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Chapter Six
New Hebrides and Guadalcanal

Our American transport was a friendly ship, as becomes one with her proud record. She had carried US Marines for the initial assaults on Guadalcanal and Rendova in the Solomons. Her record appealed to us and brought back pleasant memories of that other US transport, which had taken us back to New Zealand from Fiji. But conditions on the ship were at times very trying, and it is still an unsettled issue whether the friendliness of the crew, the showers and the good food, the iced water and the pictures, made up for the almost intolerable conditions in the troop quarters. Accommodation was crowded and ventilation limited. The heat was overpowering. Few will forget the long periods of waiting immediately prior to boat drill or disembarkation practices. However, in spite of all the discomfort, the troop quarters were kept in excellent condition and all training was entered into with enthusiasm. The performance of the battalion while on board, in fact, created something of a record which was well in keeping with the tradition of the ship.

We pulled out from Nouméa on 4 September. The previous day had been spent in becoming accustomed to the ship and her rules, in practising boat drill and in arranging for cleaning fatigues, inspections and similar details of life on a troop-ship. On 5 September, our first day at sea, we commenced taking atebrine, for we were headed for a malaria zone. At 0800 hours next morning we entered Vila Harbour in the New Hebrides. No time was lost in going on with our training. The balance of the morning was spent in practising and making perfect the preliminary procedure for disembarkation and unloading. In the afternoon we had our first practice from ship to shore.

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At 1300 hours the signal was given and the men of the first wave, wearing full equipment, dashed up to their boats, climbed aboard and were lowered to the water, then, under control of the naval personnel, set off for their first landing. Just half an hour after leaving the ship the assault boats hit the beach. Ramps were dropped and the first wave, nearly two companies strong, dashed ashore. Successive waves followed rapidly at regular intervals until all personnel, except those who had remained on board in charge of vehicles or for unloading duties, were ashore. That was sufficient practice for the first day. Everyone now understood which boat, which boat division and which wave he was in. By 1630 hours everyone was once more on board.

On each of the next two days landing operations were carried out on Mélé Beach. They were both tactical schemes and involved landing as a combat team and establishing a beach-head, and both were training in preparation for a brigade scheme. This was to be put into operation the following day when the ships would be unloaded, a full brigade supply system set up and a strong beach-head developed.

The brigade exercise was very successful. The initial landing hampered by 'enemy' aircraft, was well carried out and succeeding waves came ashore with clockwork precision, and moved to their positions. Communications were set up, supply dumps established, and ship and shore unloading parties worked so well that the whole operation was carried out in record time. That night was spent on shore as the exercise did not end till 5 am. This was the first occasion that we had to take full anti-malarial precautions, not an easy task on a wet night on manoeuvres, and we believe that it was here that our first malarial casualties contracted the disease. Reloading commenced at 0700 hours and by mid-afternoon all equipment and troops were once more aboard. The next day was spent in cleaning clothes and personal equipment and resting.

At daybreak on 12 September the convoy left Vila for Guadalcanal in the Solomons. This part of our journey took just over two days. It became increasingly hot, and the trip was rather monotonous as we were now crossing the open stretch of sea between the New Hebrides and the Solomons. Preparations were made for the landing in Guadalcanal. This was to be a 'commercial' landing, and page 43not tactical, our aim being to clear the ship in the shortest possible time.

Our transport anchored off Point Cruz on the north-eastern coast of Guadalcanal at 1100 hours on 14 September, and almost before the ship had ceased moving the first boats were on their way to the beach. Six hours and ten minutes later the unloading was completed—a record performance.

That first day on Guadalcanal was an unforgettable one. As we landed we saw a derelict Japanese tank partly buried in the black sand of the beach. Higher up on the beach rusted barbed-wire and, behind that, shrapnel-scarred coconut palms told of the fighting that had taken place there. The place was redolent of war. The beach itself that morning was a scene of intense activity and apparent confusion. As each landing craft hit the beach, a swarm of men would attach themselves to it, and the human chain passed the stores up the beach where other parties seized them and conveyed them to their correct dumps. The great piles of rations, ammunition and the mixed dumps of unit equipment and stores did not suggest order to a layman's eyes, but there was order there, and if an occasional crate went to the wrong pile—well, it could be sorted out later; the main task was to get the ship cleared. Just in rear of the dumps, YMCA workers served out tea to never-diminishing queues of thirsty troops. In this part of the beach area companies had their temporary headquarters, where personal equipment could be left and from where advance parties departed with guides for the camp area.

To those who first went to the camp the four miles, in the dust and heat of Guadalcanal and weighed down with full equipment, seemed more like 14 miles. They were glad to reach their new home, even though at first sight it was not very prepossessing. The company areas had been located in deep gullies in the midst of vinetangled mahogany jungle. Only the shade was welcome. For the rest, obviously hard work was needed to make the areas habitable. Clearing commenced immediately and areas were laid out. By nightfall enough tents had arrived and been erected to house essential stores. Bed cots were set up in the open, and temporary frames of saplings made to hold the mosquito nets. Those who had been left at the beach to guard the stores bivouacked in a like manner. The evening meal was of K ration, washed down with hot tea. And so to bed.

