MAURY WILLIAMS WWII MEMORYS
ALL MATERIAL AND PHOTOS PROPERTY OF AND COPYRIGHT BY
MR. MAURY WILLIAMS
Mr. Williams continues to document his story as a Marine, WWII, 3rd Marine Division
21st Regiment

This photo was made in Marietta, Ohio in 1992, the first time any of my company members had met together in nearly half a century:
Left to right:
Maury Williams, John Balas and Harold Lesser. The battlefield trophies - a samurai sword and two flags - were some of the things I captured during the mopping up operations in northern Guam in Aug/Nov., 1944. The two flags were taken from the hat of the Japanese, Kawakubo; the sword belonged to a
Japanese officer I shot during combat patrol in October, 1944.
(1) The day after our arrival Sue stood sentry duty at mansion gate.
I made photos of 1997 Guam that veterans of that fight might find interesting. Some of our 3rd Division men have attended the yearly Guam reunions.  I could not, before the following took place: In 1997, courtesy of Micronesean Airlines
and the Gov't. of Guam, I was privileged to spend ten days on the island with
my own wheels and complete freedom to see and do things I'd previously
thought impossible.

(2) View of Agana as seen from mansion's back yard. Tumon Bay is in background.
GOVERNOR'S MANSION & VIEW OF AGANA
The guard at the gate is my precious childhood sweetheart/wife of 55 years!
Sue and I were guests at the Governor's mansion and had full time
use of the governor's car and chauffeur. Later, to have more freedom to
explore, I rented a car.
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Be sure to read the story, as begun, on page 1. 
1997 photo of Asan Beach with Asan Point in background. Protected by National Park Service as a permanent WWII memorial. It looks different from the chaotic  scene on 21 July, 1944, huh? Where are the fallen trees, bomb craters and all that noise? Today this place is unbelievably quiet and peaceful.The photo was taken from the Third Marines sector of the beach, near Chorito Cliff.

The beach remains littered with what the native Chamorros call, "war junk." The metal thingamajigs seen here are so corroded that they couldn't be identified. Several large-bore gun barrels still protrude from the shallow waters and the sands are littered with rusting shrapnel. Other unidentified hulks can also be seen just offshore. Landing boats? Trucks or amphibs? There's no way of knowing!
I've wondered how to include descriptions of my return trip to Guam in some abbreviated way. As I mentioned earlier, I've written/am re-writing three books (unpublished), (1) My WWII memoirs, (2) excerpts of recent-year letters received from my company members, and (3) my account of the return to Guam.  It's been said that a picture is worth a
thousand words. 
PAGE 2

These photos were snapped on the unforgettable day I again climbed Fonte - better known as "Banzai" - Ridge above Asan Beach (actually, I was PULLED up that hill by some damn good Marines whom I just happened to meet in the U.S.
Navy/Marine Museum on Orote Pennensula). They, members of 2nd Marine Support Group, were the last active Marines to leave Guam, departing the island five days after the climb. Can anybody believe Guam no longer has a Marine unit?  
-  of any kind? These photos were made just before the ascent, one of them as the climb got underway. The sky on this day was clear, the temperature
blazing. Exactly as it was on 21 July, 1944!
" There are places I'll remember 
  all my life though some have changed.
  Some forever not for better,
  some have gone and some remain.
  All these places have their moments,
  with lovers and friends I still can recall
  Some are dead and some are living,
   in my life I've loved them all."
ASAN BEACH
On the night of 25/26 July, 1944, Banzai Ridge (Fonte Hill), above Asan Beach, saw the final and most reckless major Japanese frontal assault of the
entire war. On the night historians now refer to as "The Final Banzai," my outfit, Regimental Weapons Company, 21st Regiment, was ensconsed near the middle of the ridge - the opposite ridge as viewed in these two photos. One of the men in our little hiking party took my  picture (top) as I stood
silently recalling that fateful night...drunken Japanese storming over the ridge from the right-center (of the photo) and a full battalion breaking our lines and making its way down to Asan Beach. Next morning I and my fellow
company members got the bloody job of combing these ridges and ravines to destroy the infiltrators. That night proved to be General Takashina's final
effort. He and his staff were machinegunned to death early the following morning on the slopes just to the right of and above this scene, as they left
their cave-command post . None who was there and survived that night of the "Big Banzai" will forget it. Had it not been for the assistance of the
active-duty Marine volunteers in the lower photo I would never have seen that place again.  I came down "the mountain" a very tired, dehydrated and
physically spent old man. Yet there's a strong young Marine  somewhere in this frail body that thinks he can and should have climbed that hill without help.
RETURN TO GUAM  1997

