It is arguably the most famous photograph ever taken. You know the one. Six men, muscles strained, hoisting a heavy pipe with a massive American flag attached to it atop a jagged, volcanic peak. The image is everywhere—stamps, monuments, posters, and history books. It’s the Iwo Jima picture flag shot, captured by Joe Rosenthal on February 23, 1945. But here’s the thing: most people think they’re looking at the moment the battle was won. They aren’t.
They also think they know who’s in the photo. For decades, the Marine Corps didn't even have the names right.
History is messy. It’s rarely as clean as a black-and-white frame suggests. When Rosenthal clicked his shutter on Mount Suribachi, he wasn't trying to create an icon. He almost missed the shot entirely while talking to another photographer. He didn't even look through the viewfinder. He just pointed and hoped. What resulted was a masterpiece of composition that looked so perfect, people immediately accused him of staging it. He didn’t stage it, but the story behind that flag is way more complicated than the "heroic victory" narrative we’ve been fed since elementary school.
The First Flag vs. The Famous One
Most people don't realize there were actually two flags. The Iwo Jima picture flag everyone recognizes was the second one to go up that day.
Early in the morning, a smaller flag was raised. That first raising was the one that actually mattered to the guys on the ground. When the troops saw that first bit of color hit the sky, the whole island erupted. Ships offshore honked their whistles. Men in the foxholes cheered. It was a massive morale boost because, up until that point, Mount Suribachi was a nightmare of sniper fire and mortar rounds.
So why the second flag?
Basically, it came down to politics and souvenirs. Colonel Chandler Johnson, the battalion commander, allegedly wanted the first flag for himself (or at least wanted it protected as a battalion relic). He supposedly said, "Some son of a bitch is going to want that flag, but he isn’t going to get it. That’s our flag." He ordered a second, much larger flag to be sent up—one big enough that "every son of a bitch on this whole cruddy island can see it."
The second group of Marines went up with the bigger flag, and that’s when Rosenthal happened to be standing there. The "famous" photo is actually a photo of a replacement. It’s a bit of a letdown when you first hear it, right? But it doesn't change the fact that the men in that second photo were still in a live combat zone.
The brutal reality of the island
Iwo Jima wasn't over when the flag went up. Not even close. We see the photo and think "Victory!" but the battle raged on for 31 more days. It was a slaughterhouse.
The Japanese defenders, led by General Tadamichi Kuribayashi, had changed their tactics. They didn't charge the beaches. They hid in 11 miles of tunnels. They waited. By the time the Iwo Jima picture flag was raised, the U.S. had already suffered thousands of casualties, and thousands more were coming. In fact, three of the six men in that famous photo—Franklin Sousley, Harlon Block, and Michael Strank—were killed in action on the island just days or weeks after the picture was taken.
They never saw the impact their image had back home. They died in the volcanic ash, just more names in a mounting list of dead.
The Identity Crisis: Who Was Actually There?
This is where the story gets really weird and honestly, a bit frustrating. For over 70 years, the official record of who was in the Iwo Jima picture flag photo was wrong.
The Marine Corps is an institution built on tradition and accuracy, yet they misidentified the men in the most important photo in their history. Twice.
For a long time, John Bradley (the father of James Bradley, who wrote Flags of Our Fathers) was considered one of the primary figures. It turns out, he wasn't in the photo. He was involved in the first flag raising, but not the one Rosenthal captured. It took a group of amateur historians—people obsessed with the strap of a helmet or the cuff of a sleeve—to prove the Corps was wrong.
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- Harlon Block: Initially, the man at the base of the pole was identified as Hank Hansen. Block’s mother insisted it was her son. She knew his backside, she said. Nobody believed her until Ira Hayes, another man in the photo, walked miles to tell the truth.
- Harold Schultz: In 2016, the Marines admitted that Harold Schultz was in the photo, not John Bradley. Schultz knew he was in the photo his whole life. He just never told anyone. He lived a quiet life as a postal worker and took the secret to his grave.
- Harold "Pie" Keller: In 2019, another correction. The man previously thought to be Rene Gagnon was actually Harold Keller.
