At 9:30 in the evening on October 24, 1942, Sergeant Ralph Briggs picked up a field telephone on a ridge 3,000 yards south of Henderson Field and called the command post of the first battalion 7th Marine Regiment. The voice on the other end belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Lewis B.

 Puller, the battalion commander known throughout the core as Chesty Puller. Briggs and 46 other Marines had been sent forward as an observation post to warn of Japanese troop movements. They had been sitting in the darkness for hours, listening, watching, waiting for any sign of the expected Japanese attack. The night was pitch black. Heavy clouds covered any moonlight.

 Rain fell intermittently, soaking through their uniforms and making the jungle floor slick with mud. The humidity was suffocating, even at night. Every sound seemed amplified in the darkness. the rustle of leaves, the calls of nightbirds, the distant rumble of artillery. Then Briggs heard something else.

 Voices, Japanese voices, lots of them. Movement through the jungle, the sound of thousands of men advancing. What Briggs reported would determine whether the Marines holding Henderson Field would survive the night. “Conel, there’s about 3,000 japs between you and me,” Puller asked if he was certain. “Positive! They’ve been all around us, singing and smoking cigarettes, heading your way.

 That warning gave Puller’s battalion maybe 30 minutes before 3,000 Japanese soldiers from the Sendai Division would hit the southern defensive line. 30 minutes to prepare for an attack that could break through to Henderson Field. 30 minutes to check weapons, redistribute ammunition, call for artillery support, and steal themselves for what was coming.

 The Americans had 11,000 marines and recently arrived army troops holding a defensive perimeter around Henderson Field. The Japanese had 20,000 soldiers on Guadal Canal. And their commander, Lieutenant General Harukichi Hayakutake, had spent two weeks positioning his forces for what he believed would be the decisive battle of the Pacific War.

 At the southern edge of the American defensive line, directly in the path of the Japanese assault, sat two sections of heavy machine guns commanded by a 26-year-old sergeant named John Baselone. Baselone had been on Guadal Canal since September 18th, 1942 when the seventh marine regiment landed on the island.

 He was from Raritan, New Jersey, the son of an Italian immigrant tor. His father Salvatore Bascelone had immigrated from Klesenita in southern Italy in 1903 and settled in Raritan where he worked as a tailor. His mother Dora Bena was born in the United States but her parents had also come from the same region of Italy.

 Jon was one of 10 children in the family. He grew up in a workingclass neighborhood where everyone knew everyone else. He attended St. Bernard Parochial School but dropped out after finishing 8th grade at age 15. He worked as a golf caddy at the local country club before deciding to join the military.

 In July 1934 at age 17, he enlisted in the United States Army. He was assigned to the 16th Infantry at Fort J, then transferred to the 31st Infantry Regiment. He completed his three-year enlistment serving in the Philippines stationed at Manila. It was there he became a champion boxer in the regimental competitions. His fellow soldiers started calling him Manila John, a nickname that stuck with him for the rest of his life.

 After his discharge in 1937, Baselone returned to the United States and worked as a truck driver in Ryerstown, Maryland. The work was steady but unsatisfying. He missed military life. He missed the camaraderie, the sense of purpose, the structure. By 1940, he decided to return to service. He believed he could get back to the Philippines faster by joining the Marine Corps rather than reinlisting in the Army.

 So on July 11th, 1940, he enlisted in the Marines at Baltimore. He went through boot camp at Marine Corps recruit depot Paris Island, then additional training at Quantico and New River. The Marines recognized his previous military experience and his expertise with weapons. They made him an instructor, but Basilone wanted to be with a combat unit.

 He was assigned to de company, first battalion, seventh marines as a machine gun section leader. His army training made him one of the most knowledgeable machine gunners in the battalion. The M1917, a oneheavy machine gun, was a complex weapon that required proper handling, maintenance, and tactical employment. Baselone knew it intimately.

 His job was simple. hold the line. But the problem Baselon faced that night was not simple. The Japanese had numbers. They had momentum. And they had a plan that assumed the Marines would break under pressure. The Sendai Division was considered one of the best infantry formations in the Japanese army. Most of its soldiers came from Miyagi Prefecture on Honshu.

 They had trained in Manuria and fought in Java. They were experienced, disciplined, and they believed Henderson Field would fall before dawn. The Marines on Guadal Canal were exhausted. They had been fighting since August 7th, when the First Marine Division landed and captured the partially completed Japanese airfield. The invasion had been hastily organized.

