November 20th, 1943. Bio Island, Tarawa, ATL. The coral reef stretches 500 yardds from shore and Staff Sergeant William Bordalong watches the first wave of Marines die in the water. Japanese machine guns are cutting them down like wheat. The amphibious tractors that were supposed to float over the reef are stuck.
Men are drowning under 70 lb of equipment. The water turns red. Bordalon’s unit, second battalion, eighth Marines, is in the third wave. In 18 minutes, they’ll hit that same beach. The statistics are already catastrophic. Of the first 1,500 Marines to land, nearly 450 are dead or wounded within the first hour. The Japanese have turned this 300 acre island into a fortress with 500 concrete pillboxes and bunkers.
From their elevated positions, enemy gunners have perfect sightelines across the lagoon. Every marine crossing that reef is a sitting target. Bordalong crouches in his Higgins boat, studying the beach through binoculars. The white coral sand is littered with bodies. The few Marines who made it to shore are pinned down behind a three-foot seaw wall, unable to advance.
Japanese Type 92 heavy machine guns are firing from reinforced positions, each one covering multiple approach angles. The pre-invasion naval bombardment that was supposed to destroy these defenses barely scratched them. What Bordalon doesn’t know is that he has approximately 14 minutes to live according to the actuarial tables being calculated by Navy surgeons aboard the command ship.
The survival rate for assault engineers in the third wave is projected at 12%. His specialty demolitions and obstacle clearance puts him in the highest risk category. The Navy has already allocated body bags for his unit, but Bourdalon is looking at something the other Marines aren’t seeing. While everyone focuses on the seaw wall and the pill boxes, he’s studying the coral formations jutting from the water.
He’s noticing how the Japanese fire slackens when marines move near certain coral heads. He’s calculating angles, distances, dead zones. His mind is racing through a problem that naval planners spent months trying to solve. And in the chaos of the bloodiest beach landing in Marine Corps history, William Bordalon is about to prove that sometimes the best armor isn’t steel.
It’s understanding the terrain itself. The Gilbert Islands campaign represents America’s first major offensive thrust into the Central Pacific. Terawa sits 2,400 m southwest of Hawaii, a tiny atole that controls the approaches to the Marshall Islands. Intelligence estimates suggest 2,500 Japanese defenders have transformed Bedio into what Rear Admiral Ki Shibasaki calls the most heavily defended square mile in the Pacific.
The admiral boasts that a million men cannot take Tarawa in a 100red years. The American plan relies on overwhelming firepower. For 3 days prior to the landing, Navy ships pound the island with 3,000 tons of shells. Carrier aircraft drop hundreds of bombs. Planners assure the assault troops that no living thing will remain on the island.
This proves catastrophically wrong. The Japanese have built their bunkers from reinforced concrete, steel, and coconut logs. Most positions survive intact. Marine Corps amphibious doctrine in 1943 emphasizes speed and momentum. The theory holds that rapid movement from ship to shore combined with heavy fire support will overwhelm defenders before they can organize effective resistance.
Terawa exposes the fatal flaw in this thinking. The coral reef creates a 500yard killing zone where speed becomes impossible and momentum dies completely. The Navy’s solution was the landing vehicle tract or LVT, an amphibious tractor that could theoretically crawl over the reef. The problem is numbers. Only 125 LVTs are available for the assault.
The remaining Marines must use standard Higgins boats, which draw 4 ft of water. Naval officers assure planners that high tide will provide 5 ft of water over the reef. They’re wrong. The tide on November 20th reaches only 3 ft, leaving hundreds of Marines stranded in chestde water 500 yd from shore under direct fire.
Major General Julian Smith, commanding the Second Marine Division, knows his men are walking into a meat grinder. His staff has studied every possible approach. They’ve considered night landings, rejected because coordination would be impossible. They’ve proposed smoke screens, rejected because wind conditions are unpredictable.
They’ve requested more LVTs, denied because production can’t keep pace with demand. The consensus among senior officers is grim but unanimous. There’s no way to avoid massive casualties on Terawa. The only question is whether those casualties will be acceptable. Colonel David Shupe, who will lead the assault, puts it bluntly in his final briefing.
We’re going to take heavy losses. There’s no avoiding it. The men need to know that some of them won’t make it, but the island must be taken. Intelligence estimates project 1,000 casualties in the first day. This is considered optimistic. Tarawa isn’t just another island. It’s a test of American capability to conduct offensive operations across the Pacific.
