The Stitch

Tianan
August 10, 1944

Dear Mrs. Wood,

The Navy Department has notified you of the death of your son Phil.

Mrs. Wood, I know that there isn’t anything that I can say that will relieve the sorrow you have experienced, but I do want to tell you how Phil so gallantly met his death.

It was July the Fourth, on Saipan, and Company “A” was preparing to move forward again by annihilating the enemy. Phil was firing his mortars in preparation. Suddenly a group of wounded native civilians (Chamorras) came out of some caves forward of our lines. As always, Phil and Sgt. Ervin, his Section Sgt., asked if they could take a patrol forward and help the natives back to our lines. He soon returned with many wounded women and children. There were many more in the caves, which the Jap soldiers wouldn’t let surrender. Phil returned to the caves with his patrol.

When Phil was about 30 yards away, the Japs opened fire. He was hit. Sgt. Ervin and a Corpsman ran over to him, and they were hit. First Sgt. [Arnold R.] Richardson tried to cover them with fire, and he was hit. All but two members of the patrol were casualties. Five died almost instantly. Phil, always first in combat, first in leadership, was also the first to die. Sgt. Ervin died alongside of him, as did First Sgt. Richardson.

Before he died, Mrs. Wood, he said, “Say hello to my mother and Aunt for me.” I do wish that you would convey his last words to his Aunt.

I had been Phil’s Company Commander for over a year and a half, and during that time had never seen an officer that was better liked by both men and officers. Phil was a natural leader whose men would follow anywhere. His death has shocked us all. We will never forget Phil, Mrs. Wood. His spirit will always remain with Company “A.”

I recommended Phil for the Silver Star. I know an award does not mean the same to you, but Mrs. Wood, it is the same award Phil would have had pinned on him if he had lived. I hope you will soon receive this award on his behalf.

I visited Phil’s grave several times. He is buried in the Fourth Marine Cemetery on Saipan. Next to him lie his buddies, Sgt. Ervin, First Sgt. Richardson, and P.F.C. [Lawrence E.] Knight. He was buried with full military honors and the rites of his church.

Mrs. Wood, if there is anything I can do for you, or additional information that I can give you, please feel free to write to me at any time. I hope to write to you again, and someday be able to sit down and tell you many of the heroic tales of Phil.

Respectfully yours,

Irving Schechter
Captain, U.S.M.C.R.

***

Marine Corps Hospital
July 26, 1944

Dear Mrs. Wood,

I’ve hesitated to write to you, knowing full well how utterly inadequate anything I would say to you would be, and not knowing what I will say that would be of any good to you at this unspeakable time of Phil’s death. But I will say this, that at this moment I am on my way back to the States, and have hopes of getting shore leave, during which time I should like to stop in and see you and your daughter if it be at all possible. He spoke to me often of both of you. Do you expect to be in New York around the end of August or September? If not, where shall I look for you?

I was another Platoon leader in the same Battalion with Phil. The last time we spoke together, like everyone else he was dog-tired, just going on nervous energy and because you had to – there was no one else – his face thickly covered with the red volcanic ash from the island. We were digging in for the night. Being close by he had come over to say hello. He sat down beside me where I was cleaning my carbine. Occasional shells were dropping on the ridge, but we’d long since passed the stage of worrying about them much, despite their effectiveness. We talked briefly about how things were going – not too well; gaining steadily, but paying heavily. I remember our asking each other for a slug from his canteen, and both of us were “all out.” Then a short argument about which stood up better, Luckies or Camels, against moisture and banging about, each sticking up for his own brand, which we smoked, being unable to drink. (Speaking of drinking, we had our last beers together in Pearl Harbor before leaving for good, and I remember thinking then as we clinked bottles that it might well be the last time one or both of us held a bottle.) Some days later, I gather from men who were there – I had been hit and evacuated by then – a patrol he was with ran into some hot stuff in a ravine, and he was hit by a machine gun bullet. Harry Reynolds, another officer in Phil’s Company, tells me that when he got back to Phil a short while after he had been hit with some help, he was dead…. Please forgive me if I have been presumptuous or unfeeling in thinking that however they may be to take, you would want at least some of the details.

Two years ago I met Phil at O.C.S. in Quantico, which we left together for New River and afterwards California, the Marshalls (Namur) and Saipan. During that time we had become as brothers. Ruth, my wife, was very fond of him too. He saw us through the earliest months of our marriage in New River, and later in California. Perhaps you remember his going to our wedding a year ago December in New Jersey.

He was loved and respected by every officer in the Battalion who knew him, and that includes almost everyone, for the majority of us had been together in that outfit for a long time. The “Legal Eagle” we called him, from the day he was made recorder for courts-martial back in New River. I used to kid him about his dusty-colored moustache, but it did make him all the more sapient.

Crossing to Saipan we slept under the stars on deck in the same boat, and used to talk long into the night about everything from God to women’s clothes. More often than not, his judiciary mind settled the questions that arose better than mine, which tended to be overenthusiastic or over-critical. In consequence we generally overslept and missed breakfast each morning…. But it is as bitter, if not more so, as it is sweet thinking on these things. And I am probably boring you, so I shall stop.

But if there is anything, anything at all that I can do for you, Mrs. Wood, please be sure to let me know. The address here is that of my wife – the surest way of reaching me, since I don’t yet know where I’ll be stationed.