The Marines had expected 6 months of training before being committed to combat. Instead, Admiral Ernest J. King, commander-in-chief of the United States fleet, had accelerated the timeline. Radio intelligence had warned that the Japanese were building an air base on Guadal Canal. If completed, that air base would threaten Allied supply lines to Australia and New Zealand.

 King convinced Army Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall to authorize Operation Watchtower. The first marine division under Major General Alexander Vandergrift would seize Guadal Canal. The division was filled with new recruits, mostly teenagers who had enlisted after Pearl Harbor. They had minimal training and no combat experience, but they were what King had available, so they went.

 The initial landing on August 7th was relatively unopposed. The Marines came ashore expecting heavy resistance and found instead that most Japanese defenders had fled into the jungle. By nightfall on August 8th, the Marines had secured the unfinished airfield and the surrounding area. They completed the runway using captured Japanese construction equipment and named it Henderson Field after Major Loftton Henderson, a Marine aviator killed at Midway.

 For two and a half months, the Japanese had tried to retake that airfield. They had sent reinforcements at night aboard destroyers and cruisers, a supply method the Marines called the Tokyo Express. The ships would race down the slot the channel between the Solomon Islands, unload troops and supplies on Guadal Canal’s beaches, and race back before American aircraft could attack at dawn.

The method was effective, but limited. The Tokyo Express could deliver troops and light equipment, but not the heavy artillery, vehicles, and bulk supplies needed for a major offensive. Japanese soldiers arrived on Guadal Canal with their rifles and basic gear. Everything else had to be carried by hand through the jungle.

 Despite these limitations, the Japanese continued reinforcing. In August, Colonel Kona Ichiki landed with about 900 men of the 28th Infantry Regiment. They attacked on August 21 at Alligator Creek and were annihilated by Marine Firepower. Only a few dozen survived. In September, Major General Kiyotake Kawaguchi landed with about 6,000 men.

 They attacked on September 12 and 13 at a location the Marines later named Edson’s Ridge. The battle lasted 2 days. The Japanese were repulsed with heavy casualties. By mid-occtober, the Japanese had learned from these failures and were preparing a much larger offensive. By mid-occtober, the Japanese had built up enough strength for a major offensive.

 General Hiyakutake had brought his 17th Army headquarters forward from Rabal. He had positioned heavy artillery, including 100 mm cannon and 150 mm howitzers. The artillery had been disassembled, loaded onto destroyers, transported down the slot, unloaded on the beaches, and then carried piece by piece through the jungle to firing positions.

 It was an enormous logistical effort that took weeks. The Japanese also brought tanks. On October 14th, two Japanese battleships, Congo and Haruna, bombarded Henderson Field with 14in shells. They fired nearly 1,000 rounds in a bombardment that lasted 90 minutes. It was the most intense bombardment American forces had ever experienced.

Marines huddled in foxholes and bunkers while the shells destroyed aircraft, buildings, and fuel stores. The airfield was temporarily knocked out of action. Japanese transport ships took advantage of the reduced air threat and landed more than 4,000 troops and heavy equipment, including 150 mm howitzers. On October 22nd, Hayakutake told his officers, “The time of the decisive battle between Japan and the United States has come.

” He was so confident of victory that he ordered his staff to begin preparations for accepting the American surrender on Henderson Field. He wanted the ceremony to be elaborate, something that would impress the entire Japanese army. In Tokyo, military leaders were following the battle closely. They believed Guadal Canal would be the decisive engagement of the Pacific War.

 If Japan could retake Henderson Field and drive the Americans off the island, it would demonstrate that the United States lacked the will to sustain a long Pacific campaign. The Japanese high command believed American morale was fragile and that a major defeat would force the United States to negotiate a peace settlement that would leave Japan in control of its Pacific conquests.

 Emperor Hirohito himself was briefed on the Guadal Canal operation. The stakes could not have been higher. The Japanese plan called for a coordinated attack from multiple directions. A diversionary force would attack across the Matanika River on the western side of the perimeter, drawing American attention. The main assault would come from the south where Lieutenant General Masau Maruyama would lead the Sendai Division through the jungle and strike the American lines near the Lunga River.

 The terrain south of Henderson Field was some of the worst on Guadal Canal. dense jungle, steep ravines, deep mud, rivers and streams cutting through hills and ridges. The Japanese had started building a trail called the Marama Road on October 12th. Engineers hacked through 15 mi of jungle. Between October 16th and 18th, the Sendai Division began its approach march.

 Each soldier carried his rifle, ammunition, pack, and one artillery shell for the mountain guns being manhandled through the jungle. The conditions were brutal. Rain turned the trail to mud. Soldiers slipped and fell carrying heavy loads. The artillery pieces had to be disassembled and carried in sections. Progress was slower than expected.