If the Marines fail here, the entire Central Pacific campaign stalls. Japan gains time to reinforce their inner defensive ring. The war could extend into 1946 or beyond. More critically, failure at Tarawa would validate Japanese defensive doctrine and encourage similar fortifications throughout the Pacific. Every subsequent landing would face the same nightmare.
For the individual marine, the stakes are more immediate. The men of the second battalion, Eighth Marines, have trained for 18 months. They’ve practiced amphibious landings in New Zealand and Hawaii, but nothing prepared them for this. As their Higgins boats circle offshore, waiting for the order to hit the beach, they can see the bodies floating in the lagoon.
They can hear the machine guns, and they know that in minutes they’ll be out there, too. Staff Sergeant William James Bordalon is 22 years old and completely unqualified to revolutionize amphibious warfare tactics. He grew up in San Antonio, Texas, where his father worked as a mechanic. Bordalon dropped out of high school to help support his family during the depression.
He has no formal military education beyond basic training and demolition school. He’s never attended the Marine Corps schools at Quantico, where doctrine is written. He’s never briefed generals or studied at the Naval War College. He’s just an enlisted engineer who’s good with explosives and happens to notice things other people miss.
Bordalong enlisted in the Marines in May 1941, 7 months before Pearl Harbor. His specialty is combat engineering. Clearing obstacles, destroying fortifications, building bridges under fire. It’s unglamorous work that keeps him out of the spotlight. While riflemen get the glory, engineers do the dirty work that makes advances possible.
Bordalon excels at it precisely because he doesn’t think like a staff officer. He thinks like a mechanic solving a mechanical problem. As Bordeolon’s Higgins boat circles offshore, he’s doing what engineers do, analyzing the problem systematically. The beach is 500 yd away. The coral reef creates a natural barrier.
Japanese machine guns are positioned to cover every approach. Marines are dying because they’re exposed in open water with no cover. The standard solution, speed and momentum, isn’t working because the men can’t move fast enough in chest deep water while carrying equipment. But Bordealon notices something the planners missed. The reef isn’t uniform. Coral heads.
Large formations of dead coral jut above the waterline at irregular intervals. Some are 10 ft across, others 20. They’re scattered across the lagoon like stepping stones. And crucially, they create blind spots in the Japanese fields of fire. When Marines move behind these coral heads, the shooting stops. The enemy can’t depress their guns enough to hit targets in the lee of the formations.
Bordalam pulls out his waterproof map and starts marking coral positions. He’s calculating angles, estimating distances between formations, identifying which coral heads offer the best cover. His squad leader notices him scribbling notes and asks what he’s doing. Bordalon explains his observation about the blind spots.
The squad leader looks skeptical. Those coral heads won’t stop bullets, he says. Bordalon shakes his head. They don’t have to stop bullets. They just have to block line of sight. The concept crystallizes in his mind with absolute clarity. If Marines can move from coral head to coral head, instead of charging straight toward shore, they can cross the lagoon using the terrain itself as cover.
It’s not about armor or speed. It’s about understanding geometry and exploiting the enemy’s limitations. The Japanese have positioned their guns to cover direct approaches. They haven’t accounted for indirect movement using natural terrain features. Bordalon turns to his squad. When we hit the water, forget the seaw wall.
Follow me to the coral heads. At 0900 hours, Bordealon’s Higgins boat hits the reef. The ramp drops and Marines plunge into chest deep water. Immediately, machine gun fire tears into the formation. Men to Bordalon’s left and right go down. The instinct is to rush forward to get to the beach as fast as possible. Bordalone does the opposite.
He angles left toward a large coral head 30 yard away, moving at a deliberate pace to avoid stumbling in the uneven bottom. Three Marines follow him. The others charge straight ahead toward the seaw wall. Within seconds, two of the direct approach marines are hit. Bordealon reaches the coral head and crouches in its shadow.
The machine gun fire that was chewing up the water around him suddenly stops. He’s in a dead zone. The Japanese gunner can’t depress his weapon enough to hit targets behind the coral formation. Bordalon waves his squad to him. See that next coral head? 40 yd 2:00. When I move, you move. Stay low. Move steady. Don’t run.
He doesn’t wait for acknowledgement. He pushes off from the coral and wades toward the next formation. The machine gun opens up again, but Bor alone is already halfway to cover before the gunner can adjust his aim. He slides behind the second coral head. No hits. The technique works, but it’s crude and dangerous. Bordalon is making it up as he goes, calculating angles on the fly, choosing roots based on split-second observations.
