Based on extensive interviews with dozens of war
veterans and surviving relatives of the flag-raisers, this accurate and brilliantly
written chronicle published by Bantam in 2000 (which was also made into a movie
of the same name) places the famous photo in its proper context by telling the
true stories of the young men who raised the flag and providing the essential
background details that led up to that dramatic moment. And James Bradley is an
amazingly gifted storyteller. Reading this engrossing book--which almost didn't
get written, because the author's heroic father himself narrowly escaped death
in battle and refused to discuss his wartime experiences with his family--has
given me a whole new understanding of, and appreciation for, this unique
photograph, which almost didn't get taken because someone else had already
photographed the first flag-raising on the Suribachi summit two hours earlier
and the press photographers, including Rosenthal, didn't know there was going
to be a second flag-raising and had to scramble to document it.
I might never have read Flags of Our Fathers had I not stumbled across it on a bookshelf
during a casual browse at my local Goodwill thrift store last summer. When I discovered
it and saw what it was—a classic hardcover in good shape, with the instantly
recognizable photo of the Stars and Stripes being raised gracing the elegant
white, blue and gold dust jacket—I felt lucky. I had found a lost jewel, a
discarded treasure. Fourteen years ago when it first came out, Flags of Our Fathers was a New York Times bestseller, and now here
it was on a Goodwill bookshelf, unwanted and rejected, available for just two
dollars. I wondered why someone had decided to get rid of it. Perhaps, for some
reason or other, the previous owner no longer recognized its value. Maybe he
(or she) no longer appreciated the heroic sacrifices of our men in uniform
several generations ago on a distant island in the Western Pacific. Maybe the
previous owner had lost interest in U.S. military history. Or perhaps he or she
had died and left the book behind for someone else to treasure and enjoy. In
any case, once I opened Flags of Our
Fathers and began reading, it was hard to put down and stop thinking about.
As a result of this serendipitous discovery and what I have learned from
reading this remarkable book, I find myself in total agreement with G. K.
Chesterton that "Everything has been saved from a wreck." (PLEASE
NOTE: As can be expected with any frank discussion of U.S. military history, Flags
of Our Fathers does contain graphic descriptions of war violence along with
some language and anecdotes that are less than edifying. However, the latter
amount to minor detractions from an otherwise magnificent work that I heartily
recommend to adult readers.)
With its candidly detailed
biographies of the six flag-raisers, its nostalgically vivid portrait of early
to mid-twentieth-century America, and its gripping minute-by-minute account of
the nearly impossible invasion and conquest of the most heavily fortified
island in military history, Flags of Our Fathers
is certainly a fitting tribute to the self-sacrificing heroism of our nation's
Marines in World War II and to the religious and moral values that made America
great. But in addition to that, it offers a compelling and beautiful witness to
the power of our Catholic faith and its essential role in American life. The book reveals that the author's beloved father, John
Henry Bradley (1923-1994)--the one flag-raiser whose profile is clearly visible
in the center of the photograph and the only one who lived to see his
grandchildren--was a lifelong, devout practicing Catholic whose entire military
and civilian life was dedicated to the humble service of others. I was
particularly edified to read of his devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, which
included praying the Rosary daily and calling on her assistance in times of
need.
As a husband, father of eight children, and funeral
home director in his postwar years, John Bradley enjoyed an excellent
reputation as a quiet and respectable family man both in and beyond his small
Catholic hometown of Antigo, Wisconsin. He had never intended to join the
Marines or end up in combat on a distant overseas island. As a young man during
World War II, he initially trained and served as a Navy medic here in the
States but was then unexpectedly transferred into Easy Company, the ironically
named Marine contingent that sailed across the Pacific to storm the beaches of
Iwo Jima under heavy Japanese fire in February 1945. American forces suffered
more casualties in the one-month invasion and conquest of that tiny island than
in any other battle of the entire War. During that fierce and grueling
struggle, Navy corpsman John Bradley risked his life over and over again to
tend wounded Marines. He was awarded a Navy Cross for his valor. In his
humility--and also because of the tragic horrors he witnessed during the
battle--he kept that prestigious award hidden in a box in his closet for the
remainder of his life, turned down all interview requests from journalists, and
never discussed his famous role in the flag-raising on Iwo Jima with his family
members or anyone else in town. He adamantly refused to allow his subsequent
civilian life to be defined by what he sincerely considered his undeserved
status as a military celebrity.
Regardless of the accolades showered upon him by the
U.S. government, media, and public throughout the forty-nine years of his life
as a war veteran, John Bradley never thought of himself as a hero for helping
five Marines to raise a large American flag on a makeshift pole on an island
mountaintop in the Western Pacific. He had simply done it because it was his
duty to pitch in and give his buddies a hand, unaware that this simple action
would be immortalized in a chance photograph and that he would be at the center
of that photograph. He felt that he did not deserve such fame because so many
of his Marine buddies, who had served just as valiantly and faithfully as he on
Iwo Jima, had made the ultimate sacrifice without ever receiving comparable
recognition since their deaths on the island went largely unreported by the
media in the weeks following the flag-raising. When his family pressed him to
discuss the matter of the flag-raising, the most he ever said about it was that
the real heroes of Iwo Jima were the guys who didn’t come back.
Yet it is precisely his profound humility and his
constant deflection of attention away from himself that clearly identifies John
Henry Bradley as a genuine American hero. Even if we agree with him in
admitting that his celebrity status as a flag-raiser may have been somewhat
exaggerated during his lifetime, his true heroism lay in his quiet, untiring,
selfless, everyday dedication to the service of his country and his fellow men
and women. Furthermore, we must acknowledge that, as a faithful Catholic
throughout his life, John Bradley was--and is--a true hero of the Catholic
Church and a role model for lay Catholics around the world. But despite his
impeccable credentials as a candidate for sainthood, his life of heroic virtue
has yet to receive any official acknowledgement from the Church. It is my
sincere hope that this beautiful example of everyday holiness will not remain
hidden under a bushel basket, or simply be ignored and forgotten like that magnificent
book on a Goodwill shelf. With a number of John Bradley’s relatives and friends
still alive today, I strongly believe that his cause for canonization should be
introduced without further delay. And I hope and pray that his talented son
James Bradley, who has been away from the Church for many years, will one day rediscover
the priceless gift of the Catholic faith given to him by his saintly father.
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