It is arguably the most famous photograph in history. You’ve seen it on postage stamps, in bronze at the Marine Corps War Memorial, and probably on a hundred history book covers. Six men, straining against the wind, shoving a heavy pipe into the volcanic grit of a tiny Pacific island. But the picture of flag raising on Iwo Jima is shrouded in a weird mix of genuine heroism and persistent myths that just won't die.
People think it was a "victory" photo. It wasn't.
Joe Rosenthal, the Associated Press photographer who snapped it, almost missed the shot. He was actually adjusting his position, trying to find a spot where he wouldn't get in the way of a motion picture cameraman. He didn't even look through the viewfinder. He just pointed and clicked.
That split second became the definitive image of World War II.
The First Flag vs. The Famous One
Most people don't realize there were two flags. The "real" moment, at least the first one, happened hours earlier.
Around 10:20 a.m. on February 23, 1945, a small group of Marines from the 28th Regiment, 5th Division, climbed to the top of Mount Suribachi. They hauled up a small American flag they’d taken from the USS Missoula. When they raised it, the whole island erupted. Ships offshore honked their whistles. Troops on the beaches cheered. It was a massive morale boost, but that flag was tiny.
Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal had just landed on the beach. He saw the flag and decided he wanted it as a souvenir. Colonel Chandler Johnson, the battalion commander, wasn't having it. "To hell with that," he supposedly said. He wanted the flag to stay with the battalion. He ordered a second, much larger flag to be sent up—one salvaged from a Pearl Harbor survivor, the USS Duval County—so that Forrestal could have the small one and the Marines could have a flag that could be seen from miles away.
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This is where the picture of flag raising on Iwo Jima that we all know comes into play. Rosenthal went up with the second group. By the time they were swapping the flags, the mountaintop was technically "secure," though the island itself was still a meat grinder. The second raising was a practical matter of visibility.
The Myth of the "Staged" Photo
For decades, people have whispered that the photo was a fake. That Rosenthal posed the guys.
That's a lie.
The confusion started because Rosenthal was asked if he posed the photo shortly after he sent the film to be developed. He thought the reporter was talking about a different photo—the "Gung Ho" shot where all the Marines stood around the flag and cheered. He said "sure," thinking of the group shot. By the time he realized everyone was obsessed with the action shot of the raising itself, the "staged" narrative had already taken root.
If you look at the raw footage captured by Sergeant Bill Genaust, who was standing right next to Rosenthal filming with a movie camera, you can see it's completely candid. The men are struggling. The wind is whipping. It’s a messy, kinetic moment of manual labor that happened to look like a Renaissance painting.
Who Were the Men?
This is where the history gets heartbreakingly messy. For over 70 years, the Marine Corps and the public thought they knew exactly who was in that photo. We were wrong.
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The original identification listed Harlon Block, Rene Gagnon, Mike Strank, Franklin Sousley, Harold Schultz, and Ira Hayes. But identification on a chaotic battlefield is hard. The men were covered in dust, their faces were obscured, and several of them died just days later.
In 2016, and again in 2019, the Marine Corps had to officially correct the record after amateur historians—specifically Eric Krelle and Stephen Foley—pointed out discrepancies in the uniforms.
- John Bradley, the Navy corpsman who was the subject of the book Flags of Our Fathers, wasn't actually in the famous photo. He was in the first flag-raising, but not the second.
- Harold Schultz was the man long misidentified as Bradley.
- Harold "Pie" Keller was later identified as the man previously thought to be Rene Gagnon.
Three of the men in the photo—Strank, Block, and Sousley—never made it off the island alive. They were killed in action within weeks of the shutter clicking.
The Brutal Reality of Iwo Jima
We look at the picture of flag raising on Iwo Jima as a symbol of triumph, but the battle was nowhere near over when it was taken. It was only the fifth day of a 36-day nightmare.
Iwo Jima was a volcanic rock roughly eight square miles in size. The Japanese had spent years turning it into an underground fortress with 11 miles of tunnels. They weren't fighting to win; they were fighting to die and take as many Americans with them as possible.
The casualties were staggering. Nearly 7,000 Americans died. Over 18,000 Japanese soldiers were killed—almost the entire garrison. When the flag went up, the Marines were still being picked off by snipers from caves that hadn't been cleared yet. The photo represents a moment of breath in a month of suffocating violence.
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Why This Image Endures
Art historians talk about the "Golden Ratio" and the pyramidal composition of the photo. It’s perfectly balanced. The line of the pole creates a sense of forward momentum.
But honestly? It’s the anonymity that makes it work.
You can’t see their faces clearly. They could be anyone. They represent the collective "we." It’s not a photo of a hero; it’s a photo of a team. In 1945, a war-weary America needed that. The government used the three survivors—Gagnon, Hayes, and Bradley (who they thought was in the photo at the time)—to go on a massive war bond tour. It raised billions.
Ira Hayes, a Pima Native American, hated the fame. He felt it was a dishonor to the men who actually died on the island, the ones he called the "real heroes." He struggled with alcoholism and the weight of a celebrity he never asked for, eventually dying young. His story is a stark reminder that the "glory" of the photo had a very real, very dark human cost.
Verifying the Facts for Yourself
If you want to dig deeper into the picture of flag raising on Iwo Jima, you have to look at the primary sources. Don't just take a textbook's word for it.
- The Genaust Film: Watch the 16mm color footage shot by Bill Genaust. It proves the raising was a continuous, unposed motion. Genaust, tragically, was killed in a cave on Iwo Jima nine days later; his body was never recovered.
- The 2016/2019 Marine Corps Statements: These official reports detail exactly how the misidentifications happened and who the men actually were.
- The National Archives: They hold the original 4x5 inch Speed Graphic negative.
Actionable Insights for History Buffs
If you’re researching this or visiting the memorials, keep these nuances in mind to truly appreciate the history:
- Look at the uniforms: If you’re trying to identify the men in various photos from that day, look at the leggings and gear. That’s how the historians finally figured out that John Bradley wasn't in the second photo—his gear didn't match the man in the Rosenthal shot.
- Understand the timeline: The flag raising happened on February 23. The island wasn't declared "secure" until March 26. Using the photo as a "victory" symbol is technically a misinterpretation of the tactical situation at the time.
- Visit the original flags: Both the first and second flags are preserved at the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia. Seeing the actual fabric—the second one is torn and frayed from the high winds on Suribachi—puts the scale of the moment into perspective.
- Respect the complexity: The story isn't just about a photo; it’s about the burden of representation. Research the life of Ira Hayes to understand how the "hero" narrative can sometimes be more damaging than the battle itself.
The picture of flag raising on Iwo Jima remains a masterpiece of photojournalism, not because it was a perfect record of the war's end, but because it captured the exact moment when the grit of individual men became the soul of a nation.