PART OF 3RD MARINE DIVISION WW II


In 1993 I got to remembering the island where we trained and fought during
WWII. I was 21st Regiment, 3rd Mar. Div. The fiftieth anniversary of the
liberation of Guam was to be celebrated the following July 21, 1994. I
couldn't be there for the occasion so I penned a poem about my buddies (the
poem is included below). The names, places and circumstances in the following poem are not made up. These were my comrades who fought by my side. The poem was published in the island's newspaper in conjunction with the celebration.

Just Fifty Years Ago

I've gone back to the islands, Mac, at least I dream't I did,
To find the guys I left out there when I was just a kid.
I looked for our old buddies, mac, for Jim and Earl, you know,
And John and the other boys we knew just fifty years ago.

I looked for our old campgrounds, Mac, and found them in awhile
In hazy visions...misty dreams...on those Pacific Isles.
I saw each man, though dimly, Mac, in twilight's ebb and flow,
And none looked different than he did just fifty years ago.

Assembly grounds are crowded still, the rollcall loud and clear:
"Lesser!...Here!"  "Brinkley!...Ho!"  All present, front and rear!
I saw the rains come tumblin' down, alike on friend and foe,
That brought the flood and endless mud just fifty years ago.

I walked along those coral streets that led to our old camp
And heard the bugler play Retreat...these old eyes got damp.
The cockatoos grew quiet, Mac, at sun's last feeble glow
And one more day was put away just fifty years ago.

At daybreak came the chowdown call, the cook would show his skill:
Dehydrated eggs and Spam and "mud," and other nameless swill.
Then I remembered how it was, though visions come and go
And things are not as clear today as fifty years ago.

I clearly recalled when Bill was hit on Asan's bloody shore
And Red and Phil and all the rest, who bide with us no more.
We saw our buddies struck down, Mac, it was a fearful blow!
A terrible cost in the good men we lost just fifty years ago.

The times were tough and oft' enough there'd be the devil to pay
But our young men stood side by side like brothers, come what may.
That regiment of young Marines, as you and I both know,
Were 'mongst the best there ever was just fifty years ago.

And now we're scattered o'er the land, some underneath the sod;
Still, we've a few old comrades left, and by the Grace of God,
We'll e'er recall when we stood tall to fight that common foe.
The Fighting Twenty-First was there!...just fifty years ago!

Copyright Maury T. Williams, Jr.

POSTED WITH THE PERMISSION OF MR. WILLIAMS, ONE OF AMERICA'S BEST.AND A HEART-FELT
SEMPER FI TO THIS FINE MAN.  YOUNG OF SPIRIT
A GUARDIAN OF THE MEMORYS OF THOSE WHO ARE NO LONGER ABLE TO WALK AMONGST US.
MAY WE GIVE HIM HIS DUE HONOR NOW.
AS STATED ABOVE, THE HIGHLIGHTED NAMES ARE REAL MEN. LOST IN REAL BATTLE.  REAL FAMILYS TO GRIEVE, AS WELL AS THE BUDDIES WHO REMEMBER THEM.  THIS IS NOT ABSTRACT HISTORY.  REAL MEN .  REAL LIVES. REAL LIVES LOST.
PART OF 3RD MARINE DIVISION WW II
REMEMBERING THOSE LOST
MR. WILLIAMS CONTINUES TO WORK ON HIS MEMOIRS, AND HAS GRACIOUSLY ALLOWED ADDITIONAL INFORMATION REGARDING SOME OF THESE MEN TO BE POSTED HERE.

