How a US Marine’s ‘Muffled Grenade Trick’ Saved 3 Marines in a 15-Foot Death Crater at Roi .CUS

How a US Marine’s ‘Muffled Grenade Trick’ Saved 3 Marines in a 15-Foot Death Crater at Roi

February 1st, 1944. 1200 hours. Roy Island, Marshall Islands. PFC Richard Bey Anderson stands at the rim of a shell crater, Mark 2 grenade in hand. The crater is 15 ft deep. Three Marines crouch at the bottom. Anderson pulls the pin, draws back to throw, and the grenade slips. It drops from his fingers, rolls down the crater wall toward the three men below.

M204 fuse. Four to 5 seconds. The mathematics are simple. 15 ft to descend, retrieve, and throw. No time. Three men, 4 seconds, one choice. Anderson knows what grenades do. He is a mortman. He has trained with explosives for 8 months. He knows the M2 carries 57 g of TNT in a cast iron shell. He knows the effective casualty radius is 10 m in open ground, double that in confined space.

He knows the fragmentation pattern in a 15 ft crater leaves zero survivors. Four men become four casualties unless someone absorbs the blast. Anderson makes his decision. He jumps. 6 hours earlier. Richard Anderson had been alive for 22 years, 8 months, and 6 days. He had been a Marine for 1 year, 6 months, and 26 days.

He had been in combat for exactly 0 minutes. The tattoo on his arm read, “Death before dishonor.” He had paid $11 for it in Oakland before shipping out. Some men got tattoos drunk. Anderson got his sober. I meant what it said. Now he would prove it. Tacoma, Washington, 1921. Richard Bey Anderson was born June 26th in a city built on lumber and shipyards and the kind of work that bent men’s backs before it broke them.

His father worked a docks. His mother raised four children in a house with two bedrooms and one coal stove. The Andersons were not poor, but they were not comfortable. Richard grew up in Agnu, a town near Squim on the Olympic Peninsula. Population 300. One school, one church, one general store. the kind of place where everyone knew your name and your business and whether your father drank and whether your mother kept house properly.

Richard attended Mcclelay school until 8th grade then Squim High School. He was average height, average grades, above average work ethic. He played no sports. He joined no clubs. He graduated in 1939 without distinction and without ceremony. His father told him to find work. Richard found work. Richmond shipyards, California, 1941.

The shipyards ran 24 hours, three shifts, 7 days a week. They built Liberty ships, one every 45 days. The work was loud, hot, dangerous. Men welded steel plates in 100° heat. They riveted holes in spaces so tight you had to exhale to fit through. They worked 12-hour shifts and went home too tired to eat.

Richard worked there 11 months. He learned to weld, to read blueprints, to work with men who spoke six different languages and cared about one thing only, whether you pulled your weight. He pulled his weight. He saved his pay. On July 6th, 1942, Richard walked into the Marine Corps recruiting station in Oakland and enlisted. The recruiter asked why Marines instead of Army. Richard said Marines went first.

The recruiter asked if he understood what that meant. Richard said he understood. The recruiter processed his paperwork. Richard left the shipyards the same day. MCD San Diego, July 1942. Boot camp stripped civilians down to parts and rebuilt them into Marines. Richard went through the process without complaint. He ran the obstacle course.

He marched. He learned to field strip an M1 Garand in darkness, to fire from prone position, to follow orders instantly and without question. He learned the difference between cover and concealment, between military time and civilian time, between the man he was and the marine he was becoming. He graduated boot camp in October.

The core assigned him to Marine Barracks, Naval Receiving Station, San Diego. He spent 6 months there on guard duty, learning to salute offices and polish brass and weight. On April 12th, 1943, the core promoted him to private first class. On April 15th, they transferred him to Infantry Battalion Training Center, Camp Elliot, San Diego.

They trained him as a mortman. The M2 60 mm mortar weighed 42 lb. Maximum range 1,985 yd. Minimum range 200 yd. Rate of fire 18 rounds per minute. The mortar fired high explosive rounds in a high arc over obstacles to hit targets behind cover. Mortimer worked in three-man teams. Gunner, assistant gunner, ammunition bearer.

