Original subtitles

Previously, on World War II in HD.

Les finally mutters what we are all thinking.

We are lost.

Alabama native Nolen Marbrey sees his first combat in the pacific

when the young Marine and his patrol are ambushed in the jungles of New Britain

Japs are coming from everywhere. My body can't stop shaking.

Meanwhile, nurse June Wandrey travels from Wisconsin to North Africa

and straight to the bloody front lines in Tunisia.

Patients pouring from the front. I can't help wishing we can save them all.

And in Europe. I can see the bullets coming in,

and a whole stream of those bullets hit the ship. I was wounded all over.

After surviving a strafing attack off Utah Beach,

Charles Scheffel hitchhikes back to be with his men along the German border.

I'll be damned if I have to fight the Germans with a bunch of rookies.

Grant us a common faith that man shall know bread and peace,

that he shall know justice and righteousness, freedom and security

an equal opportunity and an equal chance to do his best

not only in our own lands but throughout the world.

Today we are on the offensive all over the world,

bringing the attack to our enemies.

In the pacific, by relentless, submarine and naval attacks, amphibious thrusts,

and ever-mounting air attacks,

we hedeprived the Japs of the power to check the momentum of our ever-growing

and ever-advancing military forces.

Germany has her back against the wall. In fact, three walls at once.

And allowing the enemy no respite,

the Allies are now pressing hard on the heels of the Germans

as they retreat northward in ever-growing confusion.

What is the job before us in 1944?

To win the war, to win the war fast,

and to win it overpoweringly.

They call this place, "the anus of the world".

Word is, navy was gonna use it as a base but

then decided it wasn't fit for human habitation.

So they gave it to us Marines instead.

After barely surviving his first brutal engagement

in the miserable jungles of New Britain,

21-year-old Nolen Marbrey is on the south pacific island of Pavuvu.

He is training with the rest of the 1st Marine

division, preparing for his next combat assignment.

This dumb lieutenant keeps running around yelling: "remember, you're under fire!

There's a million japs out there."

But after being in combat, I know he doesn't know a damn thing.

These war games, they ain't nothing like the real thing.

Right after reveille, the captain gets on the horn

and says: "Get your gear, we are heading north."

Judging by the amount of stuff we're packing, must be quite a trip.

The ship's pulling out. The squawk box comes to life.

Marines of the 1st division, now, listen up.

The captain tells us our destination is Peleliu.

Pele-who?

Marbrey and the 1st Marine division are heading to Peleliu,

a small island located 2,100 miles north of Pavuvu.

Although it is one of the most remote spots in the pacific,

Macarthur believes he must secure Peleliu's airfield in order

for an Allied invasion of the Philippines to succeed.

The attack on Peleliu will be the first time

Marbrey assaults a heavily defended beachhead.

The enormity of what lays just ahead of us races through my mind.

I feel a prickle at the base of my hairline, and it goes all the way down my spine.

"Okay, listen up, men..."

Our captain's voice booms, reminding us of our main objective: the airfield.

Jap artillery is raining down all around us.

Our boat lurches with every shell that hits.

We huddle close together and try to steady ourselves. No one says a word.

Men are running everywhere, headed for the center of the island.

My eardrums feel like they will burst with every shell that hits.

Marbrey and the 4,500 Marines, now on the shores of Peleliu,

find themselves at the gates of an unexpected hell.

As the sweltering tropical heat engulfs them,

the Japanese prepare to unleash a vicious surprise.

We've got the krauts on the run.

A lieutenant bet me $50 we'd be in Germany in two weeks.

I took that bet.

Cause the way I see it, is even if I lose, that means we're winning.

After recovering from wounds sustained two days after the d-day invasion,

25-year-old Oklahoman Charles Scheffel is with the 39th infantry regiment in Normandy.

He has been promoted to captain and is now in command of the 200 men of "C" company.

Our orders are to sweep ahead and reconnoiter

a two-mile-wide path all the way to Germany.