I appreciate that you would ask to know the stories behind the names in the
poem, and I would do anything I could to honor those guys in any way
possible. My best buddy during the war was "Bill" (William F.) Meuse, the
Bill in the poem, who was fatally wounded by mortar fire near me on Guam's
Asan Beach on 21 July, 1944, so he will be, of course, my primary focus.
"Red" Martin and "Phil" H. Loconto were killed on the beach the same day but
I never got in touch with his people so my recollections of those guy's
individual stories are pretty vague and incomplete. The name, "Mac," which
appears throughout the poem, is purely fictional, a name Marines tagged on
each other during the war. "Jim" and "Earl" Cossaboon were half-brothers from
Millville, N. J. Both survived the war. Earl died in August 1999 and Jim is
still around, suffering from severe wounds he sustained on Iwo Jima. Harold
"Lesser" and Raymond "Brinkley" also survived the war. I'm in daily email
touch with Lesser but didin't find Brinkley's family until it was too late.
He passed away a couple of years before the VA officer led me to his
hometown. Brinkley was an especially close buddy. It comes back, mainly, to
Bill Meuse. I have a shipboard photo of Bill and myself and a couple of
others, taken about ten days before the Guam landing.  The story of finding Bill's family is a bit involved, having unfolded four or five years ago, so I'll try to compress it down to something that could be easily read.
Bill's brother in Malden, Mass., has no computer but it would be grand to be able to print Bill's story to mail to Earl Meuse. My memoir is also filled with
stories about other Marines; memories of our daily lives between and during  
battles in the Solomon Islands, Guam and Iwo Jima. I'll see if I can isolate
a few, if you think they might be of interest.


I overlooked one of the best Marines mentioned in the poem, "John" Balas, the
company barber who trimmed company member's heads as we sat on a coconut
stump. John, Harold Lesser and I met together at Marietta, OH in 1992, the
first time any of us had met since the war. John was a hell of a Marine,
driving a half-track on Iwo to evacuate the wounded under murderous fire. How
could I have overlooked that good man - who passed away about five years ago
at his home in Anchorage, AK..
MAURY WILLIAMS
Left to right: Coast Guardsman William T. Eck, Marines Maury T.
Williams, Fred H. McGee and William F. (Bill) Meuse. Photo made about 10
July, 1944 aboard Coast Guard Transport Ship U.S.S. Aquarius. Puppies were
born on voyage from Guadalcanal to Guam. Their mom was a war dog, a member of
the WD company on board.
PHOTO COURTESY MR. MAURY WILLIAMS
I spent a couple of hours remembering the final day I spent
with Corporal William F. Meuse, typing several pages while trying to paint a
glowing tribute to my old buddy. But when I was finished, I re-read what I'd
written and came to the conclusion that Bill's story was not much different
than that of any other man who gave his life that day. What I had written
began with the two of us standing at the forward port rail of our ship,
watching warships and planes bombard the island - and ended later the same
day with the mortar attack that took Bill's life. What happened to our
company between 0855 hours and about 1630 hours on 21 July, 1944, can be
summed up briefly: being shot at - not in position to return fire. None of
the men in our company got off a shot that day; it wasn't until the morning
of D-plus-One that our outfit advanced and got in our first shots at a well
entrenched enemy. The thing that made Bill different from the others lay
mainly in the fact that we were fellow reconnaissance-scouts and very good
friends. I decided that my best tribute could best be summed up in fewer
words so I discarded what I'd  written. Bill had already proven his bravery
at Bougainville. Four years ago I got in touch with his family in Malden,
Mass., and met his brother, who was, at the time we were liberating Guam,
fighting the Germans in Europe. Earl Meuse and I shook hands and I told him
all I could remember of Bill's last day on earth. He told me that Bill's body
had later been moved to the War in the Pacific (Punch Bowl) Cemetery in
Hawaii after the war, near the grave of another brave guy named Ernie Pyle.
Bill's tribute will always be...he was a true-blue friend and one helluva
Marine!
MAURY WILLIAMS WW II MEMORYS
ALL TEXT AND PHOTOS PROPERTY OF AND COPYRIGHT MR. MAURY WILLIAMS JR.
Many photos, the Guam battlesites revisited
Storys of some of the men
Guadalcanal
Thank you for the nice complements about the "Vet returns to Guam" story. Lest there be any misunderstanding by my fellow Marines, I met the elder Kawakubo to give him several articles I saved from his brothers clothing the day I shot him. There were no words of regret or apologies offered by either side. I just felt that his family, after all these years, would appreciate having his things (his hat, which contained his name in the lining, thus
giving me the tool to find the family, a flag, and his insignia patch from his sleeve. There was plenty of emotion that day by both families. War and Rembrance? Time is truly a healer when it comes to human emotions!

I was and will be forever a proud United States Marine!

Maury