RINGSIDE SEAT
Oakland man recalls horror, watching flagraising through binoculars at Iwo Jima
BY FRANK BOWDEN

Hub Taylor

The water was not particularly cold. There were no sharks around him, but neither was there land, ships or people in sight. Hub Taylor was alone and more frightened than he had been during his entire war experience.

Taylor's ship had been sunk in a typhoon off the coast of Okinawa in September 1945, two weeks after the war ended. About mid-morning of the next day, he floated up to a coral reef. With no shoes or shirt, the razor sharp edges lacerated his body, as he climbed to the top of the reef, where he sat bleeding, until he spied a cave. It was empty.

Hungry, thirsty and exhausted, he lay down on the rock floor and went to sleep. Rescuers found him several hours later. Hub was a survivor.

Herbert Taylor was called to duty in

the U.S. Navy in 1943 and assigned to a gunship, a converted destroyer. The craft was changed from a multi-use vessel to a single purpose instrument of war, to protect soldiers and marines in the many island landings in the Pacific. Loaded with 30 and 50 caliber machine guns, 40 millimeter cannons and anti-aircraft weapons of every sort, it was equivalent to a flotilla.

No names were used. Numbers were the only nomenclature used for Taylor's ship. Number 728. The warship saw lots of action on the island hopping campaign to drive the nips back toward Tokyo. The Allied Forces were now the aggressor, taking important landing strips and launching areas from the enemy and cutting off supply lines to other occupied atolls. Among those taken were Peleliu, Tarawa and Saipan.

However, the most important and traumatic battle was yet to come. Iwo Jima. Much has been written about Iwo Jima. The facts are not in dispute. Seven thousand marines and sailors were killed and almost 21,000 Japanese. Its importance is not in question. Between March 1945, when the island was taken, until the end of the war, 2,252 B-29s and 24,761 crew members were saved by emergency landings on the airstrips at Iwo Jima (Sulphur Island).

Herbert never shared much of his military experience with his family. He shared some of his memories with us, from his ringside seat, some 200 yards off the shore of this horrific historical battle. To have plenty of binoculars on board was a naval necessity, so what could not be seen with the naked eye, could be brought to focus with the spyglass.

Although the navy had rained down artillery and bombs for several days, the enemy in their labyrinth of caves and underground bunkers were virtually unscathed. When the first two divisions of marines hit the beach, they were nearly all killed. It was hard to witness. The bodies of the dead comrades floated in the water among the ships, cut up by the propellers. Hub could not eat because he was so sickened by the carnage. Water was all he consumed for several days. But on the fourth day, he watched, as a platoon of men scaled the steep, loose rock and volcanic gravel of Mt. Suribachi with the intent to plant a flag. They were able to find a vent pipe in one of the caves and attached the flag to it. At about 10:30 a.m., Feb. 23, 1945, the Stars and Stripes caught the wind and unfurled, proudly, over the volcano, among thunderous applause from the marines and sailors. The photographer was Staff Sgt. Louis Lowery of Leatherneck Magazine. The Japs sailed a grenade in his direction. He had to tumble down a hill to avoid it, breaking his camera. A more famous picture was staged later in the day. Only one of the original flag raisers was in the second picture

The armada remained at this site for four more weeks, before being assigned to the invasion of Okinawa. The ironic mission of Taylor's ship was to protect the battleship Texas. Shortly after arrival, two kamikaze pilots flew a beeline toward the battlewagon. The crew of the gunship shot down one, but the other got through, blowing a big hole in the bow of the Texas, above the water-line. It was repaired in a few days and back in action.

A few weeks later, the Japanese surrendered and the men felt that it would not be long now, until they were on their way home. Then the typhoon hit. The 728 was found floating belly-up, rolled back over and repaired. It took several months. Taylor was discharged in April 1946.

Hub Taylor lives in the Oakland community. He has out-lived much of his family, but he is on dry ground and not alone, surrounded by the love of his grandson and scores of friends.

Frank Bowden is commander of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars Post.