 Maruyama thought his units were 4 mi south of Henderson Field when they reached their attack positions. They were actually 8 mi out. The Japanese had complete disregard for the Marines and conducted no reconnaissance of the American defenses. They planned to do a movement to contact. Simply march forward until they hit the American lines, then roll over them and seize the airfield.

 The attack was scheduled for October 22nd, then delayed to October 23rd, then delayed again to October 24th. The diversionary attack on October 23rd went badly. Two Japanese regiments tried to cross the Matanikau River led by nine tanks. Marine artillery had the crossing zeroed in. They fired more than 6,000 rounds before the Japanese infantry could even reach the river.

 The tanks made it partway across the shallow water before 37 mm anti-tank guns destroyed them. The Marines could hear Japanese soldiers screaming during lulls in the artillery fire. Marine patrols the next morning found about 600 dead Japanese in the area. The attack failed completely, but it did divert American attention.

Marine commanders shifted units toward the Matanikau, believing that was where the main attack would come. The southern sector of the defensive perimeter, where Basilone’s guns were positioned, was thinly held. Lieutenant Colonel Puller’s First Battalion, 7th Marines, was responsible for a sector originally designed for a full regiment.

 Puller had about 1,000 Marines spread along 15 100 yards of defensive line. The terrain helped. The sector was anchored on a ridge later called the coffin corner. Dense jungle approached the ridge from the south. The Marines had cut fields of fire through the vegetation and strung barbed wire.

 They had dug foxholes and machine gun positions, but the front was long and Puller did not have enough men to defend it in depth. Baselone commanded two sections of M1917 A1 heavy machine guns. The weapon was a water- cooled 30 caliber machine gun, reliable and devastating when used correctly. Each gun required a crew of at least three men, a gunner, an assistant gunner, and an ammunition bearer.

 The guns were heavy, about 100 lb, with the water jacket full and mounted on their tripods. They could fire 500 rounds per minute, and maintain sustained fire as long as ammunition and water held out. Baselon had positioned his six guns to cover the most likely avenues of approach. The crews had dug shallow pits for the guns and piled sandbags around them for protection.

They had cleared lanes of fire and registered the ranges. They had stockpiled ammunition cans near each position. They had filled the water jackets from cantens and water cans. They were as ready as they could be, but many of Basselon’s men were sick. Malaria was endemic on Guadal Canal. Men fought with fevers, chills, and exhaustion.

Some could barely stand. They stayed at their positions because there was no one to replace them. Food was limited. Supplies came by ship when the Japanese Navy allowed it, which was not often. The Marines ate captured Japanese rice, canned rations, and whatever they could scavenge.

 They were hungry, tired, and sick. But they were Marines and they would hold their positions until ordered otherwise or until they died. When Sergeant Briggs’s warning came through at 9:30, Puller immediately alerted his battalion. He called up artillery support and requested reinforcements from the newly arrived Army 164th Infantry Regiment.

 But the Army troops were green, just arrived on the island, unfamiliar with the terrain. It would take time to move them into position. Basilone heard the warning and passed it to his gun crews. Check your weapons. Make sure the ammunition is ready. Fill the water jackets. Clear the fields of fire. Then wait.

 The jungle south of the ridge was pitch black. No moon, heavy cloud cover, occasional rain squalls. The darkness was so complete that a man could not see his hand in front of his face. The Marines listened. They heard movement in the jungle. Voices speaking Japanese. The clink of equipment. The sounds grew louder, closer.

 Then came singing. Japanese soldiers singing as they moved through the jungle toward the American lines. They were making no attempt at noise discipline. They believed the Americans would break and run at the first contact. The singing stopped. The night went silent except for the rain and the sounds of the jungle. Then the artillery started.

 Japanese mountain guns and mortars opened fire on the ridge. Shells crashed into the marine positions. The explosions lit up the night in brief flashes. Shrapnel winded through the air. Men screamed when they were hit. The barrage lasted 30 minutes. It was heavy but not overwhelming. The Japanese had struggled to move their artillery through the jungle and had limited ammunition.

 When the barrage lifted, the infantry assault began. The Japanese came out of the darkness in waves. Hundreds of men screaming banzai and charging up the ridge toward the marine positions. Baselone opened fire. The six heavy machine guns hammered out rounds. Tracers arked through the darkness. The sound was deafening.

 The guns fired in long sustained bursts, sweeping across the fields of fire. The Japanese soldiers ran straight into the wall of fire. Men fell in clusters. The lead ranks collapsed. Those behind stumbled over the bodies and kept coming. The people machine guns never stopped firing. Baselone moved from gun to gun, directing fire, helping crews clear jams, bringing up ammunition.

