

That was classic Edmundson — having his wings ready to go. Ever since he was a boy in California, he lived to be in the cockpit of a plane. On this day, young Capt. Edmundson already was an experienced, battle-tested fighter pilot. He was 27.

Edmundson and his crew took off in the dark with only half a load — four, 500-pound bombs. It was imperative they hit the Japanese cruiser, because it was a three-hour flight from their South Pacific base. Time was crucial. If they missed, Marine casualties would become even more severe.

To make matters worse, Navy reinforcements were days away. Ten days earlier, U.S. aircraft carriers had withdrawn from the Solomon Islands, and the Japanese navy, in a surprise attack a day later, sank a group of Allied cruisers and destroyers.

This left the 11,000 Marines near Tulagi island and Lunga Point on Guadalcanal — most of them 17- and 18-year-olds just out of training —with less than half of the food and ammunition they needed.

“We were at the mercy of the Japanese,” John W. Burke, of Wilmington, Del., and formerly of Company C, First Battalion, Fifth Marines wrote to Edmundson. “We were shelled and bombed both day and night. We felt so helpless.”

“Sixty millimeter mortars, light 30-caliber MG and Springfield rifles were no match for the Jap naval vessel,” Gerald P. McHale said in a letter to Edmundson.

And the conditions were wretched. “Between the rain, insects, dysentery, malaria and the Japs, I went from 185 pounds to 139 pounds,” Thomas Gruner, of Browns Valley, Calif., recalled in a letter to Edmundson. “I was as close as I have ever been to being a ‘Section 8.’”

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As Capt. Edmundson and his crew approached the scene, cloud cover was heavy. If they were to be sure to sink the cruiser and keep the ship from dodging their B-17, they would have to come in low. They dropped altitude to 5,000 feet — increasing the risk to themselves and lowering the odds of their own survival.

“When we got to the area and saw what was going on, we knew one thing — we sure didn’t want to miss that cruiser,” Edmundson wrote in letters to the Marines. “He was pounding you guys on the beach with his heavy guns.”

In short order, those guns took aim at Edmundson’s B-17. The cruiser’s heavy anti-aircraft fire blasted around all sides of Edmundson’s “Flying Fortress.”

At the crucial moment, Edmundson’s bombardier, Al Thom, let loose the four bombs “at minimum train,” meaning all four bombs hit the cruiser within a fraction of a second, making it appear to be one bomb, an enormous explosion in a shroud of black smoke and clouds.

Two of the bombs, Edmundson wrote, were near misses. The first and fourth bombs knocked out the ship’s rudder. The second and third hit the ship’s fantail. Wounded beyond repair and unable to be steered, the Japanese ship kept turning in tight circles, its guns now silent.

And then: “You should have heard the tremendous roar that came up from the troops on the beach,” wrote Glenn Campbell, of New Bern, N.C.

Marines poured onto the beach to cheer their saviors, jumping up and down and waving at Edmundson’s B-17.

Elated himself by the scene on the beach, adrenaline still pumping, Edmundson circled around, and as he put it, “like a nut, I dove down and made a pass along the beach. As he flew by, Capt. Edmundson “waggled his wings” — a salute to his fellow countrymen.

“You couldn’t hear it,” Edmundson wrote to Campbell, “but my crew was yelling just as hard as you were.”

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Running low on fuel, Edmundson pointed his B-17 back to base at Espiritu Santo for the three-hour return flight. When he landed, Admiral McCain was waiting. McCain hugged Edmundson … and cried. He knew the magnitude of it all — all of those boys on the beach and the courage of Edmundson and his crew.

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Six months later, on Feb. 4, 1943, the secretary of the Navy, Frank Knox, issued a citation “in the name of the President of the United States” to the First Marine Division, Reinforced, under the command of Maj. Gen. Alexander A. Vadegrift, U.S.M.C. It cited their “outstanding gallantry and determination” on Guadalcanal and the surrounding Solomon Islands. “The courage and determination displayed in these operations were of an inspiring order,” Knox wrote.

Included as a recipient of this citation was a non-Marine — then-Army Air Force Maj. James V. Edmundson.

That was not all. Tucked in Edmundson’s binder recalling this hope-and-a-prayer rescue mission is a yellowed, typewritten citation from Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, commander-in-chief of the United States Pacific Fleet.

“For heroic and extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight as pilot of a Flying Fortress (B-17 airplane) on August nineteen, nineteen hundred forty two, near Tulagi, Solomon Islands. Without regard for his own safety he flew his airplane at low altitude through heavy antiaircraft fire, as a result of which a five-hundred-pound bomb hit was obtained just abaft the after turret of an enemy cruiser. The attack resulted in heavy explosions and intense fire on the enemy vessel. His great courage, fortitude and disregard for personal safety were in keeping with the finest traditions of the naval service of the United States, with which he was then serving.”

This was the citation for the Distinguished Flying Cross.

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While Admiral Nimitz’ citation stands as the official recognition of Edmundson’s valor, letters from the Marines who were there on Lungo Point 70 years ago, magnify the citation in human terms.

John L. Joseph, of Fallston, Md., described himself as “one old former buck private who was on the beach cheering you and your crew of that beautiful B-17. You and your crew and your blasting that Jap cruiser will never know how much we appreciated that act — not only because you got it off our backs, but it was a bit of hope that we weren’t forgotten or abandoned.”

“I remember your plane like it was yesterday,” wrote Homer L. Curtis, of Howard City, Mich. “I believe that every man on beach defense in both regiments said it: It sure was a beautiful site. On behalf of all of us, we want to thank you and your crew for a job well done. I know that I have told that story many, many times.”

“Without you, we would never have survived,” wrote John W. Burke of Wilmington, Del. “I have told many friends over the years of the B-17 that hit and sank the Japanese cruiser that had fired on us. It is nice to know who was flying the fortress.”

EDITOR’S NOTE
In lieu of our weekly opinion page, it seemed appropriate to honor Longboat Key’s most decorated war hero, Gen. James V. Edmundson, on the 70th anniversary of one of his most heroic missions.

Thanks to Cee Edmundson, daughter of the late general, for sharing the general’s archives. — MW