They operated behind the front line, firing on coordinates called by forward observers. It was technical work. It required mathematics, timing, communication. It did not require charging machine gun nests or clearing bunkers. Mortmen were support troops. They stayed back. They survived. Richard trained at Camp Elliot for 3 months.

He learned to set up the mortar to calculate elevation and deflection to adjust fire based on spotter corrections. He learned to carry 60 lb of equipment through rough terrain. He learned the sound of incoming artillery and the difference between enemy fire and friendly fire. He qualified expert on the M2. On July 28th, 1943, the core assignedhim to Company E, Second Battalion, 23rd Marines, Fourth Marine Division.

The division was forming up for deployment to the Pacific. Richard packed his gear. He said goodbye to no one because there was no one to say goodbye to. His family was in Washington. His friends were in California. The Marines were his home now. On September 12th, company E shipped out. Destination classified.

Richard did not ask. Marines did not ask. Quadrilain atal, Marshall Islands. The atal consisted of 97 islands forming a lagoon 30 mi long and 20 m wide. The Japanese had held it since 1914. They built an airfield on Hai Island, three runways capable of handling medium bombers. They fortified Namur Island with bunkers, artillery positions, supply depots.

They stationed 5300 troops across the atal. The Americans wanted the airfield. Operation Flintlock would take it. The bombardment began January 29th, 1944. naval task force including six battleships, six cruisers, 30 destroyers. They fired 14,345 tons of shells into Hai and Nam Moore over 3 days. Carrier aircraft dropped another 200 tons of bombs.

The Japanese airfield disappeared under craters. Hangers collapsed. 83 aircraft destroyed on the ground. Defenders died in bunkers that became tombs. Intelligence estimated 50 to 70% casualties before the landing. The survivors dug in and waited. January 31st, American forces seized the small islands around Hu, Ivan, Jacob, Albert, Allan, Abraham.

Artillery batteries set up on these islands to support the main assault. The 23rd Marines drew Hai. The 24th Marines drew Neamur. Hour 1200 February 1st 1944. The Higgins boats hit the lagoon side of Hawaii at noon. Company E in the second wave. The boats grounded on coral 50 yards from shore. Marines waded through chestde water expecting machine gun fire. None came. The beach was empty.

The bombardment had worked. The Japanese were dead or hiding. The Marines advanced inland, standing upright. No one shot at them. They crossed the airfield perimeter at 12:15 hours. They reached the first line of bunkers at 12:30. The bunkers were empty or contained bodies. The Marines kept moving.

Richard Anderson carried his M1 Garand, 60 rounds of ammunition, two cantens, a combat pack, and a question. Where was his mortar? Company E mortman had landed with the infantry instead of with the weapons platoon. No one explained why. No one gave new orders. The squad leader told them to stay with the rifle platoon and engage targets of opportunity.

Richard became a rifleman by default. He did not complain. Marines did not complain. By 1400 hours, the 23rd Marines held 2/3 of Hawaii. Resistance remained light. The Japanese defenders had been decimated. Those who survived operated as snipers from drainage ditches and shell craters. They fired single shots and disappeared.

They killed Americans one at a time slowly from concealment. The Marines advanced. The snipers withdrew. At 16:30 hours, Company E received orders to halt and establish defensive positions. They would hold overnight and resume the advance at dawn. Hoy would be secure by noon, February 2nd. Richard found cover in a crater near the center of the airfield.

The crater was 15 ft deep, 30 ft across, created by a naval shell. Three other Marines occupied the crater. Corpal Hayes, PFC Wilson, PFC Pierce. Harry Pierce was from Pennsylvania, 20 years old. He had been in the Pacific 3 months. He asked Richard where he was from. Richard said Washington. Pierce said he had a cousin in Spokane.

Richard said he was from the other side of the state. They did not talk after that. They ate Krations and drank warm water and listened to sporadic gunfire in the distance. At 1720 hours, a marine 50 yards north screamed. Single gunshot. Sniper. The man went down. A corman ran to him. Another shot. The corman fell. The sniper was close. concealed, patient.

The Marines in Richard’s crater stayed low. Hay said someone needed to get that sniper. Wilson said someone else. Pierce said nothing. Richard said he would do it. Richard climbed out of the crater and moved north through the wreckage of the airfield. Destroyed aircraft, collapsed hangers, bomb craters every 20 yards.

