Wake Island

By Glen Frakes - Originally Published December 1982

A group of 200 junior high school students in Gilbert, Arizona, spent 10 months of research and worked more than 5,000 hours to build a diorama in honor of the Americans who defended Wake Island during World War II.

Forty-one years ago this month, during the dark days following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, a tiny, valiant band of United States Marines, supported by a handful of Naval personnel and civilian construction workers, wrote a proud page in American history on an isolated Pacific atoll called Wake Island.

In the spontaneous outpouring of national indignation, fury and outrage which swept the country immediately after December 7th, the magnificent example of valor and defiance set by the defenders of Wake in the face of overwhelming odds filled American hearts with resurgent pride, renewed hope and resolution.

A radio message from Wake, garbled in transmission, was received by a wireless radio operator in San Francisco. The message was sent in response to a request from headquarters U.S Pacific Fleet in Honolulu for a list of supplies most urgently needed by the Wake garrison. The message from Wake read, "Send us...more Japs..."

Accident or no, the reply from Wake made the front page of nearly every newspaper in the country and electrified the American public. Armed forces recruiting stations were swamped with a tide of volunteers, and Marine Corps enlistments increased tenfold virtually overnight.

It was the beginning of a new legend in the distinguished history of a proud Corps, a legend to rank alongside the stand of the Spartans at Thermopylae and the defense of the Alamo.

The Project

In Gilbert, Arizona, a group of 200 dedicated junior high school students and their teacher, Glen Frakes, spent ten months of research and more than 5,000 hours of labor on an ambitious project honoring the defenders of Wake.

The project, encased in a handfinished mahogany display cabinet of 64 cubic feet, is a miniature replica of a portion of Wake Island's defense perimeter reproduced in exacting thoroughness and authenticity. Painstaking attention was given to the smallest detail.

The miniature replica, called a diorama, is in 1/32 scale, meaning that a six-fool Marine is represented by a figure 2¼" tall. Each individual figure is constructed from a dozen 01 more tiny pieces, hand-shaped and painted in authentic uniform colors.

More than 530 of the finest quality miniature figures, imported from England, France, Germany, Italy and Japan, were used to complete the diorama. All of the figures are correctly equipped with dishpan helmets, old style 16" bayonets, Springfield rifles and Browning water-cooled machine guns.

The diorama terrain covers several hundred scale yards of beach, and includes slit trenches, gun emplacements, bunker command post and an aircraft revetment, complete with battledamaged Wildcat fighters. FMVC Japanese landing craft are positioned to recreate the landing of Japanese troops. The Pacific Ocean, complete with pounding surf, was duplicated by means of a special casting resin so real that spectators are tempted to test its "wetness" with their fingers.

The Island

Wake is a remote Pacific coral atoll surrounded entirely by reefs and located nearly 2,000 nautical miles west of Pearl Harbor. The island is less than four square miles in area, roughly wishbone-shaped, with an average topographical height only 11 feet above sea level. There are actually three islands in the atoll, Wake being the largest, with Peale Island and Wilkes Island situated at the northern and western ends of the wishbone, separated from the main island by narrow channels.

Due to the steadily deteriorating state of relations between the United States and Japan in the fall of 1940, the Navy Department, appreciating the importance of Wake as a strategic forward observation post and communications link for our Pacific fleet, proceeded with plans to develop the island as a longrange reconnaissance base.

In January 1941, a Naval Air Station was established with facilities on Peale Island and a causeway linking the new base to Wake, where a small airstrip was under construction. It became operational just prior to the outbreak of hostilities on December 7th. There was no radar of any type on Wake, and defensive preparations, begun only in November, ranged from primitive to non-existent.

Only a few of the five-inch coastal batteries and three-inch anti-aircraft guns planned for Wake's defense were fully emplaced and ready for service. Most of those available lacked proper fire control equipment and height finders. The existing defenses were manned by a single, desperately under-strength battalion of less than 400 Marines.

On the 29th of November, virtually the eve of war, the garrison's strength was bolstered by the arrival of Marine Fighter Squadron VMF-211 with 49 aviation maintenance personnel. Twelve F4F Wildcat fighters, transported to Wake by the carrier Enterprise, landed on December 4th, bringing the Marine defense force to a total of 449 officers and men.

The newly-assigned island commander was a naval officer and pilot of 22 years' experience, Commander Winfield Scott Cunningham (Annapolis, 1919). Serving under Cunningham were Major James P.S. Devereux, commanding the 1st Marine Defense Battalion, and Major Paul A. Putnam, Commanding Officer of VMF-211. In addition to the Marines and 68 Naval personnel, more than 1,200 Civilian Construction workers, hired to complete island defenses, were present on Wake at the time of the Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor on December 7th.

Bombs were still falling in Hawaii when word of the raid was received by wireless on Wake. Because the atoll lies west of the International Date Line, it was December 8th, Wake Island time.