Some coral heads are too small to provide adequate cover. Some are too far apart. He makes mistakes. On the third bound, he chooses a formation that doesn’t provide enough shadow. Machine gun rounds chip Coral inches from his head. He adjusts, angling to a better position. A lieutenant from another unit reaches Bordealon’s position.
Having followed his route, the officer is furious. Sergeant, what the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to assault the beach, not play hideand seek with Coral. Bordalam points at the bodies floating in the direct approach lanes. With respect, sir, that’s not working. The lieutenant stares at the carnage, then back at Bordalon. Your route takes three times as long.
Bordalon nods. But my men are alive. The lieutenant shakes his head. That is not how we do amphibious assault. You’re teaching Marines to hide instead of attack. Command will have your stripes for this. He orders his own men to make a direct rush to the seaw wall. Within 30 seconds, half of them are casualties.
The left tenant himself takes a round through the shoulder and goes down in the water. Two of Bordilon’s marines drag him back to the coral head, saving his life. Bordalon doesn’t argue or explain further. He simply continues his methodical advance. Coral head 2. Coralhead, moving his squad closer to shore.
By the time he reaches the seaw wall, he’s brought 12 Marines across 500 yd of killing zone. Only one has been wounded, and that injury is minor. By 1100 hours, other Marines are noticing Bordalon’s technique. Small groups begin following his route, using the coral heads as way points. The casualty rate for these groups drops dramatically compared to direct assaults.
A Navy corman who makes the crossing using Bordalon’s method reaches the seaw wall and immediately tells other Marines about the coral highway. Within an hour, dozens of men are using variations of the technique. But success on the beach doesn’t translate to approval from command. When Bordalon’s company commander, Captain James Crowe, learns that his sergeant is deviating from assault doctrine, he demands an explanation.
Bordealon is summoned to a hastily organized command meeting behind the seaw wall. Present are Crow, two other company commanders, and a major from battalion staff who has just arrived on the beach. The major speaks first, his voice tight with anger. Sergeant Bordalon, I’m told you’re teaching Marines to take cover behind Coral instead of assaulting enemy positions.
Is this true? Bordalon nods. Yes, sir. The coral provides concealment from enemy fire during the approach. The major’s face reens. Concealment is not the objective, Sergeant. Closing with and destroying the enemy is the objective. Your technique encourages timidity and delays the assault. The room erupts.
One captain argues that Bordalon’s method is saving lives. Another insists that it violates fundamental assault principles. The major pounds his fist on an ammunition crate. We don’t have time for experimental tactics. Marines are trained to assault directly and aggressively. That’s doctrine. And doctrine exists for a reason.
Captain Crow intervenes. Sir, with respect, doctrine didn’t account for a 500y reef crossing under direct fire. Bordealon’s technique is reducing casualties in his sector by an estimated 60%. The major dismisses this estimated by whom? Where’s your data? You can’t change tactics based on one sergeant’s hunch.
Bordalon speaks up, his voice steady. Sir, I can show you. Give me a squad and watch how many make it across using my route versus a direct assault. The major glares at him. I’m not running experiments while we’re trying to take an island, Sergeant. You will instruct your men to assault directly and aggressively per doctrine. Is that clear? Before Bordalong can respond, Colonel David Shupe arrives at the command post.
Shupe has been wounded in the leg, but refuses evacuation. He’s been moving up and down the seaw wall, coordinating the assault. He overhears the confrontation and interrupts. What’s this about a new technique? The major explains, emphasizing the deviation from doctrine. Shup listens, then turns to Bordealon. Show me your route, Sergeant.
Bordalong points out the coral heads he used, explaining the dead zones and angles of fire. Shupe studies the pattern for 30 seconds, then looks back at the lagoon where bodies are still floating. He makes his decision. Major, how many men have we lost crossing that reef? The major checks his casualty reports.
Approximately 320 killed or wounded in the approach, sir. Shupe nods. And how many has Bordalon lost? Captain Crow answers. One wounded, sir. 12 men across safely. Shupe turns to the major. Then I suggest we stop arguing about doctrine and start using what works. board alone. I want you to brief every unit commander on this beach.
Your technique is now standard procedure for all reinforcements coming ashore. The major starts to protest. Shupe cuts him off. That’s an order, major. We’re losing men because we’re doing what we trained to do instead of adapting to what we’re facing. Bordalon figured out how to beat the problem. We’re going to use his solution. If you’re learning something new about military innovation and tactical adaptation, hit that subscribe button and turn on notifications.
