When 54 Japanese Tried to Execute One American — He Killed Them All in 7 Minutes

One Marine Against the Fortress: How Arthur Jackson Broke Japan’s Deadliest Line on Peleliu

By U.S. Military Correspondent

PELELIU, PALAU — On the morning of September 18, 1944, the Battle of Peleliu had already become one of the bloodiest miscalculations of the Pacific War. What U.S. commanders expected to be a four-day operation was rapidly turning into a brutal siege of coral, concrete, and fire. Japanese defenses, buried deep into the island’s ridges, were cutting down Marines at an appalling rate.

Pinned down under relentless machine-gun fire, a Marine platoon on the southern peninsula faced a problem with no obvious solution. Twelve reinforced Japanese pillboxes—each built into jagged coral and linked by tunnels—controlled the ground ahead. Tanks could not reach them. Artillery risked killing Americans as well as the enemy. Every frontal assault had ended the same way: bodies piling up in front of concrete walls.

At 19 years old, Private First Class Arthur J. Jackson understood what that meant. If nothing changed, more Marines would die where they lay.

So Jackson stood up, shouldered his Browning Automatic Rifle, and ran straight at the fortress.

A Battle Built to Kill

The Japanese defenders on Peleliu had abandoned the suicidal banzai charges seen earlier in the war. Under Colonel Kunio Nakagawa, they adopted a new doctrine: let the Americans come, then destroy them from prepared positions. Pillboxes with walls three feet thick covered one another with interlocking fire. Tunnels allowed defenders to reposition or counterattack unseen.

By September 18, the 1st Marine Regiment had already suffered roughly 70 percent casualties. Jackson’s unit, part of the 7th Marines, was ordered to clear the southern sector blocking the advance toward the airfield.

The largest pillbox dominated the terrain. Any Marine who moved was cut down. Someone had to cross 150 yards of open coral under direct machine-gun fire—an almost certain death sentence.

Jackson did not wait for orders.

The First Assault

Armed with his BAR and pockets stuffed with grenades, Jackson sprinted across the open ground. Japanese gunners saw him instantly and opened fire. Bullets snapped past his head, kicking up coral dust around his boots.

Jackson fired back on the move, not to penetrate the concrete but to force the gunners to duck. Magazine empty, he ducked behind cover, reloaded, and ran again. At close range, the geometry of the pillbox worked against its defenders. The firing slits could not reach the blind spot beside the wall.

Jackson reached it alive.

He shoved white phosphorus grenades through the firing slit. The effect was immediate and horrifying. Burning Japanese soldiers staggered out, screaming, their ammunition cooking off. Jackson shot them as they emerged. Then he pushed a satchel charge of plastic explosive into the opening and ran.

The blast lifted the pillbox off its foundation. When the smoke cleared, 35 Japanese soldiers were dead—and the strongest position on the line was gone.

Jackson did not turn back.

One Pillbox After Another

With no pause, Jackson moved to the next bunker, then the next. He used terrain, blind spots, and whatever weapons he had left. When grenades ran out, he fired his BAR down ventilation shafts. When his rifle overheated and jammed, he cleared it and kept going.

By the time Marines around him realized what was happening, Jackson had already destroyed multiple positions. His assault broke the Japanese defensive rhythm. Marines began moving forward behind him, exploiting the gaps he created.

The Japanese responded with a counterattack—40 soldiers advancing through the coral to kill the lone Marine who was unraveling their line. Jackson, now joined by a handful of Marines, met them head-on. Carefully rationing ammunition, he fired controlled bursts while riflemen around him added their fire.

When the counterattack stalled, more Marines surged in behind the Japanese force. Caught in a deadly crossfire, the counterattack collapsed within minutes.

The southern perimeter was breaking.

Wounded, But Still Advancing

By late morning, Jackson had destroyed nine pillboxes and killed dozens of enemy soldiers. He had been wounded, bleeding heavily from the leg, but refused evacuation. He tore cloth from his trousers to slow the bleeding and kept moving south.

Three pillboxes remained.

With Marines now following his lead, Jackson helped organize the final assault on a heavily defended triangle of bunkers. Under intense fire and extreme heat, the Marines charged. Grenades, satchel charges, and point-blank rifle fire silenced the positions one by one.

The last pillbox fell shortly after 9:30 a.m. A flamethrower finished it, while Jackson—barely able to stand—provided covering fire.

In roughly 90 minutes, Arthur Jackson had destroyed all 12 pillboxes on the southern peninsula and killed approximately 50 Japanese soldiers. He had single-handedly shattered a defensive system designed to withstand company-level assaults.

Recognition and a Quiet Life

Jackson survived his wounds and returned to combat just days later. His actions spread quickly through the division and up the chain of command. By the time Peleliu was declared secure in November, his name had reached the desk of Admiral Chester Nimitz.

On October 5, 1945, President Harry S. Truman awarded Arthur J. Jackson the Medal of Honor at the White House. The citation described “conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty.”

Then Jackson went home.

He returned to the Pacific Northwest, married, raised a family, and worked for decades as a postal carrier. Neighbors knew him as a quiet man with a slight limp. Few knew what he had done on Peleliu.

He continued serving in the reserves, eventually retiring as a captain after nearly 40 years in uniform. For decades, he rarely spoke about the battle.

Only later in life did Jackson begin sharing his story—with students, Marines, and fellow veterans. He spoke not of glory, but of cost: the men who did not come home, and the weight of survival.

A Legacy That Endures

Arthur J. Jackson died in 2017 at the age of 92. He was the last surviving Medal of Honor recipient from the Battle of Peleliu. At his burial, Marine Corps body bearers carried his remains with full military honors.

On September 18, 1944, Japanese engineers had built a fortress meant to stop any advance. They believed no single man could break it.

They were wrong.

In one of the most extraordinary feats of individual combat in American military history, a 19-year-old Marine proved that courage, determination, and sacrifice could shatter even the strongest defenses—and change the course of a battle in less than two hours.