Joining the Marines at 17
Chipman talks about when he first heard about Pearl Harbor and joining the Marines at age 17. He speaks at length about different motivations for young people joining the war before being drafted. He also addresses the importance of sharing his war experiences, even when others who haven't been in battle will never fully comprehend the traumas of war.
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (10:50)

Hardening into Marines
Chipman describes the profound effects of boot camp in shaping self-discipline, teamwork and pride. Chipman's childhood in a physically active and very disciplined household ease the transition to the rigors of boot camp.
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (16:05)

Bonding and growing
After boot camp, Chipman's division was assigned to Camp Pendleton for four weeks of infantry training school. They were then transported to Hawaii and assigned as replacements for the 4th Marine Division.

The following excerpt recounts the last period of training when the young Marines met and bonded with the veteran Marines, fresh from battle in the Marianas. The respect and affection between Marines was immediate. After months of training with battle-hardened veterans, the young Marines became veterans, "emotionally and mentally."
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (7:36)

A deafening, deadly battle
In this excerpt, Clayton Chipman discusses his psychological preparation before battle on Iwo Jima and reflects on the difference between being scared and being afraid. He describes the 4th Marine Division's brutal landing on Iwo Jima — a day filled with relentless, deafening artillery.
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (14:52)

Slow, bloody going on Iwo
As the days and nights pass on Iwo Jima, Clayton Chipman and his fellow Marines measured their progress by yards as they crawled across the island's airfields under fire.
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (13:07)

The million-dollar wound
In this excerpt, Clayton Chipman continues to describe the hours leading up to the ninth day on Iwo Jima, the day of his "million-dollar wound." Marines were decimated as they fought to take the "Meat Grinder, " "Turkey Knob, " the "Amphitheater" and "Hill 382."
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (9:49)

Nightmares, gratefulness and guilt
Clayton Chipman was evacuated from Iwo Jima to an Army hospital in Pearl Harbor. In this excerpt, Chipman notes that he and other fellow Marines suffered recurring battle nightmares. He also recalls his painful emotions of gratefulness and guilt. He asks, "How can you be thankful and feel guilty at the same time?"
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (2:48)

Bonds for a lifetime
After his recovery, Clayton Chipman joined a baseball team in Oahu, a team that was actually a ploy to build an MP Company to be sent back to Saipan. Chipman was stationed at Saipan to flush out any enemy remaining on six islands.

In this excerpt, Chipman describes his psychological stages in the battle of Iwo Jima. Chipman describes the elation of returning home and recounts some of the challenges of returning to civilian life. This excerpt concludes with thoughts on his religious faith and the enduring bonds amongst Marines who have fought together.
read transcript  | listen to RealAudio clip (5:16)

The million-dollar wound
In this excerpt, Clayton Chipman continues to describe the hours leading up to the ninth day on Iwo Jima, the day of his "million-dollar wound." Marines were decimated as they fought to take the "Meat Grinder, " "Turkey Knob, " the "Amphitheater" and "Hill 382."
audio clip (9:49)

Chipman: … As we reached the second airfield — it went on an angle to where we were going — so it was one place where we could use tanks, and five tanks went on the airfield, one after the other, in a column. And there was one regiment on one side of the airfield and our 23rd, our regiment was on the other side, and we moved along as we could. We got about halfway down the airfield, and the first tank blew up. It hit a land mine, which was a torpedo buried with a detonator on it, and those big driving cogs, probably two feet across or so, maybe six inches, just like you threw a Frisbee. They just went up.

And I had asked for the tank corps in boot camp. Boy, I was glad I was not in a tank corps. But in about 10 minutes, four of the five tanks blew up. So we were, our feelings were, "God, those poor boys in those tanks, oh, man." So we weren't so bad being out as an infantryman. To be in a tank like that and have something blow up, just, it just was a series of pillboxes and caves and so forth and, of course, you took one at a time. You had to clear away the machine-guns and the riflemen first then get at that.

Another thing that I was afraid of — I was afraid of being alone totally — I didn't want to be with six guys, I wanted to be with one or two. When it came my turn, we called in air support. When you do that, one person has to climb, or crawl, out maybe 20, 25 yards in front of the lines, and then you lay out a panel. Well, the aviator sees all those panels, he knows exactly where our lines are. But when you're crawling out there, you don't know where a spider hole is with a Jap hidden in it, you don't know where there's a cave or machine-gun nest, but you have to crawl out there and do it. And I didn't like that very much.

Each night just was a total nightmare, and one was worse than the previous one. At night they didn't use aircraft for support; they'd call in 16-inch fire from the battleships, like the Indianapolis was out there, and when they'd hit in front of our lines, usually to break up one of the forward observers probably observed the flash of artillery piece or a gathering of Japanese, it would just bounce us off the ground. Those shells were so powerful that you just bounced off the ground — 10, 12 inches.