After breaking through the German defenses in Normandy, the

Allies are now fighting a potent and highly mobile war.

In the face of relentless pressure, Hitler orders a general withdrawal across France.

His forces will stand and fight from a position of

great advantage along the infamous Siegfried line,

,a formidable 400-mile-long defensive wall that

consists of over 18,000 bunkers and tank traps protecting Germany's western frontier.

I hate towns.

The Germans like to target crossroads with mortars,

machine gun placements, sometimes even a lone tank.

One well-hidden German with an antitank gun could knock

out our lead tank, stop the whole column in its tracks.

You don't hear the one that's coming right at you that wounds you,

because the shell's going to get there faster than any sound.

About the only time that you really know something is when you hear a crack.

And you know that guy missed you,

and then you don't even know whether he even saw you but just was firing

because he thought somebody was in where you were.

But you don't stop and think about, about those things.

In towns battered by Allied bombings, Scheffel and his men engage

in sporadic firefights with a desperate but determined enemy.

This form of urban warfare takes its toll, but it doesn't

stop the Americans from keeping the Germans on the run.

Once the 39th infantry clears the town, Scheffel directs

his men to push on and pursue the fleeing Germans.

Overhead we occasionally see the contrails of hundreds

of our bombers heading east to pound the enemy.

You get them good, boys.

We'll be there soon.

A voice yells out: "move out!"

So I start jumping over the bodies that don't move.

24 Hours ago, Private Nolen Marbrey and the 1st Marine

division landed on the coral shores of Peleliu.

Their mission is to take the airfield and secure

the island, but so far, it is not going well.

Casualties already number well above 1,000.

And there's another problem.

Temperatures on the sweltering pacific island reach up to 115 degrees.

Fresh water is in short supply, and marines are falling over from heat exhaustion.

I can barely move.

My body aches.

The heat and the sun are unbearable.

The only water we have to drink has fuel in it.

On the way here, somebody screwed up, and gasoline ended up in our drinking supply.

As the Marines push inland toward their objectives,

Peleliu's 10,500 Japanese defenders fall back into their heavily fortified positions.

Unknown to the Marines, the Japanese are employing a new strategy.

Realizing they cannot stop the Americans, the Japanese are setting

up their defenses to inflict as many casualties as possible.

Their hope is to bleed the Americans into negotiating an end to the war.

At the center of Peleliu is Umurbrogol Mountain, the island's highest point.

There the Japanese have built intricate defenses in the steep canyons

and razor-sharp ridges overlooking the airfield.

Nothing in the Marines' training or fighting

experience has prepared them for a battle against

such a virtually impregnable defensive position.

Finally we're at the edge of the airfield.

An officer tells us some Jap pillboxes up on

the mountain are taking out a lot of our men.

He tells us to rest fast.

We'll be making the push shortly.

Dearest family, everywhere we go, the people shout, clap, throw kisses and flowers.

It's a touching, humbling experience.

Everyone seems to think we'll be in Berlin in no time.

24-Year-old nurse June Wandrey is with the American 7th army advancing through France.

After tending to wounded GIs in North Africa, Sicily, and Italy, Wandrey

and her surgical unit joined the Allied invasion force of over 150,000 troops

that landed on France's Mediterranean coast on august 15th.

They are now chasing the fast-moving invasion force

up through southern France toward the German border.

Our backs and ovaries are taking a terrible beating riding in the open-backed trucks.

But France is beautiful.

If only we would have invaded this place last year, we

wouldn't have had to spend those hellish months in Italy.

Although I did meet a young American supply sergeant named Max there.

We took a wonderful trip to Capri together.

It was almost enough to make me forget about the war.

Before I left Naples, we only had a few minutes left to

say goodbye, so we promised each other we'd write often.

I suppose from now on, my new battle cry will have to be:

"love postponed on the account of war".

The overpowering stench makes us throw up as we

push through the torn bodies and broken equipment.