 His hands moved automatically, trained by years of practice. He had learned machine gunnery in the army and had trained marines in its use. He knew the weapon better than anyone in the battalion. The first wave broke. The Japanese pulled back into the jungle, regrouped, and came again. The second wave was larger, better organized.

 They threw grenades as they advanced. Mortar rounds fell among the marine positions. One of Baselon’s gun crews took a direct hit. The gun was destroyed. Three men were killed instantly. Basalone grabbed the spare gun, dragged it to a new position, set it up, and opened fire. The gun was hot. The barrel glowed red in the darkness.

 Steam rose from the water jacket. Baselone fired anyway, burning his hands on the metal, ignoring the pain. The second wave broke. The Japanese pulled back again. Baselon assessed his situation. Two and of his six guns were destroyed. Several crew members were dead or wounded. Ammunition was running low. The remaining crews were exhausted.

 Some were wounded and still fighting. Others were sick with malaria and shaking with fever. But they held their positions. The Japanese came a third time. This wave hit multiple points along the defensive line simultaneously. They were trying to find a weak spot, a gap in the defenses they could exploit.

 Basalone’s sector took the heaviest pressure. Hundreds of Japanese soldiers charged the ridge. The machine guns opened fire again, but now ammunition was becoming critical. The crews were burning through belts faster than they could reload. Baselone realized they would run out of ammunition before dawn, and if they ran out, the Japanese would overrun the position and reach Henderson Field.

Without the machine guns, there was nothing between the Japanese and the airfield, except a few exhausted marines with rifles. Baselone made a decision that violated every tactical principle in the Marine Corps manual. He left his position in the middle of a firefight and ran back through the jungle to retrieve more ammunition.

 The nearest ammunition dump was approximately 150 yards behind the front line. Baselone ran through the darkness carrying his 45 caliber pistol. Japanese infiltrators were everywhere. Small groups had gotten through the lines and were moving behind the marine positions. Basalone could hear them in the jungle, could hear them firing at marines in their foxholes.

 He kept running. He reached the ammunition dump, loaded himself with as many belts and cans as he could carry, and ran back. The weight was staggering. approximately 90 lbs of machine gun ammunition, belts draped over his shoulders, cans clutched in both hands. He ran through the darkness, through the mud, through the Japanese infiltrators.

He made it back to his guns and distributed the ammunition. The crews reloaded and continued firing. Baselone made that run three more times during the night, each time carrying 90 pounds of ammunition through enemy held jungle. each time making it back alive. Each time keeping his guns firing. On the second run, he encountered a group of Japanese soldiers who had infiltrated behind the lines.

 They were crouched near a fallen log, attempting to work their way toward the Marine command post. Basilone saw them in a brief flash of artillery fire. He dropped the ammunition he was carrying, drew his 45 caliber pistol, and fired. The range was close, maybe 15 ft. He killed three Japanese soldiers before the others scattered into the darkness.

 He retrieved the ammunition and continued his run to the gun positions. On the third run, Japanese mortar fire was falling along the trail he was using. He could hear the shells coming, that distinctive whistle as they arked through the night sky. He threw himself flat each time he heard one coming, pressed his face into the mud, felt the concussion as the shell exploded nearby.

shrapnel winded overhead. When the explosion faded, he got up and kept running. The weight of the ammunition made him slow, made him an easy target, but stopping was not an option. His marines needed ammunition. Without it, they would die and the position would be overrun. On the fourth run, he was so exhausted he could barely stand.

 His legs shook, his hands trembled, his vision blurred. He had not slept in over 30 hours. He had not eaten in over 12 hours. He was operating on adrenaline and willpower, but he made the run, delivered the ammunition, and returned to his guns. Around midnight, another gun was destroyed by a grenade. Basilone was moving to replace it when he saw the problem.

 The Japanese dead were piling up in front of the marine positions. The bodies were stacked so high they were blocking the fields of fire. The machine guns could not depress low enough to hit the Japanese soldiers advancing behind the piles of corpses. Baselone called for volunteers. Several Marines crawled out of their positions and dragged Japanese bodies out of the way, clearing the fields of fire.

 They did this under fire with Japanese soldiers shooting at them from less than 50 yards away. They cleared enough space for the guns to resume effective fire. The battle continued. Wave after wave of Japanese soldiers charged the ridge. The machine guns cut them down. The Japanese kept coming.