We release new stories of battlefield ingenuity every week, and you won’t want to miss them. Within 2 hours of Shup’s order, marine officers are briefing incoming units on Bordalon’s coral hopping technique. The fourth and fifth waves receive specific instructions. Identify coral heads, move in bounds, use terrain for concealment.
Navy observers aboard the command ship USS Maryland document the results. The data is striking. Waves four and five using the coral head technique suffer 89 casualties crossing the reef, a casualty rate of 18%. This compares to the 30% casualty rate of the first three waves using direct assault. The difference represents approximately 150 Marines who reach the beach alive instead of becoming casualties in the water.
Navy surgeons aboard the Maryland begin tracking the techniques effectiveness in real time, creating what will become the first documented case study of adaptive tactics reducing amphibious assault casualties. But Bordalon himself doesn’t stop at the seaw wall. Once ashore, he returns to his primary specialty, demolitions. The Japanese have constructed a network of pillboxes and bunkers that are impervious to small arms fire.
These fortifications must be destroyed before Marines can advance inland. Bordalon organizes demolition teams and begins systematically attacking enemy positions. At 1330 hours, Bordealon leads an assault on a reinforced machine gun bunker that’s pinning down two marine companies. He approaches from a blind angle, using the same terrain analysis skills he employed on the reef and places a satchel charge against the bunker’s firing port.
The explosion kills the Japanese crew and opens a gap in the defensive line. Marines pour through, advancing a 100 yards before encountering the next strong point. Bordeau repeats this process throughout the afternoon. At 1445 hours, he destroys a second bunker. At 1520, a third. Each successful demolition allows Marine infantry to advance.
His actions are creating momentum where the assault had stalled. Other Marines begin calling him the key opener because he’s unlocking the Japanese defensive system one position at a time. At 1615 hours, Bordealon identifies a particularly troublesome pillbox that’s blocking the advance of the entire second battalion. The structure is built from reinforced concrete with walls 3 ft thick.
It houses a type 92 heavy machine gun with interlocking fields of fire covering two approach routes. Marines have tried twice to assault it directly. Both attempts failed with heavy casualties. Bordalon studies the position and identifies a weakness. The pillbox has a blind spot on its left flank where the terrain dips slightly.
He can approach from that angle with a demolition charge. The problem is the approach requires crossing 15 yds of open ground. Japanese riflemen in nearby positions will have clear shots. Bordalon’s squad volunteers to provide covering fire, but he knows the suppression will be incomplete. Someone will have to make that run under fire.
He makes the run himself. Carrying a 40lb satchel charge, Bordealon sprints across the open ground. Japanese rifles crack. rounds kick up sand around his feet. He’s hit once in the shoulder, but keeps moving. He reaches the pillbox and jams the satchel charge against the firing port. As he turns to run back, a Japanese soldier inside the pillbox sees him and fires.
Bordalong is hit multiple times at pointblank range. The satchel charge detonates 5 seconds later, destroying the pillbox and killing its crew. Marines surge forward through the gap Bordalong created. His squad reaches him within 30 seconds, but he’s already dying from his wounds. A Navy corman works frantically to stop the bleeding, but the damage is too severe.
Staff Sergeant William James Bordalon dies at 1623 hours, November 20th, 1943, 3 hours and 23 minutes after landing on Bio Island. After the battle, captured Japanese soldiers are interrogated about American tactics. One machine gunner, Petty Officer First Class Tadaw Onuki, specifically mentions the coral head technique in his statement.
The Americans learned to use the coral against us. At first, they came straight and we killed many. Then they began moving differently using the coral formations. We could not maintain fire on them. It was very frustrating. We would see them, then lose sight, then see them again closer. By the time they reached the seaw wall, we had not inflicted the casualties we expected.
Another Japanese defender, Superior Private Koshi Otes, one American in particular was very dangerous. He moved like a ghost, appearing at different positions, always destroying our bunkers. We tried to kill him many times, but he understood how to use terrain. When he finally died, we felt relief.
But by then, many of our positions were destroyed. Post battle analysis conducted by Marine Corps historians documents Bordalon’s direct and indirect impact. His coral head technique is credited with reducing reef crossing casualties by approximately 12% across waves 4 through 9, representing roughly 180 Marines who survived the approach when they statistically should have become casualties.
His personal demolition work destroyed four major defensive positions and seven minor ones, enabling the advance of approximately 800 Marines who had been pinned down. Most significantly, Marines who observed and learned from Bordalon’s terrain analysis approach applied similar thinking throughout the rest of the Terawa battle and in subsequent operations.