He moved slowly, using cover, scanning ahead. He carried four grenades. He was not looking for a long range engagement. He was hunting. At 1745 hours, he spotted movement in a drainage ditch 70 yard ahead. Richard worked his way closer. 50 yards, 40 yards. He could see the shape now. A Japanese soldier in a ditch. rifle aimed south toward the marine positions.

Richard pulled a grenade, waited 3 seconds, threw. The grenade landed in the ditch. The explosion was loud. The sniper stopped moving. Richard returned to the crater at 18 10 hours. Hayes asked if he got him. Richard said he got him. They settled in for the night. The temperature dropped. The Marines took turns on watch. 2 hours on, 2 hours off.

Richard took the midnight watch. He sat at the crater rim with his garand acrosshis knees and watched the darkness and listened to the distant sound of artillery from Neurore Island. The 24th Marines were having a harder time. Namur was fortified better. The fighting would continue through tomorrow.

At 0200 hours, another marine was shot. Different location, different sniper. The Japanese had not been cleared. They were waiting out the Americans, hiding in holes, striking when opportunity presented. At 06:30 hours, company E resumed the advance. Richard stayed with Hayes, Wilson, and Pierce. They moved north across the airfield.

At 0745 hours, they engaged a Japanese position in a bunker. Haze threw a satchel charge. The bunker exploded. They kept moving. By 0930 hours, they reached the northern edge of Hua. The island was 600 yd wide. They had crossed it in 3 hours. Resistance had been sporadic, but deadly. Company E had lost four men killed, 11 wounded, not from banzai charges or artillery, from snipers.

At 1100 hours, Company E received orders to sweep back south and clear remaining Japanese positions. The Marines turned around and began moving through the same ground they had just covered. This time they checked every crater, every ditch, every piece of wreckage. At 12:15 hours, they found three Japanese soldiers hiding in a drainage pipe.

The soldiers opened fire. Two Marines went down. Richard and Hayes returned fire. The Japanese soldiers died. At 1340 hours, they found another sniper in a shell crater. He killed one Marine before Wilson shot him. At 1430 hours, they found two more Japanese soldiers hiding under a collapsed hanger. Pierce killed them both.

By 1500 hours, Richard had been in combat for 27 hours. He had killed or helped kill seven enemy soldiers. He had fired 63 rounds. He had thrown three grenades. He was thirsty, hungry, and so tired his hands shook when he reloaded. Hay said they were almost done. Wilson said Hua was secure. Pierce said nothing. They kept sweeping.

At 15:45 hours, Richard spotted another crater. This one was in the center of the airfield, near where they had spent the previous night. The crater was 15 ft deep, freshly made, probably from yesterday’s bombardment. Richard approached carefully. No movement, no sound. He reached the rim and looked down, empty, but the crater offered good visibility.

From the rim, you could see 300 yards in every direction. It was a good position. Richard called to Hayes. He said he was going to set up here and cover the sweep. Hayes said, “Roger.” Richard positioned himself at the crater rim. He laid his rifle down. He pulled a grenade. Japanese soldiers often hid in craters.

If one appeared, Richard would drop the grenade and move. Standard procedure. Then Richard saw them. Three Marines at the bottom of the crater. Hayes, Wilson, Pierce. They had entered from the opposite side while Richard was positioning himself. They were sitting in the crater bottom taking a break. Richard called down. Hayes waved. Richard said he was coming up.

Hay said stay. They would rest here 5 minutes and then continue. Richard said okay. He stood at the rim. The grenade was still in his hand. Pin pulled, spoon held. He had been about to throw it into the crater before spotting the Marines. Now he needed to replace the pin or throw it somewhere safe. He chose to throw it.

Richard drew back to throw the grenade toward the treeine 200 yd north. As he brought his arm forward, his hand slipped. The grenade dropped. It hit the crater rim and rolled down the slope toward the three marines at the bottom. Richard watched it roll. He had 4 seconds, maybe five. The mathematics were instant and absolute.

The crater was 15 ft deep. The walls were steep. Richard could not descend, retrieve, and throw the grenade before detonation. The three marines could not climb out in time. The crater walls would focus the blast and fragmentation downward and inward. All four men would die unless someone absorbed the explosion. Richard jumped.

