by Valerie Preston

Created on: May 26, 2008

Like many Americans, Memorial Day was always to me a day to honor our fallen and living soldiers of war. As I grew up, it never had any actual personal significance, except to honor my brother, who returned from 3 years of duty in Vietnam so many years ago. I always felt it was a special day, and out of loyalty to our country and gratitude for our freedom I honored it. Not too long ago, I came to honor it even more, and the true significance of this day has grown stronger ever since.

When I was 54 years old, I had the freedom and the money to meet my father in Palm Beach, FL, for the annual reunion of the 5th Division of the Marine Survivors of the Battle of Iwo Jima. My hands are literally shaking with admiration for these men as I type. I have been going ever since and have gotten to know many of these elderly gentlemen well. I've heard their stories, and, given that Iwo was one of the most horrible battles of WWII, they are gruesome, but filled with examples of bravery as well. The Marines won the island against all odds and with unrelenting determination in conditions that worked against them in visible and invisible ways.

I had always known my father had gone to war just before I was born, and was wounded at a place called Iwo Jima. He had been in the hospital a long time; that and the fact that he still has shrapnel in his chest and got a Purple Heart intrigued me. Mostly, I wanted to know more about shrapnel and see the medals he got and he obliged, but he never did tell us any stories or details of the war. A similar story of ignorance and then revelation, with great detail of the battle at Iwo will be found in the engrossing Book, "Flags of Our Fathers" by James Bradley.

As it turned out, my father, at age 19, shipped out with other Marines to a destination unknown. The men were informed, as they drew closer to their target, that this tiny island was badly needed; it had been air-bombed already and should be a piece of cake to take over, a few days at most.

Shiploads of Marines climbed down ropes to reach the water and make their way to the island. They landed and landed by the thousands for most of the day with no shots fired. The island appeared deserted. A small island about 3 X 5 miles, it harbored one mountain named Surabachi. From with that mountain, and later during the battle, from elaborate underground tunnels, the Japanese picked off Marines in a bloodbath. The men on the island were sitting ducks, and 1000's were killed that first day. Any

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