Baker County in Southwest Georgia was covered in farmland in 1913, and none of us can imagine the difficulty that life dished out during that time. That’s where and when this story began.
He was born poor, but all the people he knew were, too, so nobody dwelled on the difference. He had three sisters and a brother that looked to him when their father abandoned them and their mother. And so it was that life created the choice of many young men in that day. Leave school and help take care of your family and save your farm or try to somehow finish school and have the education to hopefully find a way out.
He chose his family and left school at the age of 13. He worked the farm and provided all that he possibly could until his brother was old enough to take the reins. In the 1930s and 1940s the wolves were growling across the globe, so he felt the call to patriotic duty by enlisting in the United States Marine Corps. The work ethic built from the farm life and South Georgia heat translated into the intense work of a Marine, and he was stationed at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas.
San Antonio was far from home, but proved to be a good assignment for the young Marine as he met a young lady named Allie. Allie worked on base as a civilian in the communications office. She was smart and really knew how to work the telephone switchboard, which was of extreme importance in military communications at the time. She caught the eye of the Marine and before long they were married. Young love.
But then December 7, 1941, happened.
Life quickly changed for the young couple. U.S. Marines were called to duty around the globe, but specifically the Pacific Theatre would be a focal point after the aggression of the Empire of Japan. The former farmer-now Marine received word that his unit would be shipping out into battle in the Pacific. He was now a Staff Sergeant and would be leading young men into battle.
He put his arms around Allie for what might prove to be the last time. Allie’s tummy was now swelling with the life of their first child. He wondered if he would ever see his child or hold Allie close again. They kissed for what could be the last time and he slipped away from the embrace. He looked back one last time at Allie sobbing and waving. He looked at her swollen tummy for a few seconds.
And then he got on the bus.
Semper Fi.
But he thought of Allie and home for weeks. And weeks turned to months.
But then February 19, 1945, happened.
The invasion of Iwo Jima. This would prove to be the bloodiest battle in Marine history. The small island was a key focal point in ending the war because the landing strips there would allow American aircraft to resupply and refuel as it was less than 800 miles from the coast of Japan. There would be an amphibious Marine assault with two focal points – The landing strips and Mount Suribachi. Both points were high ground and the enemy was well entrenched and heavily fortified. This would be a suicide mission for thousands of Marines as the hills were topped with artillery, mortars, rockets, and snipers.
The Staff Sergeant and his platoon landed on the beach and began the climb up the hill to the peak of Suribachi. The whistles of passing bullets had already begun. The Staff Sergeant ordered the advance and hell broke loose. Tat-tat-tat-tat of machine guns ripped through the air. Explosions were all around. Marines were falling. The black volcanic sand ran crimson with the blood of young American men, and yet the resolve and aggressiveness of the Marines pushed forward despite heavy gunfire and shrapnel.
The Staff Sergeant screamed for more cover fire for the advance. He ordered the climb to continue and hundreds of Marines followed him charging up the hill.
But then it happened.
A Japanese sniper bullet tore through his abdomen as he ran forward. Half his stomach was blown out. He lay there dying thousands of miles from home. He would never see Allie or his baby. He would never see his sisters and brother again.
But somehow it happened.
While he lay bleeding to death, American Marines raised the red, white, and blue atop Mount Suribachi. But the cost was staggering. Marines and Navy personnel assisting sustained over 24,000 casualties. Of these, a total of 6140 died. But not this Marine. Not today.
The Staff Sergeant barely clinging to life was evacuated and somehow survived hell on earth. He awoke days later in a hospital with brain shock and half his stomach gone. But he was alive. I’m sure he thought of home and Allie.
But Iwo Jima was under American control thanks to the U.S. Marines. Thanks to victories in the Mariana Islands and Iwo Jima, the war would be ended a mere six months later with the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Semper Fi.
– – – – – –
And then December 1976 happened.
I sat down at my Nanna’s table in Waycross, Georgia, for a piece of buttered toast before we went to church. Papa Johnson came into the kitchen like a man on a mission.
“Allie, where is my red tie?”
“I think you left it on the nightstand.”
Then a five-year-old me interrupted their conversation.
“Papa, you got a purple ribbon on the wall! Did you win a race?”
He looked at the floor. “No, Tommy. I didn’t win anything.”
“Papa, I never heard of getting a ribbon for not winning. Can I get one, too?”
“No, Tommy. I got that ribbon so you don’t have to get one.”
My Papa Johnson sipped his coffee and looked away from me. He just stared quietly. I wondered then why he was acting so strangely, but looking back now and knowing what I know I feel so much gratitude and respect for him.
But then July 4, 1978 happened.
Papa gained his ultimate freedom July 4, 1978, as he entered the gates of heaven. Bullets and shells didn’t take that Marine, but cancer did. I wonder if there were any of those Marine buddies there to greet him.
And now you know my Papa. You know there was a man named Charlie Lee Johnson who came from a South Georgia farm in the depression to become a Marine Staff Sergeant. My Papa was a Devil Dog that led a team of Leathernecks charging up a hill on an island in the Pacific Ocean leading to a victory that changed history. But to me, just Papa.
Thank God for the men in America’s Greatest Generation that gave so much so you and I can have so much. The greatest nation in the world – The United States of America. Semper Fi.
