VALENTINE WINIECKI
Age: 86
Born: Nov. 13, 1923
Hometown: Buffalo, N.Y.
Residence: Palm Springs
Military branch: U.S. Navy and U.S. Marine Corps; 4th Marine Division; 23rd Regiment; 1st Battalion, Charlie Company, 1st Rifle Platoon.
Years served: March, 10, 1943 - March, 1949
Rank: Pharmacist mate 2nd class
Family: Wife Helen; two children, Karen Chesler of Hendersonville, N.C and Marianne Winiecki (deceased)
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Valentine Winiecki, a medical corpsman attached to the “Fighting Fourth” Marine Division, was awarded the Purple Heart, Bronze Star and Silver Star for his actions in combat during the war in the Pacific.
Winiecki scrambled from one fallen Marine to another, treating bullet wounds, broken bones and other artillery-inflicted injuries during four invasion landings.
Winiecki was 19 when he enlisted in the U.S. Navy. His brother was serving in the Marine Corps, but the teen didn't want any part of that branch, or the Army.
“I was at the naval hospital on the Potomac River, near Quantico, Va.,” he said. “After having a beautiful six months there, I got orders to report to Jackson, N.C.,” for hospital apprentice training.
“After getting off the train with two other hospital apprentices, there was a Marine Corps sergeant waiting for us,” he said.
The sergeant handed each man a set of luggage tags.
“He said, ‘Send your sea bags home,'” Winiecki said. “I said, ‘Everything I have is in there.'”
The men were told they wouldn't need anything they were carrying.
“The sergeant said, ‘You're now in the fleet Marine force,'” said Pearson.
He recognized the location of his soon- to-be-new home.
“It was where I used to send my letters to my brother,” he said.
Winiecki was sent to Camp Lejeune, N.C., for eight weeks of intensive field medical service school.
He was assigned to the “Fighting 4th” Marine Division and was shipped to the Pacific.
The division was based in Maui, Hawaii, where it organized for its invasion landings on the islands of Roi-Namur, Saipan, Tinian and Iwo Jima.
“We climbed down the cargo nets and got into landing crafts and as soon as the water was shallow enough, you went ashore for combat,” he said.
“You're terrified,” he said. “You don't think — you follow orders, you do what you're trained to do.”
The casualties were relatively small on Roi-Namur, but after securing that island, the next target — Saipan — would result in far more bloodshed.
“It's chaotic to begin with,” he said. “All you're trying to do is go forward — any way you can the casualties there were very heavy. It was kill or be killed.”
“After we secured the island, we thought we were through,” he said. “Then we found out we were going to invade the neighboring island, Tinian.”
“If a man is injured, you try to treat him on the spot,” Winiecki said.
Winiecki said one hospital corpsman was assigned to each 60-man platoon.
“We made sure the dead Marine had his dog tags,” he said.
He quickly evaluated each downed Marine's condition.
If he was bleeding from a vein, Winiecki would apply compresses over the affected area.
“If it's spurting out, you know it's an artery (and) you took his belt off and made a tourniquet out of it. For a fractured leg, you take the rifle and put it next to him and secure the limb to the rifle and you go on to the next one.”
“You pull back their eyelids to find out whether they were in shock or still living or not. You feel the carotid artery.”
Winiecki's platoon was hit hard on Saipan.
“I think we lost about half of them,” he said.
Winiecki had to maintain a certain distance from his men.“You couldn't get too attached,” he said.
The division's fourth and final invasion was on Iwo Jima.
“There were three Marine divisions that invaded Iwo Jima,” he said. “Iwo Jima was the first time any nation had invaded Japanese territory. This is why it was so well-defended.
About 60,000 Marines faced-off against 20,000 entrenched Japanese soldiers.
“They did not intend to lose that island,” he said.
“That was the worst one of all,” he said. “I think we lost roughly 18,000 men.”
The 4th Division came under heavy fire and casualties were mounting — but they were already operating shorthanded.
The battalion's aid station was wiped out during the landing.
“One doctor and 20 corpsmen were in a boat,” he said. “They never made it ashore.”
The men took refuge in artillery shell craters that had been gouged into the island's volcanic surface.
At night, the men would buddy-up and take turns keeping watch on four-hour shifts.
“The next day it would be time to advance again,” he said. “After three days, we made more progress. The next thing I remember is I was about ship with the rest of the wounded.”
Winiecki had been shot in the hands and the face.
He tried to get some answers from a doctor aboard the ship.
“I said, ‘Where the hell am I? Hey, I have to get back to my platoon.'”
“He said ‘Are you a good swimmer? We're three days out going back to Pearl Harbor.'”
He spent 45 days in a hospital in Pearl Harbor for observation.
“You're in limbo,” while they determine if you're fit to return to action, he said.
After 45 days, he rejoined his outfit, and the division was replenished with Marines and was soon up to full strength.
“We were all trained. We had our combat gear ready,” he said. “We had the senior colonel in charge of our regiment. He had the honor of committing us for the first wave,” for the invasion of Japan.
“We all sent our letters of good bye,” Winiecki said. “Then, God bless him, Harry Truman dropped the bomb.”