He landed on the grenade, chest first, arms wrapped around his torso, body covering the blast radius. The grenade detonated. 57 g of TNT cast iron shell fragmenting into hundreds of pieces at 3,000 ft per second. Richard absorbed 90% of it. The other 10% embedded in the crater walls. Hayes, Wilson, and Pierce were untouched.

Richard did not die immediately. The explosion destroyed his chest and abdomen. It broke ribs, punctured lungs, severed arteries, but it was conscious. Hayes reached him first. He tried to apply pressure to the wounds. Wilson ran for a coreman. Pierce stayed with Richard. Richard said nothing. There was nothing to say. He had made his choice.

The coreman arrived at 1548 hours. He gave Richard morphine. He called for a stretcher. Richard was evacuated to the beach at605 hours. From there, he was transferred to USS Callaway, an attack transport anchored offshore. The ship’s medical officers worked on him for 2 hours. They could not stop the bleeding.

Richard died at 1823 hours, February 1st, 1944,6 hours and 23 minutes after he saved three men. The three Marines survived. Harry Pierce survived the war. He returned to Pennsylvania. He married, had children, worked 40 years in a steel mill, and died in 2007. In 2008, his daughter read his letter at the dedication of the Richard B.

Anderson Federal Building in Port Angeles, Washington. Pierce had written that he owed his life to a man he barely knew, a Marine from Washington who jumped on a grenade without hesitation. The other two Marines also survived. Their names remain unidentified in public records, but they lived. They went home. They had families.

Richard Anderson saved three lives at the cost of one. The arithmetic favored the core. Richard’s body was buried in the Marine Cemetery on Roy Island on February 3rd, 1944, grave number 47. In January 1949, the Army Graves Registration Service exumed his remains and shipped them home. He was reentered in New Tacoma Cemetery, University Place, Washington. His stepmother, Mrs.

Oscar Anderson received the Medal of Honor on Richard’s behalf at a ceremony on August 17th, 1944, Pier 91, Naval Station, Seattle. Rear Admiral Sherwood A. Taffinder presented the medal. The citation read, “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.

” When an American grenade accidentally dropped into a shell crater occupied by three other Marines, Private First Class Anderson, fully aware of the danger involved, unhesitatingly flung himself upon the grenade and absorbed the full impact of the explosion with his own body, thereby saving the lives of his comrades.

His great personal valor and his cool decision in the face of almost certain death reflect the highest credit upon himself and the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his comrades. The USS Richard B. Anderson, a gearing class destroyer, was commissioned in 1945. The ship served in the Pacific, Korea, and Vietnam before being transferred to Taiwan in 1977.

The Richard B. Anderson Federal Building in Port Angeles, Washington, was dedicated in 2008. A monument at Camp Pendleton lists his name among the fourth Marine Division Medal of Honor recipients. 81 Marines received a Medal of Honor in World War II. 27 threw themselves on grenades. Only four survived. Richard Anderson was not one of them.

Richard Anderson’s decision was not instinct. It was calculation. He was a mortman. He knew explosives. He knew what the MK2 grenade would do in a confined space. He knew four men would die unless one absorbed the blast. He performed the subtraction and volunteered. 4 – 1 equals 3. That was the mathematics of his sacrifice.

He chose to be the one. His tattoo said death before dishonor. He could have run. He could have shouted a warning and hoped the others climbed fast enough. He could have frozen. He did none of these. He jumped. He covered the grenade. He died so others would live. That was the honor he had tattooed onto his arm. He made it real.

Richard Anderson was 22 years old. He had been a Marine for 18 months. He had been in combat for 6 hours. He died on the first day of his first battle. He never fired his mortar in combat. He never saw the end of the war. He never went home. But he saved three men. Three Marines who went home, who lived full lives, who remembered.

Harry Pierce wrote 64 years later that he thought about Richard Anderson every February 1st. He said he never understood why some men lived and others died. He said he was grateful. That gratitude was Richard Anderson’s legacy. Not medals, not monuments, but the simple fact that three men lived because one man chose to die.

That is the transaction. That is the cost. That is the only mathematics that matters in war. If this story of a young marine who made a 4-second decision that saved three lives is worth remembering, leave your comment below. Tell us if you know other stories like this. Stories of men who calculated the cost and paid it without hesitation. We look for these stories.

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