SCHMID-ALBERT

A  HERO  OF  BATTLE  OF  GUADALCANAL

In 1945, Warner Brothers released a movie titled “PRIDE OF THE MARINES,” based on the experiences of a unique American hero, Marine Sergeant Albert Andrew Schmid, who fought at Guadalcanal, and when he came home, he fought another battle for sanity, health and happiness.  Born in 1920, Al grew up a cheerful, freckle-faced kid in a Philadelphia neighborhood.  After his mother died, Schmid was on his own and worked on farms and did other odd jobs.

On Sunday, December 7, 1941, Schmid was sprawled out on the floor looking at the paper.  When the radio stopped playing music, a voice relayed the news that the Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor.  Thinking it was a joke, Schmid tuned in another station but soon heard the same thing and wondered to himself – where the hell is Pearl Harbor?  Two days later, on December 9, 1941, he joined the Marine Corps.  Schmid left Philadelphia on January 5, 1942, and after recruit training at Parris Island, South Carolina, and further training at New River, North Carolina, he returned home on a short leave before heading for "destination unknown."  Soon afterward Schmid boarded a troop transport as part of the 11th Machine Gun Squad, Company H, 2nd Battalion, 1st Regiment, 1st Marine Division.  On August 7, 1942, the 10,000 men of the 1st Marine Division, the largest Marine force ever engaged in landing operations up to that time, assaulted Guadalcanal, beginning the first American offensive against the Japanese.

The Marines had expected a counterattack the moment they landed, but encountered no real opposition during their first two weeks. Then the Japanese sent a crack army regiment to retake Guadalcanal.  On August 18 the Japanese attacked Marine positions along the Ilu River where the 2nd Marine Battalion was waiting.  H Company's machine-gun squad was there with Schmid and two other Marines, CPL Leroy Diamond and PFC John Rivers, manning a .30-caliber water-cooled machine gun inside a sandbag-and-log emplacement camouflaged with palm fronds and jungle greenery.  At 3AM., August 21, 1942, Marines said the Japanese looked like a herd of cattle coming toward them as they shouted, "Marine, tonight you die," and "Banzai," firing their rifles as they came.  PFC Rivers opened up on them, and the mass broke up. Screams of rage and pain came from the other side as the Japanese concentrated everything they had on Schmid's position and on another machine-gun position 150 yards to their right.  Bullets whined past the Marines' heads, throwing mud and wood chips around them.

The machine gun on their right stopped firing, put out of action.  Then a dozen bullets tore into PFC Rivers' face, killing him.  His finger froze on the trigger, sending 200 rounds into the darkness.  Cold rage rising in him, Schmid shoved Rivers' body out of the way and took over the machine gun.  CPL Diamond got in position to load it for him.  Every time Schmid raked the attacking Japanese he heard them yelling as bullets ripped into them.  CPL Diamond then was hit in the arm, the bullet knocking him partially across Schmid's feet.  He could not load anymore but while Schmid fired the gun CPL Diamond stood beside him spotting targets. Schmid would fire to the left, feel Diamond hitting him hard on the arm and pointing to the right, swing the gun and hear Japanese yelling as bullets hit them.  Schmid was now both loading and firing the machine gun.  When he got close to the end of a 300-round belt of ammunition, CPL Diamond would punch his arm, Schmid would fire a burst, rip open the magazine, insert a new belt and resume firing.  At one point a Japanese soldier put a string of bullets through the .30 caliber's water jacket.  Water spurted over Schmid's lap and chest; the gun crackled and overheated but did not jam.  Schmid continued loading and firing the machine gun for more than four hours, with and without help.  Somehow a Japanese soldier got close enough to throw a hand grenade into Schmid's position.  "There was a blinding flash and explosion," Schmid recalled.  "My helmet was knocked off.  Something struck me in the face."  When he put his hand up, all he felt was blood and raw flesh.  Then he felt pain in his left shoulder, arm and hand.  He could see nothing.  He collapsed on his back in the nest.  "They got me in the eyes," he muttered to CPL Diamond, who lay beside him.

The Japanese were still pouring bullets into the machine-gun position when Schmid reached around to his holster and took out his .45.  CPL Diamond yelled, "Don't do it, don't shoot yourself."  "Hell, don't worry about that," Schmid said.  "I'm going to get the first Jap that tries to come in here!"  "But you can't see," Diamond reminded him.  "Just tell me which way he's coming from and I'll get him," Schmid replied.  Both men were helpless in the hole, and it was getting light. A sniper in a tree across the river was firing almost straight down at them.  The only thing protecting them was the shelf where the machine gun stood, about 2 feet in diameter.  Although his sight had not come back, Schmid took his position between the spread rear tripod legs of the machine gun, squeezed the trigger and, with Diamond yelling directions in his ear, resumed firing at the Japanese.  One of their squad members braved the continuous Japanese gunfire and jumped into the nest and staunched Schmid's and CPL Diamond's wounds.  The next thing Schmid knew, they were taking him out on a blanket.  He had the .45 automatic in his hand.  Hearing his lieutenant's voice, Schmid held out the gun. "I guess I won't need this anymore, sir," he said. Then Schmid passed out.

All night the Japanese continued their assaults.  At dawn when it was clear the position would hold, a reserve Marine battalion attacked the Japanese from their flank and rear. Of the 800 Japanese who attacked across on August 21, only 14 wounded were picked up, and one was captured unhurt.  The number of bodies counted within range of Schmid's machine gun ran into the hundreds. The other Marines who were there that night credited him with killing at least 200 Japanese.

Schmid was put on a hospital ship and sent back to the United States and was admitted to the naval hospital at San Diego on October 20, 1942, where he endured many operations to remove shell fragments from his face and eyes.  On February 18, 1943, Schmid received the Navy Cross "for extraordinary heroism and outstanding courage." He went to Washington, D.C., and was commended by President Franklin D. Roosevelt and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  In Philadelphia a parade was given in Schmid's honor and the Philadelphia Inquirer presented him with its Hero Award and $1,000, and he received the key to the city.  Articles about him appeared in Life and Cosmopolitan magazines.

Schmid was honorably discharged from the Marine Corps on December 9, 1944. After an unsuccessful bid in politics, he and his family moved to Florida so he could be close to Bay Pines Veterans Hospital in St. Petersburg.  Schmid regained partial eyesight in his remaining eye and spent his years pursuing his hobbies of organ-playing, ham radio and fishing.  Schmid died of bone cancer on December 2, 1982, and was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.

Submitted by CDR Roy A. Mosteller, USNR (Ret)