World War II veteran tells his story

SUPERIOR – March 26, 2015 marked the 70th anniversary of the end of the Battle of Iwo Jima in the Pacific theater during World War II.

The five-week battle saw some of the bloodiest and fiercest fighting of the war against Japan. Almost 7,000 Americans lost their lives fighting against heavily fortified Japanese positions that were being constantly shelled by American ships of the coast of the volcanic island. One man who was on one of those ships has called Superior home for almost three decades.

Norris Grunhuvd was a gunners mate on the USS Little. While his experience during the Battle of Iwo Jima involved mostly aiding the crew that was shelling the island, it’s what happened to him after the end of the battle that makes the fact that he is alive today so remarkable. Grunhuvd is not shy about telling of his experience on the USS Little and not shy about telling about the shrapnel still in his body because of a kamikaze attack that sank the vessel.

If one were to ask him how many pieces of shrapnel remain embedded in his legs, arms and torso, the answer would come in the form of a question.

“Big pieces or little ones?”

On May 3, 1945 the USS Little was on duty supporting the Allied invasion of Okinawa when a little after 6 p.m. over a dozen kamikaze aircraft dropped out of the clouds and attacked. The first hit on the Little came on the portside. Within four minutes, three more suicide aircraft hit the Little, snapping her keel and destroying the middle section of the ship. At 7:55 p.m. the Little broke apart and sank. Of the 200 sailors on board, 62 perished while 27 suffered injuries. One of those men was Grunhuvd.

“We knocked down three or four of them before they got to us,” Grunhuvd said. “We knew something was coming in. Then all hell broke loose. They were strafing on the way in. They opened up with their machine guns. The guy right beside me was killed. He was cut right in half. And I had probably 150 to 200 pieces of shrapnel in me. Most of it is tiny little stuff. Boy did I ever get hit. They took a big piece out of my chest.”

Despite his wounds, Grunhuvd was able to not only get himself over the side and into the water but he was able to help out his fellow sailors by throwing items overboard that floated. He needed one such item as well because the shrapnel that pierced his chest also rendered his life preserver useless.

“I thought maybe I had had it,” Grunhuvd said. “I was bleeding from the mouth. My flotation belt was shot full of holes. The ship was going down fast and I didn’t have anything to keep me afloat. There were probably about a half dozen empty powder cans right in front of me. If you turned the top a quarter turn, they were waterproof so I started throwing those cans over and the guys in the water were grabbing them just as fast as they could. The last one I kept and held on to that.”

Then, the waiting started. Grunhuvd and his fellow sailors floated in the Pacific Ocean for four hours before they were rescued. And they weren’t alone.

“We saw sharks every damn day when we would sail in these big, slow circles,” Grunhuvd said. “I figured I had bought the farm. I heard only one guy holler ‘shark’ but it wasn’t a shark at all. It was just a floating helmet. I didn’t see any sharks when we were actually in the water.”

Grunhuvd said after being rescued he spent the next six weeks in various hospitals on Okinawa, the island of Tinian and a hospital ship before being transported back to the states.

He eventually settled in Superior with his family in the mid 1980s where he still resides today. As he sat at his dining room table last week recounting his experience surrounded by relics from his service and the Purple Heart he received as a result of his injuries, Grunhuvd recalled the places where he still carries shrapnel.

And while the bulk of the wreckage of the USS Little remains at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, a part of the doomed ship will always remain with Grunhuvd as a reminder of the sacrifice made by he and his fellow vets of the Second World War.