D. Clarke Evans Photographer

Fred Harvey

Private First Class, USMC
1943–1946

Pvt. Fred Harvey
Camp Pendleton, CA, 1942

I said, ‘Dr. Anderson, what was that room I was in?’ He said, ‘There’s no hope for these guys. We call it God’s Waiting Room. They are in God’s hands now, because we can’t do anything more for them. It’s up to God whether you live or die.’ He had tears in his eyes.

I was born in 1923 in Memphis, Texas which is east of Amarillo about 90 miles. My mom was a Comanche Indian; you did not mess with her. My sister lives over in Austin. She and I are the last two of nine kids.

I joined the Marine Corps in 1942. I found a home in the Corps. My mom said, ‘Sonny, (that’s my nickname) there’s four things; you listen good and mind me. When this war is over you come home to us. You don’t come home no drunkard and you don’t come home no coward. And you come home with no tattoos.’

When I got to San Diego, I had a pair of dress shoes and they had holes in the soles of them. Each morning I put three playing cards in each shoe. One night I went to bed, woke up and my shoes had been half-soled with thick leather. My D.I. had come in and gotten my shoes and had them half soles put on.

In early 1943, I went to demolition school at Camp Elliot, then to New Caledonia, Bougainville and finally back to Camp Pendleton where the 5th Marine Division was formed. We trained there and at Camp Tarawa in Hawaii.

I landed on Iwo Jima on February 19th at something like 9:20. There was a lot of chaos. I was with the 26th Marines on Red Beach. We were real close to the foot of Suribachi. We were laying there; mortar shells came in like rain.

On the ninth night, we were in a big shell hole. I heard a thump and I knew what was coming—a grenade. I was able to shovel it out. I heard the thump again and knew I was in real trouble because that Jap was going to hold it for a couple of seconds before throwing it. Sure enough, he held it. It came again and I tried to catch it, but I bobbled it. I got a few pieces of shrapnel in my arms. My ears were ringing and here came another one. It landed right beside me. I just raised my hip and sat on it. It did a number on me. I passed out. Next thing I know, I was on the beach and there was a Corpsman working over me.

I was put on a Higgins boat and carried to the USS Ozark. I was lying on the deck, it was raining, and the Doc came by and looked at me and said, ‘Get this one in there right now.’ I said, ‘Can I see the flag one more time?’ The Doc said no, but the ship swung around and I could see the flag on Suribachi. It was cloudy, but there were shafts of sunlight coming through and I could just barely make out the flag.

Dr. Anderson operated on me immediately. I woke up and it was real dark in the room. I was still in pain. I was in a cast that covered most of my body. It was a big room; there must have been a hundred cots in there. I hollered for Dr. Anderson. He comes by and says, ‘Harvey, I’ve been looking for you for two days. I figured you’d died and they planted you at sea.’ He came back in and he had four Corpsmen with him. They picked me up and put me on a stretcher. I said, ‘Dr. Anderson, what is this place?’ He said, ‘There’s no hope for these guys. We call it God’s Waiting Room. They are in God’s hands now, because we can’t do anything more for them.’ He had tears in his eyes. I said, ‘You mean I was in God’s hands too?’ I ended up in a hospital in Hawaii for 4 1/2 months.

Got out December of 1945. I ended up going to a junior college and played football. I taught coaching for 45 years. Decided I wanted to travel more and enrolled in the Department of Defense schools. I coached in Korea, Okinawa, Japan, and Turkey. Coached one year pro ball in Italy. I wrote a book that sums up my life’s experiences called Hell Yes, I’d Do it All Again. {03-24-2017 • Kerrville, TX}