Imagine being in the most famous photo in history and just... not mentioning it. That's a level of humility we can barely wrap our heads around today. Schultz and Keller didn't want the fame. They saw what the "fame" did to the others—the bond tours, the relentless public pressure, the alcoholism that claimed Ira Hayes. They chose silence.
Why This Image Caught Fire Back Home
You have to understand the state of the U.S. in 1945. The country was exhausted. The war in Europe was winding down, but the Pacific was becoming a bloodbath. The casualty counts from Iwo Jima were horrifying—nearly 7,000 Americans dead.
When the Iwo Jima picture flag hit the front pages of Sunday newspapers on February 25, it was electric. It reached the U.S. only 17 hours after it was taken, which was a technological miracle at the time.
It looked like a Renaissance painting. The way the men are leaning forward, the diagonal line of the flagpole cutting through the frame, the wind whipping the stars and stripes. It didn't look like a snapshot; it looked like an affirmation of destiny.
President Roosevelt saw the power in it immediately. He ordered the surviving flag-raisers back to the States for a Seventh War Loan drive. They were treated like movie stars, but they felt like frauds. They knew the real heroes were the ones who stayed on the island in body bags. Ira Hayes hated it. He hated being called a hero for "raising a pole" when his friends were blown to bits.
The "Staged" Myth That Won't Die
If you spend five minutes on a history forum, someone will inevitably claim the Iwo Jima picture flag was staged.
This rumor started almost immediately because of a misunderstanding. After the flag raising, Rosenthal gathered the Marines for a "gung-ho" shot—a group of them cheering and waving their rifles in front of the flag.
Later, when someone asked Rosenthal if he had posed the picture, he thought they meant the "gung-ho" shot and said "Sure." He didn't realize they were talking about the flag-raising itself. By the time he clarified, the "fake" narrative had taken root.
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Bill Genaust, a combat cameraman, was standing right next to Rosenthal. He filmed the whole thing on color movie film. If you watch the footage, it’s clear as day: it was a spontaneous, messy, physical struggle to get that heavy pole into the ground. No posing. Just luck and timing.
The Flag Today: A Relic of Ash and Blood
The actual Iwo Jima picture flag—the second one—is still around. It’s housed at the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia.
If you see it in person, it’s haunting. It’s huge. It’s also damaged. People think the "tatters" at the end of the flag are from the wind on Mount Suribachi. Actually, a lot of that damage came from "souvenir hunters" who snipped off pieces of the flag before it was sent back to the States.
It’s a reminder that humans have a desperate need to touch history, even if they destroy it in the process.
How to Respect the History
If you’re researching the Iwo Jima picture flag for a project, or just because you’re a history buff, here is how you should actually look at it:
- Look past the flag. Look at the boots. The men are covered in volcanic grit. That sand was like ground glass; it fouled their weapons and tore their skin.
- Remember the timeline. The flag went up on Day 4. The battle lasted 36 days. The majority of the dying happened after the photo was taken.
- Acknowledge the fog of war. Don't be too hard on the Marine Corps for getting the names wrong. In the chaos of 1945, with men moving between units and dying in droves, keeping track of who was in a grainy photo wasn't the priority. Survival was.
Actionable Steps for the Curious
If you want to go deeper than a Wikipedia summary, do these three things:
- Watch the Genaust Footage: Search for the color film of the raising. It’s only a few seconds long, but it completely dispels the "staged" myth and shows the sheer physical effort involved.
- Read the 2016/2019 Marine Corps Reports: These are fascinating documents. They show the forensic process—comparing the buttons on a jacket or the height of a rifle sling—to correctly identify Harold Schultz and Harold Keller. It’s a masterclass in historical detective work.
- Visit the Memorial, but look at the names: The Marine Corps War Memorial in Arlington is based on the photo. But don't just look at the statues. Walk the perimeter and read the names of the campaigns. Iwo Jima was just one of many, but it became the symbol because of one lucky click of a camera.
The Iwo Jima picture flag isn't just a photo. It’s a Rorschach test for how we view war. For some, it’s pure patriotism. For others, it’s a reminder of the staggering cost of a small patch of island. To the men who were there, it was just a job they had to do before they went back to the real work of staying alive.