 They were brave, determined, and committed to taking Henderson Field. They believed their emperor had ordered it, and they would die trying. The Marines were equally determined. They had taken Henderson Field in August, and they would not give it up. Around 2:00 in the morning, Army reinforcements from the 164th Infantry Regiment arrived. They moved into positions behind Puller’s marines, adding depth to the defense. The Japanese attack continued.

Around 3:00 in the morning, Basselon’s gun positions ran out of water. The water jackets had boiled dry from sustained firing. Without water, the barrels would overheat and warp, rendering the guns useless. Baselon and his crews urinated into the water jackets to keep the guns cool. It was disgusting and desperate, but it worked.

The guns kept firing. By 4:00 in the morning, the Japanese attacks were becoming less organized. The waves were smaller, the charges less coordinated. The Sendai Division was being bled to death on the ridge. At dawn, the attacks stopped. The Japanese withdrew into the jungle.

 The Marines held their positions and waited. The scene in front of Basilon’s guns was horrific. Japanese dead covered the ridge. Hundreds of bodies lay where they had fallen. Some were piled three and four deep. The smell was overwhelming. Blood, cordite, death. Basilone and his surviving crew members sat among their guns, exhausted, covered in mud and blood, many wounded, all sick, but they had held.

 Henderson Field was still in American hands. Puller came forward to assess the situation. He walked through the killing ground and counted the bodies. Later estimates put the Japanese dead in front of Baselon sector at nearly 1,000. Basilone was credited with personally killing at least 38 enemy soldiers, many at close range with his pistol when the machine guns were being reloaded or repositioned.

 Of the 16 men in Baselon’s two machine gun sections, only he and two others survived the night unwounded. The rest were dead or seriously wounded. The Japanese tried again on the night of October 25th. This time the Marines were reinforced and ready. Puller’s battalion, now supported by army troops, repelled every attack.

The Japanese lost another 300 men. At dawn on October 26th, General Hiyakutake called off the offensive. His Sendai division had been destroyed as an effective fighting force. More than 1500 of Maryama’s soldiers were dead. Another thousand were wounded or missing. The survivors retreated into the jungle, starving and diseased.

 The offensive had failed completely. The Marines lost approximately 60 killed in the two-day battle. Most of those deaths occurred in sectors other than Basilone. Where Basilone’s guns had been positioned, the Japanese breakthrough never happened, but the cost had been terrible. The aftermath of the battle revealed the scale of the Japanese commitment and the brutality of the fighting.

 Marine patrols found Japanese soldiers who had been carrying personal belongings wrapped in cloth, family photographs, letters from home. They had expected to die on Guadal Canal. Many had written farewell letters before the attack. They believed they were sacrificing themselves for their emperor and their nation. One marine patrol found a Japanese officer’s diary.

 The entries described the march through the jungle, the difficulty of the terrain, the shortage of food and water. The last entry written hours before the attack said the officer was proud to die for the emperor and hoped his death would contribute to Japan’s final victory. He asked that his family be notified that he had died honorably in battle.

 Another patrol found letters from Japanese soldiers families. Mothers writing to sons, wives writing to husbands, children writing to fathers. The letters spoke of pride in their service, hopes for their safe return, descriptions of life back home. The Marines who found these letters were struck by how similar they were to their own letters from home.

 The enemy they were killing were not faceless monsters. They were men with families, hopes, and fears, fighting for their country just as the Marines were fighting for theirs. But understanding that did not change the reality of combat. The Japanese had attacked with the intent to kill every marine on the ridge and take Henderson Field.

 The Marines had defended with the intent to stop them. Both sides fought with everything they had. One side won, the other side lost. That was the nature of war. The American victory at Henderson Field marked the turning point of the Guadal Canal campaign. Before the battle, the outcome of the campaign was in doubt.

 The Japanese had numerical superiority on the island. They had more troops, more artillery, and a seemingly endless willingness to send reinforcements. After the battle, the momentum shifted decisively to the Americans. The Japanese had committed their best troops and their heaviest firepower to the October offensive.

 When that offensive failed, they had nothing left to try. The Sendai Division, considered one of the elite formations of the Japanese army, had been effectively destroyed. Its regiments were shattered. Its battalions were at half strength or less. Its soldiers were starving, diseased, and demoralized. The division retreated into the jungle and spent the next weeks trying to survive rather than fight.

 The Japanese Navy attempted to deliver reinforcements in November during the naval battle of Guadal Canal, but American naval forces intercepted and destroyed most of the convoy. Japan lost two battleships, one cruiser, three destroyers, and 11 transport ships. Thousands of Japanese reinforcements drowned or were killed before reaching shore.

