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A disclaimer: This is a world war 2 non-fiction based story which contains violence, honor and death. American and Japanese fatalities included. Discretion advised.
Introduction: The 1st Battalion, 10th Infantry, was destined to become, before the close of the battle of Saipan, both the most colorful and the busiest unit in the 27th Division. On the morning of July 7, its members were to stand in the face of the greatest single Banzai raid of the Pacific War. They were to die almost to a man in one of the more courageous struggles of American military history.
Chapter 1: Saigō Takanaga's Perspective[]
The American scum has us cornered, the enemy positioned in every direction. There is no way out alive, but we do not fear, we are faced with only two options. Honorable suicide, or the dreaded banzai attack. The 23rd Marines had a few of these during our Pacific skirmishes, as did all the other outfits. I dreaded these attacks and yet welcomed them, which is quite a paradox. They generated a great deal of fear but, when it was over, we would have the greatest loss. For hours, we could hear them preparing for their final attack. It was the end for us, and we knew it. Because it was against our heritage, our training, and our belief, we would not surrender. All that was left was a final charge, a pouring in of all our troops in one concentrated place with a pledge to take as many of them down with us as possible. "Tenno Heika Banzai, Gyokusai!" is shouted by our captain. Everyone groups together with whatever weapons on hand, some wield blades or firearms, others stones and cutlery knives. I tied a Rising Sun bandana around my forehead, symbolizing my service to the Emperor. I will not die in this charge! But if I do, let twenty Americans fall of my blade! We charged.
Chapter 2: William J. O'Brien's Perspective[]
For hours, we tend to slightly hear them getting ready for their retaliation attack, as it was the tip for them and they knew it. Suddenly there is what sounded like a million people screaming all at once, as a horde of mad men broke out of the darkness before us. Screams of anger and war-cries filled the air, Japanese officers leading them like devils straight from hell, their swords drawn and swishing in circles over their heads. Infantry soldiers were following their leaders, firing their weapons at us and screaming as they charged toward us. Everyone was shocked at the sight and panicked. Our weapons opened up, our mortars and machine guns fired continuously. No longer did I fire in bursts of three or five. Belt after belt of ammunition slipped through my rifle like water. I had no firing tactic, I just swung the barrel left and right hoping and praying to hit them. Bodies aground bodies built up in front of us, but they still charged us, running over their comrades’ fallen bodies. The mortar tubes became so hot from the rapid fire as did our machine gun barrels, that they could no longer be used. The men got closer and closer and were eventually on top of us!
Chapter 3: Saigō Takanaga's Experience[]
Although each attack had taken its toll, still we charged, more faster than the other ranks. My blade felt like air and my feet were as wind is, and I was the first of my division to make it to their line. I was hit by multiple shots from a inside a foxhole, so I dived above it and impaled the roofing, and as I ripped it out, the fire had stopped protruding from inside. My comrades decimated the American trenches as they had no form of close range protection. We slaughtered all inside it, completely followed by my rank and its followers. They were firing again, and I decided to dash for our gunships at the Saipan Beach. A few followed by me, but I was faster and less fatigued. I made it to the beach, but to my sight, I saw nothing. They had left without us, and as I dropped to my knees and brought my Katana to my abdomen, I felt an arm wrap my neck and lift me to my feet. "Filthy Jap!" was screamed in my ears, but the pain had gone, and was replaced by Adrenaline. I stabbed my Katana through myself and caught the American with the thrust as-well. I ripped it out, and fell to the sand. My courage was worthy of being counted among virtues only if it’s exercised in the cause of righteousness and rectitude, and to be shamed by this defeat, I oblige for the shame I have committed. I take my life, as well as the Americans.
Chapter 4: William J. O'Brien's Experience[]
Haunting memories can still visualize the enemy only a few feet away, his sword aimed at my body as I emptied a half-clip into him. The momentum carried him onto the roof. His blade came through and sliced my right shoulder deep, but not deep enough. Another soldier dived through the front with a bayonet, but he met my trench knife head on. I pushed his lifeless corpse off and left the foxhole to see the man who sliced me in the distance, running with two others. I went into a frenzied state and charged after them. Bullets whiz around me, screams from our trenches and war cries of them drowning me, it was deafening. The area reeked with death, and the smell of blood and gunpowder permeated the air. Full of fear and hate, with the desire to kill, I caught the enemies escaping. Like a savage animal, a beast, a devil, not a human at all, I sliced both men behind viciously, but my only thought was to kill, kill, kill that Japanese scum who killed half of my squadron and nearly me with them. I reached him on the sands with him kneeling in shame. I roughly head-locked him and raised him back to choke him to death. "Filthy Jap!" I screeched in rage. He flinched and a sharp numbness embodied me. He fell forward with a hole through his back. I was stunned and felt my legs just giveaway, and soon I was on my knees. The last sound of the ocean waves crashing through the beach invited me, and I went with it.
Chapter 5: Aftermath[]
Nothing could have prepared the Americans for the biggest banzai charge of the war which took place during the early morning of July 7. Realizing they were going to lose Saipan, huge numbers of Japanese committed mass suicide. But the self-inflicted slaughter was not over. The next day, July 8th, would bring mass Japanese suicides.
Their final death count was 4,311 men. The vast majority of those casualties died in the banzai charge.