Within hours, Wake was attacked suddenly and ferociously from the air by a large flight of Japanese bombers. Because of Wake's lack of radar and the constant roar of the surf which tends to obscure the sound of approaching aircraft, the Japanese raiders struck the island with almost total surprise.

Eight of VMF-211's Wildcats were destroyed on the ground. Only the four planes aloft on combat air patrol managed to avoid destruction. The civilian hospital and camp were bombed and strafed, and the Pan American Hotel reduced to rubble. (Pan American Airways had operated a refueling station on Wake since 1935 to service their China Clipper.)

Without the loss of a single aircraft, the Japanese had devastated Wake's vital surface installations and repair facilities, reduced the garrison's fighter protection by 2/3 and inflicted over 100 casualties.

The Battle

Thus was established the pattern of life-and death-on Wake Island during the 16-day battle for the atoll. In the weeks that followed, severe, daily bombing raids forced the beleaguered garrison underground, robbing them of sleep, sapping their strength and preying on their nerves.

Patience thinned and tempers grew short as the hard-pressed defenders, pinned down on their island like so many live targets staked out on a coral bull's-eye, searched the eastern horizon between each raid for sign of a relief force, for anyone, coming to their rescue.

And when no help came, they fought on. Wake's anti-aircraft crews found their range and with experience gained in the first raids, they served notice to the Japanese that the price of Wake's conquest would be high.

In flights of no more than two or three aircraft, the gallant pilots of Wake's tiny air force rose time after time to challenge the enemy in the sky.

Decimated at the outset of the unequal struggle, the intrepid heroes of VMF-211 managed, nevertheless, to give a good account of themselves, downing nearly a score of Japanese planes and sinking or damaging several warships.

During this phase of the battle, VMF-211's valiant maintenance crews, led by Lieutenant John Kinney and Technical Sergeant William Hamilton, worked around the clock, stripping salvageable parts from the hulks of wrecked aircraft.

Pushing themselves to the point of exhaustion and considerably beyond, Kinney and Hamilton performed incredible feats of improvisation in repairing and replacing battle-damaged parts to keep the squadron's surviving Wildcats flying.

In the pre-dawn hours of December 11th, a Japanese invasion fleet was sighted off Wake's southern shore. Believing that island defenses had been reduced to rubble by nearly a week of aerial bombardment, Rear Admiral Sadamichi Kajioke moved his warship in for the kill. The cruiser Yubari, together with several destroyers, commenced a methodical shelling of the atoll from Peacock Point, Wake's southern most extremity, to Battery "L" at the western end of Wilkes, in preparation for amphibious landing.

Wake's gun crews, under orders from Major Devercux, refrained from answering the enemy's fire until several warship, lured by the lack of any resistance, closed to within 6,000 yards of the island, inch batteries opened fire with a vengeance, ranking the Yuburi with several well-placed salvos and setting the cruiser afire.

One destroyer suffered a direct hit amidships and split in half, sinking in less than a minute. Eight other warship and invasion transports were hit and sustained serious damage in the course ot this furious exchange of fire.

With his flagship blazing and his bridge a shambles after a direct hit, Kajioka broke off the duel with the Wake's shore batteries and withdrew the battered Yuburi at reduced speed. Stunned and demoralized, with several vessels training oil and on fire.

At dawn, VMF-211's pilots took to the air to add to the score. Captain Henry T. Elrod, the squadrons' executive officer, led an attack on yet another Japanese destroyer, sinking it 30 miles southwest of the atoll. Captain Elrod pressed home his attack with such unreleting fury in this encounter that his fellow Marines admiringly dubbed him "Hammerin' Hank."

This was victory, sudden and exhilarating, and the Marines savored it with grim satisfaction. The Japanese would be back, that was certain, but regardless of the outcome of future engagements, the haggard defenders of Wake Island had just won the first America victory over the Japanese Navy in World War II.

Japanese efforts to neutralized Wake's defenses were renewed immediately. Air raids increased both in frequency and duration. One by one the air defenses and coastal batteries were knocked out. Those that survived continued to take their toll of the attacking Japanese bombers. As one Marine put it. "If they want this island, they gotta pay for it."

Undaunted by odds of 30 to 1 against them, Major Putnam and his pilots continued to attack the bombers, breaking up their formations and seeking to engage the enemy fighters at every opportunity. To a man, they fought with reckless abandon and unparalleled courage until the last bullet-riddled Wildcat plunged into the sea or limped back to Wake too badly damaged to fly again.

During the last days of Wake's defense, a radio message was received by Commander Cunningham, asking him to list supplies that were most urgently needed by the garrison. The reply from Wake which was received in San Francisco was badly garbled in transmission and began "Send us...(a brief period of unintelligible gibberish and words...) more Japs."

Someone in a safe Stateside billet put the phrase "Send Us...More Japs" together and within 24 hours, the contrived message had been printed in nearly every newspaper in the country. Although the last tiling the Marines of Wake Island needed was more enemy, the effectiveness of this propaganda was eventually acknowledged by the Japanese.