We hurry on, our tires sticking to the gore.

Captain Charles Scheffel and his company are crossing Belgium's

farm country, heading toward the western border of Germany.

On September 13, 1944, Scheffel and the 39th

infantry regiment reach the North Rhine region,

becoming one of the first American units to enter the Reich.

The next day, we're given a new objective: The town of Duren.

And to get there, we'll have to clear out a small village on the way called Lammersdorf.

When the Colonel tells me, I stab my finger at the map and ask

if those two crosshatched areas are what I think they are.

He nods. It's the line.

Looks like we're in for a long day.

From everything we hear, our guys up in those caves are having a hell of a time.

We're fighting on this damn island, and the Japs, they're fighting on the inside of it.

Private Nolen Marbrey and the 1st marine division are locked

in a fierce firefight for control of Umurbrogol Mountain.

As soon as the Americans control the mountain,

they can begin using the island's airfield.

Division operations estimated it would take three days to secure the entire island,

but Marbrey and the Marines are up against 10,500 deeply dug-in Japanese soldiers.

We're each given two grenades and told to move out.

Our flamethrowers run up to these double doors,

And then the heavy odor of burnt flesh drifts out.

Everyone is firing away, but I try and save my ammo and make every shot count.

I just hate using my bayonet.

In previous amphibious landings, the Americans outnumbered the Japanese three to one.

But on Peleliu, it is the 9,000 Marines who are outnumbered,

and casualties continue to mount.

"In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, amen."

As fatigue and frustration overtake the marines,

the struggle for Peleliu becomes a battle of attrition.

The days blend into constant confusion.

When we're not fighting, we walk around in a daze,

sticking bayonets into Japs, making sure they aren't just playing dead.

Some guys collect gold teeth as souvenirs.

I collect a couple and stick them in my pocket.

Things are getting out of hand.

I'm beginning to wonder, what the hell are we doing here?

We pull slowly into the city, only to find it's empty.

No white flags or people anywhere.

Captain Charles Scheffel and the 39th infantry regiment are

entering the town of Lammersdorf just inside Germany's border.

Their mission is to secure the town and then attempt to push through the defenses beyond.

According to my map, about a mile ahead is a fortified hill along the Siegfried line.

I don't like it.

We'll have to take out those pillboxes one at a time.

Our four tanks go first, single file, each with a squad of riflemen.

I trail the last tank.

I hear an incoming shell.

Me and my guys dive into a ditch.

Our lead tank is in flames.

We got several guys down, some killed, others screaming.

I feel a surge of panic.

I try to radio in artillery support: "Come in, come

in, this is Charlie. Come in, damn in, we need help."

No answer.

I can't feel anything. I can't see. There is just nothing.

Maybe I'm dead.

Left, right, left, right...

Dear god, please take care of my wife, Ruth, my

mother, and my brother. Please keep them safe.

Defense, defense...

I feel myself falling out of limbo and back to earth.

And I realize I'm still alive.

I couldn't bend my arm.

I looked at my feet where my block man was laying,

and he had a big sliver of steel right through his stomach.

He's dead.

I got a fragment in my right eye, and I'm bleeding all over.

I bend my head so I could look out of this eye, and this kid was dead.

I was wounded in the leg and all over, and I realized if I just lay there, I would die.

But I wanted to survive.

I wanted to get back and make love to my wife.

So figured if I crawled back down this bar ditch,

I'll eventually run into one of, some of my own men.

So I dragged myself with this arm, and you know who I ran into?

A medic.

And I said: "what is your name?"

He said, "Jesus."

I said I can not believe it.

We've got a lot of wounded rolling in.

How do they expect us to treat these poor boys

when we keep packing up and moving every night?

We set up the O.R. tent immediately and begin operating.

Nurse June Wandrey and her mobile medical unit are

speeding through France at a blistering pace,

moving 28 times in their first 32 days.

They are chasing the Germans, who are launching brutal

counter-attacks even as they withdraw toward their homeland.

