All language subtitles for s02e11

- [Man on Radio] C-Shine
calling flight ops,

may we taxi off and take off?

May we taxi off and take off, over?

(plane engine rumbling)

(dramatic orchestral music)

- [Narrator] Tokoyo, spring, 1945.

One of the great cities of the world

becomes one of the great
battlefields of the world.

Center and soul of the
Japanese war effort,

Tokoyo is objective number one

for strategic air attack by the Allies.

From the far off Mariana,

from Guam,

from Saipan,

from Tinian,

come the B-29s,

bringing war to the makers of war.

Strategic attack,

shatter and destroy transport,

industry,

communication,

resources,

manpower.

More critical to a country at war

than her divisions in the field.

Her ships at sea,

her planes in the air.

The great fire rage consumed Japan.

66 cities are swept by
hurricanes of flame.

Long-range fighters from Iwo Jima,

rough, tough, mustangs,

protect the super ports

on their incessant sweeps over Japan,

and scourge and scrape
as they come and go.

Fighters and bombers together

destroy 51% of Tokoyo,

44% of Yokohama,

26% of Osaka.

City after city,

raid after raid.

Back to base,

1,400 miles from Tokoyo to the Marianas,

a distance that would mean
death for the crippled

were it not for the
emergency landing strip

on Iwo Jima.

Without a haven midway,

without the protection of the fighters

to beat off the Japanese,

the raids would be impossible.

Iwo Jima is the haven.

B-29s wounded over Japan
come limping in to safety,

to refuge.

Before the war is done,

25,000 American airmen will
owe their lives to Iwo Jima.

And in the shadow of Mount Suribachi,

a base of rough, tough mustang,

that guard the bombers
on their way to Tokoyo.

Iwo Jima, the indispensable island.

But before Iwo Jima,

over the limitless wastes of the Pacific

on a hundred islands behind Iwo,

a different war had to be waged

before Iwo could be reached.

The campaign of staging and supply

in a twilight zone which was
neither combat nor peace.

Only a fraction of the millions in uniform

ever fired a shot in anger.

For them,

World War II was routine
monotony from morning til night.

Day in and day out,

week in and week out,

month in and month out,

year in and year out.

(jazzy orchestral music)

Plodding apathetically back and forth

on routine, unspectacular missions.

Cargo ships called by their crews

buckets or sieves,

kept island tied to island,

linking rear area places to war unkempt

to peace at home.

If the dreary road of
these ships and sailors

demanded that they do
that and this and that,

they nevertheless
executed their dull jobs.

The South Sea Island,

exotic,

magic,

train route,

land of mystery and romance,

Ulithian couture,

Los Negros and Magua,

Koo-nah-foo-ki and Noumea,

Tango-tabu and deh-fa.

But when the GIs arrived,

the islands became something else again.

A land of horseshoes and horseplay,

beer and baseball,

jive and jacks.

Task groups gathered as
the waning days of the war

called for yet more fire,

yet more blood,

on a yet more disciplined island.

From rear bases long since forgotten

by all except those who
were stationed there,

the convoys continually moved off

toward the destiny of history.

Not all the battles in the Pacific

were fought against the Japanese.

There were other terrors to face.

And none was worse than an angry sea,

lashed by typhoons.

Eternal Father,

strong to save,

whose arm hath bound the restless wave,

who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep

its own appointed limits keep.

Oh, hear us when we cry to thee,

For those in peril on the sea!

(dramatic orchestral music)

According to the Marines,

the South Pacific is the
only place in the world

where you can stand up
to your waist in mud

and have dust blow in your eyes.

(upbeat orchestral music)

For assault troops,

one thing was always certain.

However bad any given island may offend,

the next was sure to be worse.

But the men who were
ordered to take Iwo Jima

in February, 1945,

could not know that the
worst of all lay ahead.

From all over the Pacific,

the ships converged on Iwo Jima.

The voyage was long,

tedious,

and terminal.

The men relaxed and waited

as best they knew how.

Iwo Jima,

eight square miles of reeking volcanic ash

on the doorstep to Tokoyo.

Seven battleships,

four heavy cruisers,

15 destroyers take up position,

slapping a ring of floating artillery

around the tiny island,

picking their targets,

finding the range.

February of 1945,

all the guns and all the ships

prepare for 72 hours of fury,

continuous,

unbroken barrage,

the most concentrated naval
bombardment of World War II.

(suspenseful orchestral music)

(booming)

Secretary of the Navy, Forrestal,

is there to tell the Sailors and Marines,

"We have little choice
except to take Iwo Jima

"by force of arms,

"by character and courage."

There is no room for
surprise and maneuver,

only headlong assault,

a shore,

23,000 Japanese soldiers are dug deep

in the most formidable
defenses the Marines

have ever encountered.

The island is a solid mass of
underground fortifications,

impregnable against bombardment.

They can be destroyed
only by force of arms,

by character, and courage.

(dramatic orchestral music)

From the caves of Mount Suribachi,

which dominate the entire island,

the Japanese zero in their
artillery on the landing beaches

sending the Marines to
the shore in an avalanche

of fire and steel,

paralyzing any advance,

threatening obliteration.

Desperate calls for help, for support,

go out to the carriers off shore.

In combat information centers,

all available planes and pilots

are prepared to answer the pleas

from a beachhead in hell.

Winged sailors fly to the
aid of earthbound Marines.

By character and courage,

more reserves,

more supplies,

more Americans spill
into the slaughterhouse

that is Iwo Jima,

and claw their way toward
their target, Suribachi.

While the mountain remains Japanese,

the island remains invincible.

5,000 American Marines will
die before Iwo Jima falls.

But in the bloody bookkeeping of war,

the price will be in balance

by the 25,000 American airmen

whose lives the island will save.

One man will die today

to save five who live tomorrow.

556 feet, Suribachi towers
above the island of Iwo Jima.

556 feet, the Marines
fight their way upward.

556 feet from disaster to victory.

When freedom from her mountain height

unfurled her standard to the air,

she tore the azure robe of night,

and set the stars of glory there.