Japanese coastal gun atop the high cliff above Piti Town, one of three in a battery ensconsed there. One gun (top photo), remains untouched. The remaining two were toppled and/or destroyed by Naval bombardment before D-Day - lucky for us! This battery would have had an unobstructed view of the Asan
landing beach.






Close-up of same gun. Several Japanese visitors were departing as I arrived, leaving a small bouquet of red and yellow flowers - nearly hidden under the barrel. Guam has a large population of Japanese, and since the trip to Guam from Japan is less than fifteen hundred miles, Japanese visitors greatly outnumber our own.
Remember the Japanese airstrip on Orote Peninsula? Our Southern Landing Forces captured this place and put it to our own good uses in short order. I recall seeing a beehive of activity on this strip during the fall of '44 as
our Corsairs and other fighter planes flew daily sorties against the enemy. Today the old airfield is a desert-like wasteland of concrete and weeds with an encrouching jungle encircling the entire perimeter. We drove our car right down the middle of the tarmac, no airplanes, no MPs, no Marines - nothing! A weird and haunting experience!







The remains of a crashed Marine Corsair lie decaying in the jungle about a half mile from the southern tip of the Orote airstrip, accessible only through a tough hike over a nearly impenetrable tangle of jungle growth and
dredged coral, used by the enemy to build the airfield. To reach this site we had, at times, to crawl on all fours over the jagged coral outcroppings. Ouch!
Japanese Com. Gen. Obata's final command post, located in Guam's northern sector, is pretty well hidden by jungle growth. It's a spooky place in the bottom of a dark, dank and overgrown, grotto-like area that native Chamorros
avoid because it's said to be the dwelling place of the spirits of the dead. Obata and his staff committed Hari Kiri in this cave and another one nearby during the final days of the battle . I entered the cave and found a jar of
wilted flowers Japanese visitors had left. Also a few empty saki and beer bottles, and a small Shinto-like alter built of stones under a rotting wooden board. We were glad to take leave of that place, superstition or not.
When I was about ready to meet the brother of the armed Japanese I'd killed near this (photo) site in '44, I realized that I didn't have a clue what to expect. Would this guy harbor those age-old feelings of distrust? Would he still have the deep-seated hatred that former fighting men find hard to put aside?  I wasn't sure about my own confused and mixed emotions. This was a situation and a question most former fighting men never face. On the morning of Twenty-Three September, 1997, I was to find out.

At the memorial park where we were to meet I tensed as the Japanese family stepped from a government car. Next came a shock. Not only did Kiyoharu Kawakubo of Kochi Prefecture, Kyushu Island, Japan, take a deep bow and offer his hand, he put his arms around me! My response was the same. These surprising gestures of conciliation and acceptance were repeated with the slain man's younger brother and a sister who was bent low from a lifetime of
working in the family's rice fields.

I was embarrassed when my eyes dampened. As did theirs.

After more than half a century World War Two, during those moments, had come full circle. I thought of a half-forgotten poem I'd been required to memorize in grade school... "Oh, East is East - And West is West - And ne'er the twain shall meet..."
For me, the poem now has little meaning.




"IN MY LIFE"
One morning, soon after our arrival, we drove to Apra Harbor. To my surprise a Japanese warship flying the old Japanese battle flag was tied to the wharf.
Unaccostumed to visiting such post-war harbors I looked upon the scene in complete shock; it was as if the war had never happened! Apra Harbor had been witness to all that had taken place a half century earlier. We had boarded
ship there in February, 1945, to storm the beaches at Iwo Jima. I could not get the mental picture of that ship out of my mind for many days. Old animosities are slow to give way to what has become, for old Marines, a new and different world!
STORYS OF THE PEOPLE, AND THE PLACES
MAURY WILLIAMS GUESTBOOK