Montrose - Daily Press

Stephen Woody

The Notebook

One of the joys of this profession is talking with people like Bob Strong. It’s Veterans Day, and the movie ‘The Flags of Our Fathers’ is showing downtown at the Fox/Penthouse Theatre. So the timing’s right.

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Bob is an Iwo Jima veteran. A sailor stationed on board the USS Highlands, an auxiliary support ship, he saw all the death and destruction that was the bloodiest battle of the Pacific Theatre. Sixty-plus years later, he recalls with a sharp memory where he was that day. It was Feb. 19, 1945. It was 0930.

Bob was part of a four-man crew that operated an LCVP landing craft, or Higgins Boat. Inside his boat that day were 36 Marines destined to land at Red Beach 2. He was a first class Navy seaman, all of 19.

“It was quiet, the surf at that time was down,” Bob says. “A lot of the Marines thought the landing was going to be a piece of cake.” And for the most part, it was. The horizon, Bob recalls, “was black with ships.”

A half-hour later, however, all hell broke loose. The Japanese commander had instructed his men not to fire on U.S. forces until they were bogged down in the soft volcanic ash on the beaches, ash from Mount Suribachi, an extinct volcano which loomed overhead. When the Japanese started firing - from atop the mountain, in caves, and in hidden, deadly pillbox-type defenses - it was a withering fire. Almost 7,000 U.S. servicemen died on Iwo Jima, as did 22,000 Japanese. There were 27 Medals of Honor awarded for Iwo, the most from a single WWII battle.

“They were expecting us. It was a slaughter,” Bob recalls, adding, “Suddenly the surf came up. I remember Suribachi looking like a Christmas tree, all lit up, with the Japanese firing at us, and us firing back.”

Clint Eastwood’s movie about Iwo Jima is faithful to the book of the same name, published in 2000 by James Bradley. He was the son of John Bradley, a Navy medic, who grabbed a piece of a flagpole and a piece of history five days into the invasion of Iwo. Associated Press photographer Joe Rosenthal caught the elder Bradley and five other Marines raising the flag on Suribachi. The photo was published in the nation’s newspapers, and became the most famous photo ever. Three of the six men were killed later in fighting; the three survivors were whisked off the island and became reluctant, but dutiful pitchmen for war bonds, raising more than $14 billion. The three men led disparate lives after the war. Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian, was tortured by what he experienced, and sank into alcoholism and early death. Rene Gagnon with his movie-star good looks could never capitalize on his early fame, though he tried mightily. John Bradley returned home to Wisconsin and became a successful businessman and civic leader. After his death, his son uncovered his father’s Navy Cross from his actions on Iwo Jima, and the glory that came from being in a famous photograph. He began writing the book.

Bob Strong hasn’t seen the movie yet, but wants to. He’s read the book.

“You don’t get scared, really, until it’s all over. Then it sinks in,” he says. “I remember the faces of those 36 Marines we dropped off at the beach. They were grim, but ready to do what needed to be done.” Some 1,500 Marines were stationed on the USS Highlands, many not returning.

“The ship was a floating hospital. The officer’s quarters became an operating room.”

Bob was there four days, and five nights. “It was like watching a giant news reel. You’re out in the water watching our Marines get butchered, helpless. I almost feel guilty. I couldn’t help them. I just sat there and watched.”

He did much more than just sit and watch. Bob ferried men back to ship for medical care, returning to the beaches with supplies. It was lethal duty.

Bob’s boat sat just off Suribachi when the flag went up. “He (Joe Rosenthal) was in the right spot at the right time. We saw the flag and cheered.”

After Iwo, Bob saw action at Okinawa where Japanese kamikaze planes crashed into U.S. ships. The mission of the USS Highlands at Okinawa was to lay down smoke to distract the Japanese pilots. “They weren’t after a ship like ours, so we tried to help the bigger ships, the carriers.” Later, Bob sailed into Tokyo Bay on his ship for the signing of the Japanese surrender on V-J Day, Aug. 15, 1945. They parked near the USS Missouri, where the surrender signing was held.

“We really showed the Japanese our power that day,” he says. “The sky was black with aircraft. Like locust.”

After the war, Bob returned home to Lamar, Colo. He married his sweetheart, Phyllis, who was from Rocky Ford. He’s been “happily married for eight years.” In fact, they’ve been married 54 years. I told him I was going to put that crack in that paper. Chuckling, he replied, “Well, she’s used to it by now.” Bob’s like many of those men and women who survived a depression, successfully fought a war, and quietly became what Tom Brokaw has referred to as the “greatest generation.”

Bob and Phyllis moved to Montrose in 1963 where he owned the Gambles hardware store. Later, he became the Sears merchant, retiring and selling his business in 1983.

Since then, he’s been active in the community and with the Montrose Lions Club.

Last week, the Notebook floated an item asking about Iwo Jima veterans, because of today’s Veterans Day salute. Bob responded, and said he would like to talk to other veterans of that day. His number is 249-6098.

“It was good talking with you,” he told me in closing.

Yes, it was. But for me, sir, it was an honor.

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