Snipers and infiltrators
Snipers were a constant menace to rear-echelon as well as front-line Marines. Once in a while a Jap sniper would be detected. On one occasion, about mid- morning, there was thought to be a sniper hanging in a tall tree a few yards from the area. Naturally everyone had to a have a shot at him. If every one who shot had made a hit, the man would have been cut in two. Truth is, he was never there at all — just some shadowy foliage that looked like a man. That is how skittery you get when the possibility of getting shot is ever present.
On another occasion an infiltrator was rumored to be in the area, so everyone was on the alert. Not to be left out of the action, the Kid took off on his own to search for the sniper. With his trusty Riesing gun he began to search the area near the beach, where there was an old Jap landing craft. As stealthy as he knew how, he approached the boat with his gun at the ready. Creeping along beside the boat's landing ramp, he peered over the edge into the small steerage cabin. He searched the cabin, looking from one side to the other. No sign of another person. He was lucky because, had he approached the boat in the manner he did and had there been an enemy there, he probably would've had his head blown off.
Being in the rear echelon is boring. After the morning's work is done there's nothing much to do besides the day's personal chores. Being of restless nature, the Kid went to the airfield thinking he might find something interesting. His fascination with flying and aviation had never been satisfied. Walking along the beach road he passed the many company areas of Marines not in the war's forefront. The communications companies, long-range artillery companies and transportation companies were all in their places, doing whatever was essential to the day's needs.
The closer he got to the airfield, the more he noticed the large number of gasoline and oil barrels that had been dispersed along the road and back into the thickets. Well camouflaged from the air, they were easily detected as they lay on the ground, their contents clearly marked in large stenciled letters. Close enough to the airfield to be quickly transported to the field, yet far enough away to prevent damaging the field in case it got bombed.
Henderson Field
The airfield itself was an amazing piece of engineering. The landing areas were covered with large sheets of interlocking metal plates that provided a smooth landing surface for the aircraft; not perfect but better than bare muddy ground. As he watched, a plane came in to land, touching down a few yards from where he was standing. As soon as it touched down the tail wheel flew off and whizzed through the air. It seemed one of the plates had sprung loose, catching the tail wheel and tearing it from the aircraft. The plates were subject to this kind of damage as they were heavily used. Nonetheless, it was an ingenious way to convert a rough jungle into a usable landing field.
Henderson Field, as it was called, was constructed by Seabees, the Navy's Construction Battalion. Coming in right behind the Marines, they earned respect for their guts and determination. Seabees worked under fire as Marines fought the Japs further inland. The airfield was rudimentary and needed a lot of upgrading before it could be used by U.S. forces. The Seabees did a great job of converting the field into a usable piece of real estate, and their efforts were a great help in securing the Solomon Islands — and shortening the war.
Night jungle
Guard duty is never pleasant. On the secondary line of defense there's always the worry of Jap infiltrators, reputed to be able to slip in and slit the throats of Marines in their bunks or foxholes. Watches were posted in the perimeters of each company's areas. As said, there is no place as dark as the jungle at night. The Kid was assigned the 2400~0400 watch, which meant he'd have to find the guard who'd relieve him of his watch. He stumbled along the trail in the blackness, unable to see hand before face. Rounding a turn in the trail, he was challenged with the usual, "Halt! Who's there?" to which he replied with the day's password. A short report of what had transpired on his watch was given, which was nothing. The Kid took his place among the trees and vines and tried to stay awake.
The eeriness of a night jungle is enough to send the bravest soul into a nervous tizzy. Normal jungle sounds are magnified into numerous alarming noises that might be footsteps sneaking toward his position. Time passes slowly as you contemplate things that could happen. Crawling among the tree roots and grass are land crabs that sound like an army of crawling enemy soldiers. The hair on back of one's neck gets a good workout, rising and falling. You have no trouble staying awake under such conditions.
The wee hours grew, asserting themselves in the movement of his wristwatch, which glowed under its leather cover. Far away the dull Thump! that was a mortar shell, from one side or the other, filtered back from the lines. Out there someone felt the fear that was akin to the Kid's own. Someone may have felt the pain of torn flesh and broken bones. He pulled himself together, trying not to think of the war's reality. He was here and he knew he was relatively safe; he also knew he had an active imagination. His watch was up, so he stumbled down the trail in the total dark of early morning and found his empty bunk, slipped under the netting and fell quickly into sleep.
War of no seasons
The war dragged on through the weeks of autumn (1942). He hadn't realized it was fall as there were no signs to indicate such. No trees turned to gold, no frost covered the ground, no chill in the air and the birds didn't fly south. The Japs were slowly being pushed back into the depth of Guadalcanal and no reinforcements had arrived. The Marines were winning! After a resounding defeat, the Jap navy had withdrawn and sea battles were no longer in evidence. Even the air raids had slowed down.
Xmas on Guadalcanal
The Army's Americal Division had arrived on Guadalcanal and was slowly taking over the reins of combat. Few Marines looked forward to the advent of Xmas as they all knew there'd be no Santa Claus. On Xmas Eve an artillery battery of 105s laid a down a barrage of fire that shook the tents and kept the troops awake half the night. Xmas Day was no different from any other day. There was no evidence of the Red Cross or the USO, nor did the Marines expect any. Letters from home were passed out to the lucky few, and no big presents arrived from home. The mess sergeant prepared what he had for dinner, which wasn't much, although he managed to make a batch of donuts for breakfast. Nor was their any turkey on the dinner menu. New Years night the 105s gave us all a good party.
After the first of the year, rumor had it that Marines would be pulling out. It was the Army's party now! Our destination was unknown — ain't it always? Finally the word came down and Marines were gradually withdrawn from the lines and sent packing. All arms and gear had to be put back aboard ship. The ammo was turned over to the Army plus anything else that could be replaced. Working parties were formed and set to work breaking down tents, packing up field gear and comm equipment. Sea bags were taken to and stored aboard ship. Finally the troops were taken to the ships that had brought them in and allowed to make their way up the cargo nets to the decks above.
The Kid, with full pack, placed his foot on the first web of the net and began to inch his way up to the deck. He felt a weakness that he did not know was there. He reached the top of the net that was attached to the ship's rail, but was winded and had to grasp the rail with what seemed to be his last ounce of strength. He was grabbed from above by the deck crew and dragged over the rail to the deck. He felt let down, almost ashamed that he had to have help to make it to the deck. He noticed that here were many more Marines who had to have the same assistance. Then he realized that the long months ashore and the diseases he and the others has endured had taken a toll. They were not the fit fighters that had come ashore some months ago. They much needed a lot of rest and rehabilitation.
A few days before loading ship, word came that they would be going to New Zealand. Most Marines did not know where or what New Zealand was. It was not too well known in the States, nor was Australia. They were told that it was friendly, inhabitants spoke English, and had plenty of beer. That was enough!
Saipan, Mariana Islands (1944) — A U.S. Marine, surrounded by corpses of three Japanese soldiers, stands next to a Japanese landing craft that was wrecked in the American assault on Saipan.
Letters from home for the lucky few. . .
Up the down staircase. . .
WWII Seabees doing what they do best
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"Navy Seabees on Guadalcanal"
Land crabs at night sound like the enemy, crawling toward one's position with knives. . .