 After that defeat, the Japanese high command accepted that Henderson Field could not be retaken. They began planning to evacuate their forces from Guadal Canal. The evacuation called Operation K took place between January and February 1943. Approximately 11,000 Japanese soldiers were successfully evacuated. Another 14,000 had died on the island from combat, starvation, and disease.

 For his actions on the night of October 24 and 25, John Baselone was awarded the Medal of Honor. The citation read that while the enemy was hammering at the Marines defensive positions, Sergeant Basilone in charge of two sections of heavy machine guns fought valiantly to check the savage and determined assault in a fierce frontal attack with the Japanese blasting his guns with grenades and mortar fire.

 One of Sergeant Basselone’s sections with its gun crews was put out of action, leaving only two men able to carry on. Moving an extra gun into position, he placed it in action, then under continual fire, repaired another and personally manned it, gallantly holding his line until replacements arrived. The citation concluded that his great personal valor and courageous initiative were in keeping with the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.

 Baselone received the medal on May 21, 1943 at a ceremony in Australia. He was the first enlisted marine to receive the Medal of Honor in World War II. After receiving the medal, Basilone said, “Only part of this medal belongs to me. Pieces of it belong to the boys who are still on Guadal Canal. It was rough as hell down there.

” The Marine Corps brought Basilone back to the United States for war bond tours. He traveled the country, appearing at rallies, meeting civilians, selling bonds to fund the war effort. He was celebrated as a hero, featured in news reels, interviewed by reporters. His hometown of Raritan held a parade in his honor.

 But Baselone did not want to be a celebrity. He wanted to return to combat. He repeatedly requested orders back to the Pacific. The Marine Corps refused. They needed him for war bonds and morale. He was more valuable as a symbol than as a fighting marine. In late 1943, Baselone was assigned as a machine gunnery instructor at Camp Pendleton in California.

 While there, he met Lena May Riggy, a sergeant in the Marine Corps Women’s Reserve. They married in July 1944. Finally, in late 1944, Basselone received orders to return to the Pacific. He was assigned to Sea Company, First Battalion, 27th Marines, Fifth Marine Division. The division was training for the invasion of Ewima.

 On February 19th, 1945, gunnery Sergeant John Basselone landed on Red Beach on Euoima with the first assault wave. The Japanese had fortified the island with thousands of gun positions, bunkers, and tunnels. The beaches were mined and covered by interlocking fields of fire. The first day of the battle was a nightmare.

 Marines landed under heavy fire and struggled to move inland. Baselone led his machine gun section off the beach and toward their objectives. He encountered a Japanese block house that was pinning down marines on the beach. The block house was heavily fortified with thick concrete walls and firing slits. Basilone attacked it alone.

 He worked his way around to the top of the blockhouse, exposed to enemy fire from multiple directions. He dropped grenades and demolition charges through the gunports. The explosions destroyed the blockhouse and killed the entire Japanese crew. With the blockhouse eliminated, the Marines could advance off the beach. Basilone then guided a trapped marine tank out of a minefield.

 The tank had driven into a buried mine pit and was stuck, unable to move, taking fire from Japanese positions. Baselone walked in front of the tank, exposed to enemy fire, directing the driver through the minefield to safe ground. The tank was saved and continued supporting the infantry advance. Minutes after clearing the tank from the minefield, John Baselone was killed by a Japanese mortar shell. He was 28 years old.

 He had been on Ewima for less than 3 hours. For his actions on Ewima, Basilone was awarded the Navy Cross postumously. The citation read that he displayed great personal valor and courageous initiative and concluded that his actions helped Marines break through the Japanese defenses during the critical early hours of the invasion.

 John Baselone became the only enlisted marine in World War II to receive both the Medal of Honor and the Navy Cross. His body was returned to the United States and buried in Arlington National Cemetery. His widow, Lena, never remarried. She wore her wedding ring until her death in 1999. In Raritan, New Jersey, a parade is held every year in Barcelona’s honor.

 A statue of him stands in the town depicting him cradling his water cooled 30 caliber machine gun just as he did on the night of October 24, 1942. A Navy destroyer escort USS Baloney was named in his honor. The ship served from 1949 until 1977. In 2010, HBO released a miniseries called the Pacific that depicted Baselon’s service at Guadal Canal and Ewoima. Private First Class Nash W.

Phillips, who fought with Basilone on Guadal Canal, later recalled what he saw that night. Basilone had a machine gun on the go for three days and nights without sleep, rest, or food. He was barefooted and his eyes were red as fire. His face was dirty black from gunfire and lack of sleep. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders.