Sincerely,
Frank Shattuck
1st Lt., U.S.M.C.R.

***

Rest Base in the Pacific
October 7, 1944

Dear Mrs. Wood

I believe that I have some understanding of what the death of Phil has meant to you and his sister. For I have known Phil almost since the day we entered the Marine Corps in July, 1942, and this loss I feel more than any other of the War. Living with Phil was a pleasure, for he wore better and better the longer you knew him. And there’s no one I know who achieved more enjoyment from life or who made such and art of living. He always found enjoyment in what he was doing, and also in the people with whom he was, and similarly we found the same pleasure in being with him.

Naturally, during these days where there are so comparatively few of us left in the officers’ area, our hearts yearn most strongly for the days and the laughter of the past. And I visualize Phil in so many different instances – after we returned from the Marshalls, Phil, Joe Swayer, Chuck Bechtol and others used to be constant sitters at a nightly poker game which always lasted until the master switch was pulled at 11:30. And Phil always sat in his easy chair, which he had surreptitiously acquired, clad in his blue and white Jap kimono brought back from Namur, and which he considered his dressing gown.

Or back at New River, when we all lived in huts with composition walls. And Phil living with Ed Keyes and Ted Johnson would vie with Joe Swayer and myself to see who could maintain the most unkempt hut. It normally was a toss-up, especially on the day we all departed for the west coast. I hope you have the picture taken of Phil, Ted Johnson, Harry Reynolds, and myself aboard ship en route to Namur. That period of singing, and sleeping on deck under the stars was exhilarating and lasting. And one liberty that Phil and Joe and I had together in Honolulu. We spent the day pleasantly wandering about, betting vociferously on a baseball game we chanced upon between two youthful girl’s teams, and eventually getting back to the dock after hours and too late to get a boat back to our ship. Not at all nonplussed, we eventually attracted attention by lighting numerous matches, and boarded a harbor patrol craft. The operators enjoyed the occasion, and so for an hour and a half the three of us, and the two operators, took an extensive tour of the harbor amidst much laughter.

These are just a very few of the many mental pictures that come back often and vividly. For Phil was such a loveable person. We always called him “Eagle,” shortened from “Legal Eagle,” which title he gained after his successful defense of a sergeant against the unjust attacks of a bigoted Colonel back at Camp Pendleton [Phil Wood mentions this case as occurring at New River, NC, February 1943 – ed.]. Harry Reynolds always used to say – “Isn’t the eagle marvelous in the role he portrays?” Which is perhaps not easy to explain. But by the “role” we always meant his lovability, his air of British aristocracy, his lack of physical coordination, and his inherent good nature, all wrapped up together.

On board ship, most of us slept on deck where it was cooler, and Harry Reynolds, Capt. Schechter, Gene Mundy and I had a landing craft directly above the one the Eagle slept in with Joe Swayer and Frank Shattuck. As we descended each morning, we would see the late-sleeping Eagle all curled up and sound asleep. And Harry inevitably said, “Isn’t the Eagle marvelous in the role he portrays?” – which he certainly was!

Just as we who lived with him as officers loved him, so also were his men devoted to him. It was no hero-worship due to athletic prowess, etc. such as sometimes occurs in the men-officer relationship. Rather it was a much deeper and the natural response of a group of intelligent men to a leader in whom they believed and to whom they were devoted as much as he was to them. And it was the same way with his Sgt. Ervin, about whom Phil doubtless wrote. Ervin was pretty much an individualist, not given to affection, and on first impression, not a top notch NCO. But the mutual admiration and respect which grew between the two was obvious, and they were a strongly attached pair who worked together as well as any and better than most. It was Sgt. Ervin who, when Phil lay fatally wounded in an exposed position, called out “Don’t worry, Phil, I’m coming for you!” And Ervin went down to be killed at Phil’s side by the same Jap gun.

There is so much more I should like to tell you both when I ever get to see you once we return. But I want you to know that no finer or truer gentleman have I ever known than Phil. He had our admiration and respect, and I had a feeling of kinship and attachment for him that goes far deeper than words.

My very deepest sympathy to you,
Lt. Fred A. Stott

***

THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY
WASHINGTON

The President of the United States takes pride in presenting the BRONZE STAR MEDAL posthumously to

FIRST LIEUTENANT PHILIP E. WOOD, JR.,
UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS RESERVE

for service as set forth in the following:

CITATION:

“For heroic service while attached to the Twenty-Fourth Marines, Fourth Marine Division, in action against the enemy Japanese forces at Saipan, Marianas Islands, on 5 July, 1944. Volunteering to lead a patrol forward of our front lines to a cave believed to be holding Japanese soldiers and civilians, First Lieutenant Wood boldly advanced and, upon reaching the vicinity of the cave, learned that friendly natives were being held prisoner by a group of enemy soldiers. Fully aware of the danger involved in attempting a rescue, he unhesitatingly pressed forward, but was mortally wounded while performing his perilous mission. First Lieutenant Wood’s exceptional fortitude, his valiant fighting spirit and cool courage in the face of extreme danger were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service. He gallantly gave his life for his country.”

For the President
[signed]
James Forrestal
Secretary of the Navy.