Pearl Harbor, he returned to the United States from Canada to enlist. His parents were originally from Ontario, Canada, but left Ogden during the Depression because his dad was unable to find employment. John served aboard ship P.S.C. 1455-Navy Control Class Special Vessel. He participated in five invasions in South Pacific, in which he was assigned to an attack unit. His Purple Heart was received for wounds at Okinawa. John was involved in the invasion of Saipan in the Mariana Islands from June 16-25, 1944; the invasion of Tinian Island in the Mariana Islands from July 24-28, 1944; the Invasion of Iwo Jima from February 19-25, 1945; and the invasion of Okinawa in Ryukyu Island. He was then assigned as part of the occupation force in Korea from September 27-October 16, 1945. Among the honors he received were a World War II Victory Medal, Asiatic Pacific medal with three stars, Purple Heart, and Philippine Liberation medal. Submitted by Debra L. Taylor, daughter Glen L. Van Leeuwen As a seaman first class in the U.S. Navy, Glen served on an aircraft carrier in the Pacific and also played in the band on the ship. He was awarded an honor by the First Division for saving the ship from damage during a hurricane at Guam. George Edward Wahlen I was trained a Navy corpsman; but after months of emptying bedpans, I volunteered to join a Marine Corps infantry unit. I was assigned to the Fifth Marine Division. After training for six months at Camp Pendleton, in San Diego, and another six months at Camp Tarawa in Hawaii, we shipped out to join the fighting in the Eastern Pacific in December of 1944. After a few days, we were briefed on our target, the small island of Iwo Jima. I will never forget the date for D-Day was set for the 19 February, 1945. I was assigned to Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 26th Regiment of the 5th Marine Division. On the day of the invasion, we were held in reserve; and we circled off shore. The first wave of Marines experienced significant casualties, leaving the dead and dying everywhere. When we landed in the late afternoon, I remember a platoon runner who had lost his gun when we first landed. He crawled up to the commanding officer and reported that he had lost his gun. The lieutenant said 'That's OK; there were plenty of casualties, just go find a new gun.' So I watched him as he crawled over a few feet to a motionless soldier; and when he turned him over, he saw that he was shot between the eyes and was lying in a pool of blood in the sand. We both turned white with terror at the sight; and at that point, we realized that this wasn't a training exercise. Being a corpsman meant that when a Marine was hit, I would have to go out among the shelling and treat his wounds. I also knew that the Japanese considered corpsman high priority targets, and aimed at us first, knowing that a platoon without a corpsman can be demoralized and less effective as a fighting unit. I was less afraid of being killed and more concerned about not 180 letting down my buddies. I had trained with these men for over a year, and they were almost like family. We landed on Iwo Jima late in the day, as our unit was being held in reserve. Upon landing, we were under heavy attack; but we were able to make our way inland, where we spent the night in foxholes. My first casualty was a platoon leader from a different unit, who was shot in the chest by a Japanese sniper. The wounds were severe, and I quickly applied a battle dressing and helped him be evacuated to a field hospital, where he later died. My second casualty was my platoon sergeant who was hit by an artillery shell that landed less than a yard from him. It threw him in the air and blew off his left leg and hand, and also part of his face. I quickly applied a tourniquet to both the arm and leg, and bandaged his other wounds to stop the bleeding. After a quick shot of morphine to prevent shock, the stretcher bearers got him evacuated to a field hospital. In the short time it took to treat and evacuate the sergeant, I lost contact with my platoon, so I ran up the hill to find them. As I climbed the hill, I came upon a Marine with a flame thrower and asked him if he knew the whereabouts of my platoon. Just then, a Japanese soldier jumped out at us, in typical bonsai attack fashion. The Marine had no choice but to open up his flame thrower, igniting the charging Japanese soldier. I was stunned as I watched this Japanese soldier collapse and burn to death. It was a repulsive and frightening scene. I didn't have much time to think about it; and as I moved up the hill, I heard a Marine further up moaning in pain. As I stopped to treat him, he had been hit in the stomach with machine gunfire; and his intestines were lying on the ground next to him. I knew from my training that it was important to keep the visceral organs wet, so I moistened a battle dressing, and gently guided them back to the abdomen. I had to leave the Marine and hoped that he would be evacuated, so I went back down the hill to treat additional casualties. It wasn't until late that afternoon that I went back to see if this wounded Marine had been evacuated yet, but he was still lying there. I was finally able to summon the stretcher bearers to get the Marine evacuated. After four days of fierce battle, we woke up that morning to see that the stars and stripes had been posted on Mount Suribachi. This famous flag raising moment was captured by the Associate Press photographer Joe Rosenthal, and ultimately became the most famous photograph of this or any other war. Despite taking Mount Suribachi, the American offensive began to lose momentum; and the casualties mounted. I watched another platoon move forward into an open field. They had no alternative but to attack, despite the enemy having pre-sighted their artillery and mortars on this open area. As the assault began, chaos erupted as explosions from mortars and artillery shook the ground. As the dust cleared, I saw a group of Marines laying there calling for a corpsman. I don't know why I wasn't afraid, but I just crawled out there and went about my work of treating the casualties, there were fourteen in all. Throughout the ordeal, I was strangely very relaxed. As soon as I could treat each casualty, I got them evacuated as quickly as possible. I heard the mortars and artillery rounds as they kept landing near me, but I don't remember too much machine gunfire. When I finally got back to safety, I realized what I had just done; and I began to shake. A sergeant looked at me as I stood there shaking, and he extended his arm and said 'Come on Doc;' and we spent the night in the relative safety of a foxhole. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much that night, as the events in that open field kept racing through my mind. My regiment was again involved in attacking a strategic hill when we were ambushed by machine gun fire and experienced heavy casualties. I crawled over to treat two wounded Marines; but upon reaching them, I realized that they were killed outright. While crawling back, I heard the unmistakable thud of a grenade land only a few feet from my head. The brunt of the blast blew upwards past my head, but I did feel a grenade fragment in my cheek below my right eye. Dazed, I laid there for several minutes until I could regain my composure. I felt the warm blood roll down my face, and I reached in my bag for a battle dressing and wrapped it around my head. I began to crawl down the hill when I heard the call for a corpsman. To my left, a wounded Marine was calling for help, but grenade explosions kept me from getting to him. I looked up the hill and could see the grenades being lobbed from the top of the hill. So I called down to a buddy to have him throw me a grenade. He threw me two grenades, but I didn't see that the ring pins were bent down to prevent accidentally pulling them out. When I had crawled to the top of this hill, I was only ten feet from the tunnel, where I could see a trap door. I pulled on the ring but the pin stayed in, leaving the ring still in my hand. I looked at the grenade, and then calmly pulled out my Kay-bar (knife) to straighten the pin. I crawled even closer to the trap door, and I could see an interlocking tunnel where the enemy soldier would jump out, throw a grenade, and scurry back to safety. I was so close to this Japanese soldier, I could have used my .45 caliber pistol to shoot him. But with the grenade in my hand, I decided to flip the spoon off the grenade and count to two, then I dropped it on the emerging soldier; 181