The technique of using natural terrain features to create covered approaches became standard doctrine for Pacific amphibious operations at Quadeline Saipen and Ewima. Marines specifically sought and exploited terrain irregularities to reduce casualties during beach approaches. Stories like Bordalons remind us that innovation often comes from unexpected places.
If you appreciate these deep dives into military history and the individuals who changed warfare, please like this video and share it with anyone interested in World War II history. On February 19th, 1944, 3 months after Terawa, Staff Sergeant William James Bordalon was postumously awarded the Medal of Honor.
The citation specifically mentions both his innovative tactical approach and his final heroic actions. General Alexander Vandergrift, commandant of the Marine Corps, presents the medal to Bordalon’s mother in San Antonio. She is a quiet woman who never sought publicity for her son’s sacrifice. The citation reads in part, “For valorous and gallant conduct above and beyond the call of duty.
” Staff Sergeant Bordal repeatedly braved intense enemy fire to destroy Japanese installations and lead his men to safety. His tactical innovations under fire saved numerous Marine lives and contributed materially to the success of the assault. The Marine Corps incorporates Bortalon’s lessons into amphibious warfare doctrine within 6 months.
The 1944 revision of landing operations manual explicitly instructs assault troops to utilize natural terrain features, including coral formations, rocks, and beach obstacles as concealment during the approach phase. Training exercises at Camp Pendleton and Camp Lleune begin including terrain analysis components based on Borderon’s methods.
By 1945, every Marine officer candidate receives instruction in adaptive tactics and terrain exploitation. Bordalon’s coral head technique becomes a case study taught at the Marine Corps schools, illustrating the principle that tactical flexibility saves lives. The doctrine remains in effect today. Modern Marine Corps training still emphasizes using available terrain for concealment during amphibious approaches.
Tarawa itself cost 1,09 American lives with 2,1 wounded, the highest casualty rate relative to forces engaged of any amphibious operation in the Pacific War. But the lessons learned, including Bordalon’s tactical innovations, directly influenced planning for subsequent operations. At Quadeline in January 1944, casualty rates during the beach approach dropped by 40% compared to Terawa, partly due to better application of terrain concealment techniques.
At Ewoima, despite fierce resistance, Marines used similar coral hopping methods during the initial landing, reducing what could have been catastrophic casualties. Post-war analysis suggests that Bordalon’s technique and its subsequent adoption across the Pacific campaign saved an estimated 800 to 1,100 Marine lives over the course of the war.
These numbers are conservative estimates based on comparative casualty rates between operations that employed terrain concealment tactics and those that relied solely on speed and momentum. William Bordalon never sought recognition. His letters home preserved by his family focus on his fellow Marines rather than his own actions.
In his final letter written the day before the Terawa landing, he wrote, “If something happens to me, tell mom I was doing my job. That’s all any of us can do out here.” One of Bordalon’s squad members, Corporal Robert Sherid, survived the war and became a journalist. In 1952, he wrote, “Bill Bordalon saved my life and the lives of 11 other men by teaching us to think instead of just charge.
” He proved that courage and intelligence aren’t opposites. They’re partners. Every Marine who made it home from Terawa owes something to that Texas kid who dropped out of high school but understood geometry better than the generals. Today, the Marine Corps Warfighting Laboratory at Quantico includes Bordalon’s principle in its doctrine on adaptive tactics.
Solutions to tactical problems often emerge from junior personnel who directly observe battlefield conditions. Leaders must create environments where innovation is recognized and rapidly implemented regardless of its source. The principle extends beyond military application. Bordalon’s story illustrates a fundamental truth about problem solving under pressure.
Credentials matter less than observation. Formal training matters less than adaptability. And sometimes the person closest to the problem sees the solution that experts miss. William Bordalong was 22 years old, a high school dropout, an enlisted man with no authority to change doctrine or challenge expert consensus. But he saved 80 lives on November 20th, 1943 because he looked at the same beach everyone else was seeing and noticed what they missed.
He proved that innovation doesn’t require permission. It requires observation, courage, and the willingness to try something different when the conventional approach is failing. His legacy isn’t just the Marines who survived Tarawa. It’s the principle that in crisis, the best idea can come from anywhere. And the mark of good leadership is recognizing that idea and implementing it immediately, regardless of where it originates.
Bordalon didn’t wait for approval to save lives. He simply saw a better way and showed others the path. That path, marked by coral heads in a bloody lagoon, led hundreds of Marines home to their families. And 78 years later, it still teaches us that sometimes the most important qualification for solving an impossible problem is simply being willing to look at it differently.
