attached iron railroad rails. During the night
 
 these rails had been removed to permit an 
 
ammunition carrier to get through, and at one
 
 place the barricade was exposed to enemy fire. 
 
When I called for volunteers to replace the tank 
 
barrier, Sergeant Scott O'Neils stepped forward
 
 with a detail of ten men. They replaced the rails
 
 without a casualty. Sergeant O'Neil was awarded
 
 the Silver Star. No enemy tank got near the 
 
headquarters tunnel until after the surrender.
 
             By 9:00 A.M., on the day of the surrender,
 
 Jap snipers had infiltrated our beach defense lines
 
 in some force. Machine gun bullets whizzed around the 
 
tunnel entrances, adding a new note to the scream of 
 
falling shells and the blast of exploding bombs. I had
 
 often wondered what the reactions of men would be
 
 under these conditions. I had expected fear, anxiety,
 
 emotionalism in all its forms. I found nothing but
 
 matter-of-fact business. An enemy machine gunner 
 
was discovered on  a ridge, and a squad of men  
 
calmly discussed the  manner of his liquidation. A puff 
 
of dust in front of the machine gun would result in that rifleman
 
being joshed for the poor use of his rifle. When the machine
 gun was finally knocked out the riflemen paused
 
 for a cigarette.   After the scream of bombs and shells,
 
 ordinary bullets flying  around them caused little
 
 comment. As one rifleman put it, "All them Japs wear
 
 glasses--they can't see well enough to hit us."
 
           At 10:00 A.M., orders were sent to all artillery
 
 units to destroy their guns and installations by 12 Noon.
 
 There were few guns left to destroy. Most of the guns had been 
 
destroyed by