Somehow I have to keep three surgical teams working 14-hour

shifts supplied with sterile dressings, instruments, and sutures.

It's impossible to get the bloody linens clean with our limited water supply.

And how am I going to get the laundry dry to provide enough sterile linens for the O.R.?

The nearest laundry is 200 miles back.

Despite the conditions, fewer than 4% of the soldiers receiving

care in the field die as a result of wounds or disease.

We work and work.

The days run into each other with continuous surgery.

I'm so exhausted.

When it's quiet, all I do is worry about what's going to happen next.

I received a letter from Max in Italy.

He's been badly wounded.

He says he doesn't think he's been crippled.

I guess that's good.

And he's going home.

Home.

One thing is sure: I'm not going home for Christmas this year.

What do you do when you run out of tears?

Today is day ten.

Command said Peleliu would be secure in three.

As most of the Marines continue the bloody struggle for control of Umurbrogol Mountain,

Nolen Marbrey and a small group of Marines are ordered

to secure a beach on the far side of the island.

Although most of the enemy seems to be up in the hills, they advance cautiously.

Marbrey knows that the Japanese could be anywhere.

We're creeping into the open, ready to shoot anything that moves.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see mortars hitting a few hundred yards away.

There's a piercing pain.

I'm falling into a daze.

When Marbrey comes to, he is on a transport ship.

He has serious wounds to his head and neck from shell fragments.

The men around me are crying in pain.

The corpsman goes from stretcher to stretcher offering comforting words and help.

He tells me I lost a lot of blood and that I'll need a transfusion.

A week later, Marbrey arrives back on Pavuvu island,

where he will spend the next few weeks recovering.

After we land, I'm swarmed by new replacements asking millions of questions.

They want to know how I got hurt and what it's like being in battle.

They're all itching to join in the fight.

I know what it's like. I've been there.

By the time Marbrey makes a full recovery, he is promoted to corporal.

He rests and awaits his next orders.

Back on Peleliu, the fighting drags on for over 70 days.

America eventually wins the battle, but the cost is tremendous.

Almost 10,000 Marines and army soldiers are killed or wounded.

The incredibly high casualties and surprising length of the fight

are a shocking preview of island battles yet to come.

But as Americans focus on the upcoming re-conquest of the Philippines,

the losses sustained on Peleliu are almost all but overlooked by the public.

A mass of emotions rushes in on me. A lump rises up in my throat.

I haven't seen America since 1942, and I'm finally home.

Less than a month after nearly being killed by German

mortar fire in a battle at the Siegfried line,

Captain Charles Scheffel arrives back in the U.S.

Army doctors at the front managed to save his life

but were forced to amputate his trigger finger.

Scheffel arrives at Fort Sam Houston hospital in San Antonio, Texas,

ready to begin the long road to recovery and readjust to life on the home front.

It's strange to talk to Ruth after all this time.

Neither of us is the same.

And I'm lost for words. Oh, all I can mutter is: "Well, your husband's home,

so quit your job, and come on down."

She replies: "I'll be on the 3:00 train the day

after tomorrow. " That's all I need to hear.

I have two days to find us a hotel room in a town that has no vacancies.

San Antonio is filled with wounded soldiers and their families.

I go from hotel to hotel, asking in vain if there's any cancellations,

and finally I park myself in the lobby of St.

Anthony hotel downtown, hoping for a miracle.

While I was sitting there in this hotel,

three hours before my wife was to get here, a guy walked up to me,

and he said: "captain, you look like a man that, is in trouble."

I guess he had seen me sitting there.

And, he walked off.

He came back about two minutes later

and said: "Captain, hold out your hand."

I couldn't believe it. He laid the keys to a room in my hand.

So when I saw my wife and hugged her, I told her,

I said: "Honey, we have a room in St. Anthony Hotel."

So we went there, and what had this guy done?

We stayed in a suite that night.

My wife gave birth to our first child nine months to the day after that night.

True story.