The other experience I had which was quite interesting was the first foxhole I dug one night, I got down about two feet or so and I hit an ant colony. That was another unique experience. I got out of there in a hurry and dug another foxhole. There's some interesting things happened. Once it gets dark, Marines do not leave their foxhole — for any reason. I guess there are some, but not many. Any time there's movement, you know, definite movement, you would shoot.

In the morning there was always one or two or three Japanese that were killed behind us because they had infiltrated our lines. Of course, we'd always have two or three in a foxhole and take turns staying awake. The other ones would doze off. At night just before it got dark, we'd get replacements, and they would stop and they would say, "Chip, here's two guys. Talk to them and break them in," you know. You do what you could, and not being a teacher at the time and so forth you'd tell them what you could, what we do, and so forth.

The next morning you'd move out and these guys would move out with you and, of course, you were taking care of yourself and whatever you're supposed to do. The next evening they were gone. The replacements really took it because, as bad as the beach was, coming across that beach I think it was good, it was a good experience because you learned how to move and you learned caution.

I'll deviate from sticking with my real experiences to something that was sent to me by a Colonel Macahill, who was in charge of replacements on the island, because it was, it indicates what the battle was like. He sent a tape that indicated each evening he would bring replacements up after he found out how many a different company needed. He said the last two weeks of the battle, it was so bad that he was ordered to go out to the hospital ships and take anybody that could eat and was not bleeding, and those guys had to go back in the line.

I just thank heaven that I was out of there earlier because I would have been one that would have had to get back in the fighting again. As we went down the airfield — you always hear about friendly fire and, of course, when different groups are going in and get orders you lose contact between them — and there was some Marines that got ahead of us and for a minute or two we fired at those people. I don't think we hit anybody, but in that confusion, it can occur.

Well, as we got past the first airfield we ran into what they called the "Meat Grinder," "Turkey Knob," the "Amphitheater" and "Hill 382." Well, we drew up to Hill 382, which was the second highest hill on the island, which had a radar screen above and it was— … The only other group I know was F-224 drew the Amphitheater and after three days on Hill 382 and they're fighting the Amphitheater they switched us over. I don't know why. We just took horrendous casualties trying to get that hill. We were up it six or seven times and always got knocked off of it.

The approach to it was like being in a gully with maybe 75 yards of flat, and then Hill 382 went up, real rugged, and then behind was a concave wall or cliff, and I was ordered — by this time we were working with strangers, we didn't, half the people we were with we didn't know. One outfit would get disseminated, and they'd bond two outfits together and so forth. I don't know who ordered me there, but I threw hand grenades in about four caves, and the fifth one was piled with sea bags, so I emptied a clip into it and I came running back to, we were working with, we called in a flame-throwing tank to work on the pillbox and I was covering our rear, you know, and as I finished with the caves turned around and saw the flame ending going out of the tank, so if I waited too long the Japs would come back in and start firing out of the opening again, so I ran.

As I ran across the field I saw a roll of Japanese money — I wasn't going to take souvenirs — I picked up that money, had the BAR in the left hand, picked up the money, put it in my jacket pocket, ran past the tank, hit against the pillbox and the Japs started zeroing in on the flame-thrower tank and seven of us got wounded all at once. So that was my souvenir. I didn't have it for a minute. I don't know whether that was prophecy or what it was. I went back to the battle aid station—

Van Ells: Were you able to go by yourself?

Chipman: Oh, yeah. I got hit in the left, I got hit in the left shoulder. I was ambulatory. When I got back there, one of my friends was back there, and he says when they took the jacket off and so forth he said, "Oh, heck, you've got a million-dollar wound." It was probably worth more than a million dollars. It went through the shoulder. The corpsman patched me up and said, "You to back to the beach hospital. … O the way back to the beach where the beach hospital was, you couldn't see anybody. You know, you'd walk and didn't see anybody. All of a sudden a helmet popped up, and one of the mortar sergeants says, "How's it going up there?" And here a whole mortar squad was underground, you know. You couldn't see a thing.

… The hospital ship had pulled out. So to get us out of the shelling that was still going on, they put us on Higgins boats and they sent us out to the Indianapolis. When we got to the Indianapolis, they put us in officers quarters — muddy, dirty, filthy, bloody — and they put us between white sheets. Every three hours they'd come in and they'd give us shots. I don't know what they were.

But anyways I spent a night on the Indianapolis, which you know was sunk right at the end of the war off the Marianas. It had delivered the components for the atomic bombs and it left and the captain didn't zig-zag, and they lost so many people. I often reflect, you know, some poor officer lost a night's sleep because I slept in his bed and the poor guy, who knows what happened to him out there.