 Our baptism of fire came in 1776, when New York volunteers took up arms to forge a new nation. In 1861, at Gettysburg and Appomattox, New York militia struggled to unite the nation. Through the Spanish-American War, the Mexican border, and World War I, when we cracked a Hindenburg line, the 27th made history. Then came peace. The citizen soldiers of the 27th continued to train. In the 30s, a shadow crossed the world. President Roosevelt on October 15, 1940, called the 27th to active duty and a new generation answered. Our first selectees reported to Fort McClellan, Alabama to receive basic training. Then maneuvers, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Louisiana, training for the real thing. And even as we prepared to defend our way of life, we moved to Fort Ord, California. Took on replacements and new equipment, preparing to ship out. Under way, we first began to know the feeling of war. Stop was the Hawaiian Islands. While GIs were dug in at Baton, we trained all over again, grew hard and tough. Orders came through for the drive across the Central Pacific. Our objective, makin'. On November 20, 1943, our first battle began. The opening round was fought by the Fighting 69th Regiment. The beach was rocky, the rockiest we would ever hit. Our objective was to cut the coral atoll in half. Women following on foot, and engineers blasting pillboxes. We became an unbeatable team. We found more than one enemy on makin'. There was the stifling heat. There were tank traps. And there was the night. Under its cover, the Jap Imperial Marines, fired upon Saki, made their last desperate attack. After three days of battle, the report was flashed back, makin' takin'. Events moved fast. The Jap main base was a truck. If we seized Anywetok, a small island to the northwest, our bombers could blast the Jap base. And cut off supplies to the marshals. Navy's famous Task Force 58 pounded truck. On February 19, 1944, the 106th Infantry Regiment landed on Anywetok. Yellow Beach looked easy. It was flat and straight away. There were no rocky reefs like makin'. But this time we weren't fooled. Some were up ahead. We knew the Jap was waiting. We traded shell for shell. Palm trees offered good concealment, but we lacked observation for our mortars. In terrain like this, grenades supplied the answer. Jap was far from finished. In plenty of time, he'd set up mortars in the open. Our air corps went into action. They went underground into trenches hidden by palm fronds. Anks flushed them out. At night, the Japs infiltrated our lines. But by day, they didn't have a chance. We clipped them in the open, burned them out of shacks, rooted them out of foxholes. Their wounded were treated by our medics. Months of rehearsing were telescoped into four days of combat. State-side training was paying off. The Atul went up in flame. The 23rd of February marked our second victory. Our third objective was Saipan in the Marianas. An island shaped like a pistol. Everything was down to a formula. The Navy and air corps softening them up. Then, on the night of June 15, 1944, our third campaign began. The big one. No one spoke. Every man was tense, but ready. At the beach, we regrouped and prepared to move in again. This time, the whole gang was in on it. The 105th, 106th, and the 165th regiments. Artillery, signal corps, ordnance, everyone. Holding reserves, they called us. We floated all right into Saipan across fields of sugar cane. Our tanks rolled ahead, and by morning, we had taken over from the Marines. Our job was to take a Slito airfield on southern Saipan. It was heavily defended by pillboxes on a sloping ridge. On June 18, we grabbed a Slito airfield, what was left of it, and named it Conroy Field after the CO of the 165th Infantry Regiment who lost his life at Macon. From there, we struck in a two-pronged attack, north to Magician Bay, and east to Nafutan. For a while, the Japs fought savagely, and for the first time pushed us back. But we rallied and poured it on. Here's bazookas, tanks, artillery. We hit them with everything we had. Our commanding general, Ralph Smith, and Chief of Staff, Colonel Stebbins, worked tirelessly directing the operation. Our losses were heavy, but Nafutan Point fell. Determined to finish the Japs, we drove on in the boiling sun. Back after attack, they couldn't stop us now. Past Purpleheart Ridge, hills King and Abel, through Death Valley. Northward, we climbed the Tannapag, the great Jap naval base, with our objective, Marpe Point, at the northern tip of the island. We encountered everything. Tanks, machine guns, pillboxes, and always that baking sun. Across Hill 700, we climbed. On the road to Tannapag, Betcheck Charlie paid his nightly call. Hill 767 into Harakiri Gulch, where General Saito and his entire staff committed suicide. Then we turned north toward Marpe Point. For a moment, silence. Then, the vows of our buddies were massacred, thousands wounded, but we buried over 4,000 of the fanatical enemy. The Medal of Honor was awarded posthumously to Sergeant Thomas Baker and to Lieutenant Colonel William J. O'Brien, both of the 105th Infantry. Saipan, July 7, 1944, will not soon be forgotten by the 27th. 25 days after hitting Yellow Beach 2, our third campaign was over. Christmas was spent at Espirito Santo, an island in the New Hebrides Group, east of Australia. There was time for recreation and rest. Then, replacements arrived. Training started all over again. Veterans, now, we perfected our teamwork and were ready to march again. The fourth campaign was about to begin. At Ulithi Lagoon in the Mackenzie Islands was assembled the greatest fleet of warships in history. Our mission was to grab Okinawa a thousand miles to the north. Intelligence had warned us of its rugged terrain. At night, the Navy laid down a withering bombardment. But the skies were filled with flaming kamikazes. H-hour had arrived again for the 27th. We found out intelligence was right. The plumb season was on. The rain fell for days. We slogged through seas of mud. Our big job was to crash the heavily fortified Shuri Line. The Long Thoms blasted away. Howitzers went into action. 81 mortars pounded day and night. Navy corsairs dropped rocket bombs. And the flames spreading napalm. General Bradford and Colonel Sheldon observed the operation. On the doorstep of Japan, the enemy put up bitter resistance. But battle-hardened veterans of three campaigns drove them back yard by yard. The Shuri Line. Our next big objective was Machinato Airfield. Every hill was won by blood and sweat, bullets and dynamite. Tricks like this dummy tank didn't stop the 27th. Machinato Airfield. Dead Horse Gulch. Hill 78. Rotation Ridge. One after the other, Japan's defenses were overrun. Remembering Okinawa, the 27th will always think of the marching. Across mountains and streams of how we destroyed the enemy and saved the innocent. We'll remember the casualties and the nurses. Generals Griner and Stillwell and Gallup and Joe Hart and the Dancing Girls. Vivid in our memories will be not only burning shacks and flaming hills, but also operation steak and apples. And along with a job of taking prisoners, trying to prevent the fanatical japs from taking their own lives, Okinawa will be remembered by the 27th as the end of the war. But one more job remained, occupation of Japan. Arriving at Atsugi Airport on September 7th, 1945, inspection was held by General Eichelberger. Then the big news, rotation and stateside. Stateside. A magic word meaning home, peace. We had come a long way since that day we left San Francisco, February 27th, 1942. Westward 2,000 miles to Hawaii. Onward to Macon, 2,000 miles. 800 miles to any we talk. Storming onto Saipan, 1,000 miles away. 2,600 miles to Ispirito Santo. Then north again, 2,400 miles to Ulithi, Okinawa and Japan. We had traveled almost 15,000 miles. And now the guns of the 27th are still. But ever on the alert to defend their country. Under the proud banner of Orion, New York's own.