Melissa Taylor
Ernest Ryan Baker:
An American Hero
The famous photo of the flag being raised on Iwo Jima was taken on February 23, 1945, just five days after my great grandfather celebrated his 24th birthday.
My grandmother, Janice, and her mother Elaine.
RIGHT: A letter from the United States Senate, dated April 23, 1945, was given to my great grandmother Elaine to thank her for her husbands' service and offer sympathy.
“South Carolina will be ever grateful to your husband who made this great sacrifice in order that justice, liberty, and democracy may survive throughout the world.” South Carolina Senator, Olin Johnston said in the letter. “As your Senator, I wish to express to you my sincere sympathy in your hour of sorrow.”
When you think of heroes, you probably think of Superman, Wonder Woman, or the Green Lantern. In my family, there are heroes, but not like the ones in the comic books. One hero, whom I consider to be the true Captain America, was my great grandfather, Ernest Ryan Baker.
Ernest Baker was born on February 18th 1921 and grew up in Bishopville, South Carolina. His friends say that he was friendly, and had dark curly hair, blue eyes, and a husky build. He loved to play sports and had a tennis court near his home where he would go and play tennis regularly.
Before he joined the military, Ernest drove a large gasoline truck for the Esso gas station on main street in his hometown of Bishopville, South Carolina. In high school, he was a star player on the football team and was a fast runner, which is why he was assigned to run ammunition between foxholes on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan during WWII.
Fast forward five decades later- my great grandmother Elaine passed away unexpectedly in September 1998. Her second husband, whom I have always called “Poppy,” spent the next year sorting through her things and passing on some of those things to family members. As a result, a stack of letters fell into the hands of my aunt, Janay Minton. The letters were those that were sent between my great grandfather, Ernest Baker, and my great grandmother Elaine. This got my aunt interested in learning more about who Ernest Baker was.
For over 50 years, my family did not know how he was killed but my aunt had an article published in Leatherneck magazine and was able to contact many veterans to find answers for her questions.
In 2001, my aunt Janay received a call from a man named Robert Baker, who introduced himself as a friend of my great grandfather. He told my aunt stories of my Ernest Baker, and through choked up tears, he explained to her how my great grandfather died.
Iwo Jima is a volcanic island, which made the soil hot and prevented them from digging very far down. This meant that the foxholes needed to be built up from the ground. It was March 12, 1945, and Ernest Baker was gathering rocks to stack around his foxhole when he was hit in the chest with a mortar.
His fellow marines ran to him, hoping that they could do something to help, but found that he was unrecognizable. Robert Baker said that he hoped our family could take comfort in knowing that my great grandfather did not suffer and was killed instantly.
Three weeks after his death, my great grandmother Elaine and grandmother Jan received Easter corsages, fresh flowers, and card from a local florist. Somehow, my great grandfather was able to order them before he died. At the time, they didn’t know he had been killed.
The war ended May 8th of that year, not even two months after my great grandfather’s death. It took four years for his body to be shipped back to the United States from Iwo Jima. My grandmother was eight years old when he was buried in a military cemetery in Florence, South Carolina.
This is what the foxholes on Iwo Jima looked like. The volcanic island was too hot too dig holes very deep, which meant that the foxholes had to built up from the ground.
My grandmother has always been inspired by her father.
“I am very patriotic, I love my country and I always vote,” she said. “After a successful career in retail management , I was blessed to serve my country as the Navy Exchange Retail manager in San Deigo, Yokosuka, Japan, Naples, Italy, and Oak Harbor, Washington. It was my job to make sure our sailors and family members always had their Este Lauder, Levi's and Skippy's peanut butter. The Marines at each base always adopted me and invited the family to many wonderful Marine events.”
Although my grandmother didn’t know her father very well, as he died when she was only four years old, she remembers sitting on his lap, pretending to drive the big oil truck that he drove for work.
“At times, it was hard not having a father,” my grandmother said. “but I would not trade Ernest Ryan Baker for anyone. I know that he will be there to meet me one day and take me in his arms, and I look forward to being reunited with him.”
My grandmother did not know her father very well because he died when she was only four years old, but she remembers that he had blue eyes and dark curly hair. Her uncle Roy (Ernest's brother) would often tell her that she looked just like her dad.
ABOVE: My grandma Jan when she was a little girl.
Ernest Baker signed up as a volunteer and was drafted as a marine at the
age of 23. Today, that would be considered fairly young to be fighting
in the war, but in 1945, he was called “Old Man Baker” by his fellow marines because they were all in their teens.
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During his time in the marines, he wrote letters to my great grandmother, Elaine, and their 4-year-old daughter (my grandmother) Janice.
“I know he loved me deeply as he wrote letters to my mother from his time in training until his death on Iwo Jima. He always expressed his love for me and my mother in these letters.” my Grandma Jan said. “I was able to meet one of his fellow Marines about ten years ago and this man told me how "Ernie, the Old Man", always talked about his wife and little daughter.”
He wrote to my great grandmother and told her about the wonderful things that would happen when he returned home. In a letter dated January 29, 1945, he wrote, “I haven’t forgotten the way you said you wanted our house built with the breakfast room on the side where the sun would shine in. Darling just wait until this war is over and we shall have it. I can get some money from the government and pay it back just like we pay rent now.” Sadly, he never made it home.