Stories by Sixth Division Marines
The Battle for Sugar Loaf Hill
by Michael H Senko (29th Mar-2-F).1992
Michael H Senko was born July 29, 1921 in Buffalo NY and died on March 31, 2004 in Tucson AZ. At age 92, he wrote this memoir of his experience on Sugar Loaf Hill. It was sent to us by his son, Mike Senko, a former Marine Sergeant who served in Vietnam and is the former ambassador to the Marshall Islands and Mongolia.
 Camp Lejeune (prob) 1944.jfif)
Michael H. Senko (right) in World War II
The battle for Sugar Loaf Hill remains a subject of much interest to historians due to its ferocity. I want to add my memories to those of the many prominent writers (William Manchester, Eugene Sledge, Victor Hansen) who have written about it. Until recently, I had tried to put the battle, and in fact all the 75 or so days I spent on Okinawa, quickly out of my mind every time I started to think about them. Many of my memories are now somewhat jumbled and I have fewer and fewer old comrades and friends to help with my recollections.
I landed on Okinawa on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945 as a Corporal and .30 caliber machine gun section leader in Company F, 2nd Battalion, 29th Regiment, Sixth Marine Division. I had been in the Marine Corps since 1939 as the Great Depression had left a scarcity of promising jobs for a high school dropout.
The Japanese did not strongly oppose the Easter amphibious landing. Rather, they dug in in the interior of the island and planned to bleed us badly, which they were able to do. The 6th Marine Division, while new, was filled with combat veterans from other Marine units, and we moved rapidly in the northern part of the island and the Motobu Peninsula, winning praise from even the Army. We were then moved south to help relieve the Army’s 27th Infantry Division, which had encountered stiff resistance. We moved into position and prepared to attack the heavily fortified Shuri line. That was where we encountered Sugar Loaf Hill and two smaller hills to the flanks code named Half Moon and Horseshoe. This would have been about May 12 or 13.
The 22nd Marines G company first tried to take Sugar Loaf, and in several assaults were repulsed over the course of a couple of days, taking very heavy casualties from Japanese machine guns and artillery. My Company, F, of the 29th Marines, had seen some hellish days along some railroad tracks nearby and was next assigned to take the hill. My machine gun section was attached to a rifle platoon led by Lt. Charlie Behan, who had played football for the Detroit Lions. He and I had attended Infantry Leaders and Instructors School together at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Lt. Behan assigned me to place two machine guns on the top of the left of the hill. I remember him saying, “Mike, I’m counting on you.”
We got to the top of the hill, but there was very stiff resistance and mass confusion and men were falling everywhere. I saw Lt. Behan run across the top and front of the hill, and he was cut down and died there. I got my .30 caliber water-cooled machine gun up on the left side of the top. Someone near me leapt in a hole on top of another Marine and was immediately hit almost directly by a mortar, which may have saved the man underneath. Grenades, mortars, and small arms fire were everywhere, with no sign of slacking. I saw Cpl. Ronca and his team [Note: apparently from another machine gun section] had also gotten a machine gun to the top of the hill, but it was quickly put out of action and Cpl. Ronca was killed or wounded. It apparently became evident that there were too few of us left to hold the hill and we were ordered to pull back. We saved our machine gun, but my memory gets hazy here. I know I helped several wounded down to a secondary line. A Navy Corpsman advised me to calm down,but I continued helping other wounded. One wounded Marine couldn’t see.
It was difficult to regroup, and two of my close friends in the squad – Ike Wanamaker and John Blanchard – did not even rejoin us until the next day. Ike later told me what happened: he and Blanchard had not yet gotten up the hill when they encountered an intense mortar barrage and small arms fire that killed Lt. Behan and Sgt. Fisher and took out Cpl. Ronca and his crew. They quickly came under fire from the right base of the hill and set up their gun and returned fire. They then threw smoke grenades for cover, and continued moving and setting up, firing, and throwing smoke until they were down and away from the hill. They believe they were the last off the hill from our assault. They settled down with a rag tag unit of the 22nd Marines who had a position a couple of hundred yards in front of Sugar Loaf. They rejoined us in the morning and accompanied us to assault either Half Moon or Horseshoe (I forget which) where they were both hit by shrapnel in another day and night of intense fighting.