In the early morning hours of December 23, a second Japanese invasion fleet, considerably larger than the initial force which the Marines had turned back on December 11, began landing troops on the beaches between Peacock Point and Wilkes Island. The island's five-inch batteries had, by that time, been knocked out of commission, leaving the garrison with only small arms and machine guns to turn back any assault.

For several hours the most desperate fighting raged on the landing grounds. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Marine defenders disputed the enemy advance yard by yard, resisting with all the tenacity and esprit de corps for which they are renowned.

Major Putnam, Captain Elrod and the survivors of VMF-211, by then serving as infantry, were among the first of Wake's defenders to 7meet the invaders at the water's edge. A handful of sailors and civilian volunteers also fought gallantly alongside the Marines.

Wave upon wave of Japanese infantry swarmed about their position, only to be cut down with bayonet and rifle butt as the hard-pressed but still unconquered beach defense force grudgingly yielded ground. Giving no quarter and asking none, the Marines fell back slowly on one of the few three-inch gun emplacements still in action.

Only nine men, including Major Putnam, survived the fighting in this sector, and all but one, Captain Frank C. Tharin, were seriously wounded. Capt "Hammerin' Hank" Elrod was not one of the survivors. He had been killed by a burst of machine gun fire in the last hour of fighting after single-handedly annihilating a wave of more than a dozen Japanese infantry attacking his position. For his heroic conduct and valor throughout the course of the battle for Wake Island, Captain Elrod was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.

By mid-morning, Japanese aircraft were bombing and strafing the island at will, communications were out and Major Devereux, at his command post in a converted magazine bunker, had lost contact with most of his units and had no way of knowing how the fighting was going outside his own immediate area.

An outpost reported a Japanese flag raised over Wilkes Island. The airstrip and the entire western end of Wake were believed to be overrun. Japanese destroyers continued to shell Peacock Point in the vicinity of Battery "A" where the surviving Marines, cut off with their backs to the sea, prepared for a last stand.

Devereux managed to make contact with Commander Cunningham, advising him of the situation as accurately as was possible under the circumstances. The two men talked for several minutes, exploring every possibility, desperately searching for alternatives. There were none.

Finally, convinced of the hopelessness of their position and wishing to prevent any further needless loss of lives, Cunningham made the decision to surrender the island. The defense of Wake passed into history.

In Honolulu, headquarters, United States Pacific Fleet, radio operators waited in vain for further word from Wake Island. The last message received, sent by Cunningham as the first Japanese landings were taking place, read, "Enemy on island, issue in doubt."

A relief force consisting of the aircraft carrier Saratoga, escort vessels and Marine reinforcements aboard the transport ship Tangier, was recalled to port, and put about at 0800 hours on December 23, having reached a point only 400 miles from Wake.

The defenders of Wake, having suffered a total of 172 casualties in the course of the battle, spent the next 44 months as prisoners of war in a Japanese internment camp near Shanghai, China.

But the Japanese had paid a high price for Wake. The Marines had seen to that. In the 16 days between Pearl Harbor and the island's surrender, the defenders had sunk or damaged 11 Japanese warships and shot down 21 aircraft, badly damaging 51 others. The Japanese admitted to over 1,100 casualties, but this is believed to be far below the actual number of killed and wounded. Other estimates of Japanese casualties run as high as 6,700. The exact number may never be known.

Upon Japan's surrender in September 1945, the surviving heroes returned home to a victorious and grateful nation.

The Diorama

The student miniaturists of Gilbert, Arizona, focused their efforts on recreating that sector of Wake's southern shore-line which was defended by the Marine detachment led by Major Putnam and Captain Elrod. Together with their instructor, the students have attempted to capture the dramatic action of the moment when troops of the Imperial Japanese Special Naval Landing Force stormed ashore to clash with the defiant Marines in furious hand-to-hand combat.

A pair of three-inch gun emplacements frame the central action in the scene as the Marines desperately battle to repulse waves of attacking Japanese. A wrecked Wake Island Wildcat, concealed under camouflage netting, is positioned at the far left of the diorama. To the extreme right is a covered magazine bunker much like the one used by Major Devereux as his final command post.

In the background, Japanese landing barges plow through the surf to land additional troops. The entire scene is surrounded on three sides by a panoramic oil painting of the Pacific, complete with attacking Japanese aircraft and warships under fire from a solitary three-inch anti-boat gun, the only one on Wake still in operation.

Also depicted in the diorama are a dozen Marines of Wake's mobile reserve under the command of Second Lieutenant Arthur Poindexter, rushing to reinforce their embattled comrades.

Completely disregarding his own safety, Lieutenant Poindexter rushed across the beach and waded into the surf throwing hand grenades into the Japanese landing barges. Miraculously, he survived.

In total, the diorama required more than 5,000 hours of labor to produce.

Displayed in October at MCRD San Diego during the 41st reunion of the Wake Island Defenders, the diorama is scheduled to go on exhibit at the Marine Corps Museum in Washington, D.C.