He had a 45 tucked into the waistband of his trousers. He just dropped by to see how I was making out. Me and the others in the section. I will never forget him. He will never be dead in my mind. Lieutenant Colonel Chesty Puller, who commanded the battalion that night, later reported that there were nearly 1,000 enemy dead in front of his positions, with several hundred more between the American lines and the wire.

What the Japanese did not understand was the nature of the men they were fighting. The American Marines on Guadal Canal were not the soft, undisiplined troops Japanese propaganda claimed they were. Japanese military doctrine in 1942 was heavily influenced by Bushido, the warrior code that emphasized spirit over material.

 Japanese training taught soldiers that superior fighting spirit could overcome enemy firepower. This belief had served Japan well in its war against China, where Japanese troops often defeated larger Chinese forces through aggressive tactics and willingness to accept casualties. But the Americans were not the Chinese. American military doctrine emphasized firepower, combined arms, and defensive positions.

 American training taught Marines to use cover, coordinate supporting fires, and employ weapons with maximum effect. When Japanese infantry charged American defensive positions, they were not facing demoralized Chinese troops. They were facing well-trained marines with machine guns, mortars, and artillery support. The Japanese belief in spiritual superiority led them to consistently underestimate American military capability.

 Before the Guadal Canal campaign, Japanese intelligence estimated American strength on the island at 2,000 troops. The actual number was over 11,000. Japanese commanders assumed Marines would break and run when faced with determined attacks. Instead, Marines held their positions and fought back. Japanese soldiers were taught that Americans valued their own lives too highly to stand and die.

 The night of October 24 proved that assumption catastrophically wrong. The Sendai Division had expected to march through the Marine positions and seize the airfield with minimal resistance. What happened instead was that they discovered American Marines would not only stand and fight, but would continue fighting under conditions that should have caused any reasonable person to retreat.

 Baselon’s gun crews held their positions even when outnumbered 20 to1. They held when their guns were being destroyed by grenades and mortars. They held when they were running out of ammunition. They held when they were wounded and sick. They held because they were marines and marines do not abandon their positions. This was a fundamental cultural shock for Japanese commanders.

 In the Japanese military tradition, if an attack failed, it was because the attacking troops lacked sufficient fighting spirit. After the Battle of Henderson Field, Japanese commanders had to grapple with a different reality. Their troops had shown maximum fighting spirit. They had charged enemy positions repeatedly despite horrific casualties.

 They had been willing to die to achieve their objective, and they had failed anyway, not because they lacked spirit, but because they had run into an enemy with superior firepower, better defensive positions, and equal determination. Japanese military leadership struggled to adapt to this new reality. They had built an entire military doctrine around the concept of superior fighting spirit, overcoming material disadvantages.

 When that doctrine failed at Guadal Canal, they had no alternative strategy to fall back on. They could not match American industrial production. They could not replace losses as quickly as the Americans could. They could not supply their forces as effectively as the Americans could. All they had was fighting spirit.

 And Guadal Canal proved that was not enough for the Marines who survived. The memory of that night never faded. They had faced an enemy who outnumbered them 3 to one, who was willing to die to reach their objective, who charged again and again despite horrific casualties. And they had held. They held because of courage, training, discipline, and determination.

 They held because men like John Basselone refused to abandon their positions or their fellow Marines. They held because giving up was not an option. The battle for Henderson Field became a defining moment in the Pacific War. It proved that American forces could stand and fight against determined Japanese attacks.

 It proved that firepower and defensive positions could defeat mass infantry assaults. It proved that Marines would hold their ground no matter the cost. But more than that, it marked a psychological turning point. Before Guadal Canal, Japanese military commanders believed they were facing an enemy that could be broken through aggressive tactics and superior fighting spirit.

After Guadal Canal, they understood they were facing an enemy that would not break, that had industrial superiority, and that was willing to fight as long as necessary to win. This realization changed Japanese strategic planning for the rest of the war. After Henderson Field, Japanese commanders shifted from offensive operations aimed at destroying American forces to defensive operations aimed at making the war so costly that America would negotiate a peace settlement.

 This defensive strategy failed because it was based on a fundamental misunderstanding of American national character. The Japanese believed Americans would grow tired of the war and demand peace. Instead, the American response to casualties was to produce more weapons, train more soldiers, and fight harder. Every Japanese defensive position that inflicted heavy casualties on attacking Americans simply ensured that the next attack would be supported by even more firepower.

The Battle of Henderson Field demonstrated this pattern in microcosm. The Japanese threw everything they had at the Marine positions, inflicted significant casualties, and still lost. The American response was not to withdraw or negotiate. It was to reinforce the Marines, bring in army troops, and hold the position at all costs.