We had dug in and were holding our positions, continuously throwing hand grenades over the crest of the hill. About midnight the Japanese began attacking and jumping into our foxholes. I lost a .30 caliber air-cooled machine gun (we had disabled it) and several more Company F friends in that fight. I remember specifically Corporals Hebrank and Allen. Due to constant casualties, we had lots of replacements in my squad and in our ranks and I no longer remember all the names.
Later in the night, we got word to pull back, but two of my best friends, Wayne Snyder and Bill Luecke, were trapped in a shell hole and couldn’t get out. We learned at daylight they were missing. The platoon commander, Lt. Bob Sherer, called for volunteers to find them. We all volunteered and started up the hill, and fortunately we quickly found them coming down. I believe one or both of their weapons had been destroyed in combat that day. A Japanese soldier then attacked their hole and got off one shot which hit Luecke in the shoulder and traveled down into Snyder’s groin. The Japanese soldier’s rifle then jammed and Snyder grabbed it and pulled the soldier into the hole, where his war ended. Another note on Snyder – during the fighting, he was hit in the helmet by a bullet that went inside, around the helmet, and out the top. He still has the helmet as I write this.
Michael Senko in later years
Our ranks were now badly depleted, and we got word the 4th Marines were moving up to relieve us. I remember the Japanese resistance was still strong and the shelling accurate and intense as we moved out.
Our Okinawa battle was not over, however. We regrouped in reserve and on June 4 made a landing in heavy rain further south. Many more nightmarish and memorable days lay ahead. Our Company Commander, Captain Fowler, was killed in this fighting, while we were perhaps moving toward Yoke Easy Hill or some such name. I was sent for explosives to close caves on Yoke Easy, and while returning through some buildings, I encountered a Japanese soldier crouching in the corner of a wall with his rifle pointing at me.I think he must have been wounded or he would have finished me. Others must have seen him too, and he did not last long.
Several days later on June 13, I was passing a cave when I saw feet retreating into it. It was a Japanese, and I saw he had thrown a grenade near me. I quickly stood up against a hill near the cave. While I was hit by fragments, I felt I was lucky I had not dived to the ground where I believe I would have been more exposed to the blast. I was evacuated to a hospital ship which took me to an Army hospital in Saipan.
Okinawa was secured about a week later, on June 21. I rejoined Fox Company on Guam, and we began preparing to invade Japan.
Michael H. Senko (right) in World War II
The battle for Sugar Loaf Hill remains a subject of much interest to historians due to its ferocity. I want to add my memories to those of the many prominent writers (William Manchester, Eugene Sledge, Victor Hansen) who have written about it. Until recently, I had tried to put the battle, and in fact all the 75 or so days I spent on Okinawa, quickly out of my mind every time I started to think about them. Many of my memories are now somewhat jumbled and I have fewer and fewer old comrades and friends to help with my recollections.
I landed on Okinawa on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945 as a Corporal and .30 caliber machine gun section leader in Company F, 2nd Battalion, 29th Regiment, Sixth Marine Division. I had been in the Marine Corps since 1939 as the Great Depression had left a scarcity of promising jobs for a high school dropout.
The Japanese did not strongly oppose the Easter amphibious landing. Rather, they dug in in the interior of the island and planned to bleed us badly, which they were able to do. The 6th Marine Division, while new, was filled with combat veterans from other Marine units, and we moved rapidly in the northern part of the island and the Motobu Peninsula, winning praise from even the Army. We were then moved south to help relieve the Army’s 27th Infantry Division, which had encountered stiff resistance. We moved into position and prepared to attack the heavily fortified Shuri line. That was where we encountered Sugar Loaf Hill and two smaller hills to the flanks code named Half Moon and Horseshoe. This would have been about May 12 or 13.
The 22nd Marines G company first tried to take Sugar Loaf, and in several assaults were repulsed over the course of a couple of days, taking very heavy casualties from Japanese machine guns and artillery. My Company, F, of the 29th Marines, had seen some hellish days along some railroad tracks nearby and was next assigned to take the hill. My machine gun section was attached to a rifle platoon led by Lt. Charlie Behan, who had played football for the Detroit Lions. He and I had attended Infantry Leaders and Instructors School together at Camp Lejeune in North Carolina. Lt. Behan assigned me to place two machine guns on the top of the left of the hill. I remember him saying, “Mike, I’m counting on you.”
