Capture of Peleliu: Bravery on the Beach - September ‘98 World War II Feature

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“Once cleared, we went on to the beach. We were under heavy fire all the way. We were hit twice, set afire, and we lost one man. My tank was out of action by then–so many of the tanks were shot up and incapacitated–and I was trying to get things back together on the beach, and this is when I ran into the infantry.

“There was a whole conglomeration of troops just in one place–a dead target for the Japanese artillery and mortars–and although I had nothing to do with these infantrymen, other than to help them, they had to be gotten off of that beach or they would all be killed. They seemed to be paralyzed with fear. They wouldn’t move, so I screamed at them. I used all kinds of profanity. I had a Tommy gun slung on my arm and a Jap shovel over my shoulder and mud and blood all over me. I must have been a horrible sight to behold. These young Marines, when I started screaming at them, they started to move….But, really, to think, after all of these years that I would be remembered for this incident makes my whole life worthwhile.”

Parker went on to describe Orange Beach 3 in detail: “We had every conceivable kind of fire coming in. We had mortars coming in; we had anti-tank fire coming in; we had artillery coming in; we had machine guns, and it was about the worst place you could be. There were bodies and parts of bodies all around, and these infantry troops, those who had never seen combat or had never experienced such a barrage of fire, were just mesmerized, that’s all, and I don’t blame them. Insofar as being identified as a major in Bill Ross’ book, I had my gold leaves on my collar where they belong. That’s how he knew I was a major. I never turned my leaves under. When I was CO of B/1/7 on Guadalcanal, my two bars were right out in the open. As to time frame, you are only looking at a few minutes. Maybe five. After I had run the people off of the beach, I went on with what I was doing, and then a tremendous mortar barrage came right down where they had just left.”

Regarding my recollection that he had been the only person on his feet on that beach, Colonel Parker responded: “Well, that may or may not be entirely correct, but as far as I know, most everybody was hugging that sand. And the only reason I was on the beach was the fact my tank was shot out from under me. Otherwise, I would have been knocking out pillboxes or whatever we were supposed to do. The only reason I was walking was because my tank was burning and I had to leave it. But let me add that it has been a great pleasure, after all of these years, to meet a 16-year-old Marine as of September 15, 1944, and to be remembered, more than 48 years later, for doing a proper job.”

When I first met Colonel Parker in October 1992, I was shocked to learn that he had received no official recognition for his actions on September 15, 1944. As I told Bill Ross a few years back, what the major had accomplished on that beach was something that would be with me all of my days. It was my first time in combat, and I had been witness to the actions of a Marine Corps officer who had more guts than I ever saw exhibited again afterward. For a man to have done what he did, I think a Navy Cross would have been appropriate. While Colonel Parker is very modest and not inclined to take credit for personal bravery, I do have the satisfaction of this very brave Marine officer’s having written on the inside cover of my copy of Peleliu: Tragic Triumph the following: “To Charles H. Owen, the 16 year old private who was afraid the crazy sonofabitch might shoot me. Page 157. The unknown major, Arthur M. Parker, Jr.”

Lieutenant Colonel Arthur Middleton Parker–a descendent of Arthur Middleton, who, as a member of Congress, signed the Declaration of Independence on August 2, 1776–lost his last battle, a long, lingering fight against lung cancer, on October 27, 1995.

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