 Japanese commanders who had studied American history should not have been surprised by this response. Americans had demonstrated in their own Civil War that they were willing to sustain enormous casualties to achieve victory. The Union Army in 1864 and 65 suffered casualty rates that would have broken most nations. But the Union kept fighting, kept sending more troops, kept attacking until the Confederacy collapsed.

 The same pattern repeated in World War I when American forces took heavy casualties but kept attacking until Germany surrendered. Japanese military leaders either did not understand this aspect of American character or did not believe it applied to a war in the Pacific. Guadal Canal taught them otherwise. John Basselone’s story became legendary in the Marine Corps.

 His name is taught to every marine recruit. His actions are studied in militarymies. His legacy lives on in the core he served. But Baselo never sought glory or recognition. When asked about his actions, he consistently deflected credit to the Marines he fought with. He believed he had simply done his job, nothing more.

 The truth is that his job on that night was impossible. Holding a 1500yard defensive line with 1,000 marines against 3,000 attacking Japanese soldiers should not have been possible. But Basilone and the men of the first battalion, seventh marines, made it possible. They held because there was no other option.

 They fought because that was what Marines do. And they won because men like John Basselone refused to accept defeat. In the years since the war, historians have analyzed the battle and debated why the Japanese offensive failed. Some credit American firepower, specifically the effectiveness of the M1917, a one machine gun in defensive positions.

 Others point to Japanese tactical errors, including the failure to conduct proper reconnaissance, the decision to attack at night through difficult terrain, and the reliance on frontal assaults against prepared positions. Still others note the difficult terrain and supply problems that prevented the Japanese from bringing their full strength to bear at the critical point.

 Technical factors played a role. The M1917A1 machine gun when properly employed could fire 500 rounds per minute with effective range out to 1500 yd. A single gun with sufficient ammunition could stop an infantry company in its tracks. Basilone’s six guns firing overlapping fields of fire created a killing zone that no infantry force could cross.

Tactical factors mattered too. Puller had positioned his BR battalion on defensible terrain with good fields of fire. The Marines had dug in, established clear lanes of fire, and registered their supporting artillery. When the Japanese attacked, they were advancing uphill at night through jungle against an enemy that knew exactly where they were coming from.

 Strategic factors were decisive. The Japanese needed to take Henderson Field to win the Guadal Canal campaign. The Marines needed to hold Henderson Field to keep the Allies in the Solomon Islands. For the Japanese, losing the battle meant losing momentum and ultimately losing the campaign. For the Marines, losing the battle meant losing the airfield and potentially being driven off the island.

Both sides understood the stakes, but ultimately the battle came down to individual marines at individual defensive positions, making the decision to hold or fall back. At Basalone’s position, that decision was never in doubt. He and his remaining crew members fought until they physically could not continue.

 They did not retreat when they were outnumbered. They did not retreat when their positions were being hit by grenades and mortars. They did not retreat when they ran out of water for the gun jackets. They held because that was what Marines do. Other sections of the defensive line told similar stories. Earlier in the campaign on August 21st, Private First Class Al Schmid had demonstrated the same determination at the Battle of Tenneroo River.

 When his machine gunner was killed and his gun commander wounded, Schmid took over the weapon. Even after a grenade explosion blinded him, he continued firing based on voice directions from Corporal Leroy Diamond until reinforcements arrived. More than 200 Japanese dead were counted in front of his position. Schmid received the Navy Cross for his actions.

Platoon Sergeant Mitchell Page, commanding a machine gun section in another part of the line, held his position through multiple Japanese attacks. On October 26th, when all his gun crews were killed or wounded, Paige manned one of the guns alone, firing it from the hip while moving along the ridge to cover multiple firing positions.

 He received the Medal of Honor for his actions that night. These men and dozens of others whose names were never recorded in official reports held the line on Guadal Canal. They were the reason Henderson Field remained in American hands. They were the reason the Japanese offensive failed. They were the reason the United States maintained its foothold in the Solomon Islands and eventually pushed north toward Rabol and the Japanese home islands.

 That is the story of how one marine held off an entire Japanese night assault, not entirely alone because he had 15 men in his two machine gun sections. But by the end of the first night, only three of those 16 men were still standing. And John Baselone was one of them. If you found this story as compelling as we did, please take a moment to like this video.

 It helps us share more forgotten stories from the Second World War. Subscribe to stay connected with these untold histories. Each one matters. Each one deserves to be remembered. And we would love to hear from you. Leave a comment below telling us where you are watching from. Our community spans from Texas to Tasmania.

From veterans to history enthusiasts, you are part of something special here. Thank you for watching and thank you for keeping these stories