We got to the top of the hill, but there was very stiff resistance and mass confusion and men were falling everywhere. I saw Lt. Behan run across the top and front of the hill, and he was cut down and died there. I got my .30 caliber water-cooled machine gun up on the left side of the top. Someone near me leapt in a hole on top of another Marine and was immediately hit almost directly by a mortar, which may have saved the man underneath. Grenades, mortars, and small arms fire were everywhere, with no sign of slacking. I saw Cpl. Ronca and his team [Note: apparently from another machine gun section] had also gotten a machine gun to the top of the hill, but it was quickly put out of action and Cpl. Ronca was killed or wounded. It apparently became evident that there were too few of us left to hold the hill and we were ordered to pull back. We saved our machine gun, but my memory gets hazy here. I know I helped several wounded down to a secondary line. A Navy Corpsman advised me to calm down,but I continued helping other wounded. One wounded Marine couldn’t see.
It was difficult to regroup, and two of my close friends in the squad – Ike Wanamaker and John Blanchard – did not even rejoin us until the next day. Ike later told me what happened: he and Blanchard had not yet gotten up the hill when they encountered an intense mortar barrage and small arms fire that killed Lt. Behan and Sgt. Fisher and took out Cpl. Ronca and his crew. They quickly came under fire from the right base of the hill and set up their gun and returned fire. They then threw smoke grenades for cover, and continued moving and setting up, firing, and throwing smoke until they were down and away from the hill. They believe they were the last off the hill from our assault. They settled down with a rag tag unit of the 22nd Marines who had a position a couple of hundred yards in front of Sugar Loaf. They rejoined us in the morning and accompanied us to assault either Half Moon or Horseshoe (I forget which) where they were both hit by shrapnel in another day and night of intense fighting.
We had dug in and were holding our positions, continuously throwing hand grenades over the crest of the hill. About midnight the Japanese began attacking and jumping into our foxholes. I lost a .30 caliber air-cooled machine gun (we had disabled it) and several more Company F friends in that fight. I remember specifically Corporals Hebrank and Allen. Due to constant casualties, we had lots of replacements in my squad and in our ranks and I no longer remember all the names.
Later in the night, we got word to pull back, but two of my best friends, Wayne Snyder and Bill Luecke, were trapped in a shell hole and couldn’t get out. We learned at daylight they were missing. The platoon commander, Lt. Bob Sherer, called for volunteers to find them. We all volunteered and started up the hill, and fortunately we quickly found them coming down. I believe one or both of their weapons had been destroyed in combat that day. A Japanese soldier then attacked their hole and got off one shot which hit Luecke in the shoulder and traveled down into Snyder’s groin. The Japanese soldier’s rifle then jammed and Snyder grabbed it and pulled the soldier into the hole, where his war ended. Another note on Snyder – during the fighting, he was hit in the helmet by a bullet that went inside, around the helmet, and out the top. He still has the helmet as I write this.
Michael Senko in later years
Our ranks were now badly depleted, and we got word the 4th Marines were moving up to relieve us. I remember the Japanese resistance was still strong and the shelling accurate and intense as we moved out.
Our Okinawa battle was not over, however. We regrouped in reserve and on June 4 made a landing in heavy rain further south. Many more nightmarish and memorable days lay ahead. Our Company Commander, Captain Fowler, was killed in this fighting, while we were perhaps moving toward Yoke Easy Hill or some such name. I was sent for explosives to close caves on Yoke Easy, and while returning through some buildings, I encountered a Japanese soldier crouching in the corner of a wall with his rifle pointing at me.I think he must have been wounded or he would have finished me. Others must have seen him too, and he did not last long.
Several days later on June 13, I was passing a cave when I saw feet retreating into it. It was a Japanese, and I saw he had thrown a grenade near me. I quickly stood up against a hill near the cave. While I was hit by fragments, I felt I was lucky I had not dived to the ground where I believe I would have been more exposed to the blast. I was evacuated to a hospital ship which took me to an Army hospital in Saipan.
Okinawa was secured about a week later, on June 21. I rejoined Fox Company on Guam, and we began preparing to invade Japan.