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But before the night was quite over we experienced our first air raid. The sirens woke us at 5 am and there was a scramble for tin hats and shelter. It was a single Jap bomber over Lunga Point and well away from us, but we heard the explosion of the bombs and the noise of the heavy ack-ack guns in action. We felt that at last we were getting nearer to the scene of active operations.

We spent a few days in establishing our camp, and then commenced our life at Guadalcanal in earnest. It consisted almost entirely of stevedoring and training. The stevedoring commenced immediately and lasted till near the end of our stay, over a month later. If we did not know it before, we certainly learnt then what enormous quantities of supplies were needed to keep troops in the field. And we learnt it under the worst possible conditions—that is, climatically speaking. The occasional air raids certainly added interest to the work, especially if the ship you were working on suddenly sheered off from the shore without giving you time to get off, or if you were working in the bomb or ammunition dumps. This latter was especially intriguing at night when the imagination somehow had a freer rein.

But it was the heat that was most trying. After New Caledonia Guadalcanal was humid and enervating. It was either hot, humid and dusty, or hot, humid and muddy. There was no happy medium. Nor did the heat lessen much with the night, especially as we were then fully clothed for protection against the anopheline mosquito. However, the work was very necessary to our existence and it was made interesting by the warlike activity all round us. Still we were very glad when we finally 'signed off' in order to get ready for our own active operation. As a training ground the part of Guadalcanal where we were was excellent. It provided us with all types of country for exercises, all within easy—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say short—distance of camp. No one would call the march up Mount Austin easy. It was a very steep climb, for nearly two thirds of the way exposed to the glare of the sun, and through bush for the last and steepest bit.

Mount Austin, with its Gifu strong-point, Hospital Valley and its many deep ravines each full of the marks of war, had lots of lessons for us. We saw all kinds of Japanese and American trenches and bunkers. We saw the road that the marines had built page 45for their tanks which finally led to the capture of the feature. Later we cooperated with tanks from our own squadron in this same area in some very valuable and instructive training. The many gruesome reminders of the bloody fighting that had taken place in the area gave emphasis and added seriousness to our training. It was probably in some such country as this that we would be fighting in the near future.

In the thick bush behind Mount Austin we practised patrol work and movement by compass; we dug in on platoon and company perimeters; we defended our strong-points or attacked others; we grew more familiar with C and K rations and we learned again how important water was in the jungle; we stayed out for nights and accustomed ourselves to the jungle noises. In fact we carried out every kind of training that might be of use to us later on. From the top of the Gifu strong-point we had a splendid view of the north-eastern coast of Guadalcanal. Immediately below us were the upper reaches of the Matanikau River near the mouth of which we had landed, and where, earlier, the US Marines had fought some of their bloodiest battles. The Matanikau was another area we used for training. In the gullies on its left bank we had our jungle ranges, and there we carried out our battle practices with ball ammunition and high explosives. Further to the east along the coast we could see the remains of Japanese ships just south of Cape Esperance, where thousands of Japs had perished in a vain endeavour to relieve their hard-pressed garrison. Some miles away we could see the island of Savo, near where the Jap convoy had been engaged and destroyed. To the south, beyond the Lunga River, lay Henderson Field in the centre of the flat coastal area that had once been coconut plantations and where many of the palms still stood. About 20 miles out to sea were Florida Island and Tulagi. We were to know Florida better before we moved north.

The routine of training and working on Guadalcanal was varied in a number of ways. For instance, water was not plentiful. There was no convenient stream as at Ouenghi, so the battalion was allotted times at the washing place and the showers that the 23rd Field Company Engineers had constructed a mile away. At least twice a week each company made the trek, returning after an hour or two with haversacks full of clean clothes, and with bodies clean at least page 46under the new layer of sweat and dust collected on the march back to camp.

Air raids, too, provided a diversion. Round about the middle of each month, when the moon provided sufficient light, the Jap bombers came over. It was said that that time of the month was chosen because Tojo's son had been shot down there on the thirteenth of the month during a large raid earlier in the year, and that these were raids of vengeance. Whatever the reason for them, they certainly broke the monotony. Memorable was the occasion when two bombers were caught in the searchlights and shot down by a venturesome American night-fighter who, regardless of the bursting ack-ack shells around him, dashed in and downed them both within a few seconds. The tracer from the fighter plane and the blazing Jap planes as they crashed made a brilliant spectacle.

Other interludes were provided by frequent picture shows at the 'Regent Theatre', the 'Plaza' and other nearby screens. Then there were visits from Major Tripp and Captain Williams of the Fijian commandos and Lieutenant-Colonel Whitcombe of the US Army, who described the Solomons operations to us, and showed us samples of enemy weapons and foods, giving us their impressions of Japanese jungle tactics. We found these visits most instructive and useful. At this time we received numerous reports of the doings of the 14th Brigade on Vella Lavella, where they were engaging the Japs. Visits were paid to the casualty-clearing station to visit our friends among the first casualties in that action. The New Zealand general election also took place while we were on Guadalcanal. Captain R. S. Lawrence was chief electoral officer, and he carried out his duties efficiently and expeditiously. On 19 and 20 September every member of the battalion passed through our jungle polling-booth and duly recorded his vote.

On 12 October all training suddenly ceased and packing commenced. Crates were made, repaired or altered to suit the next move. Load tables were prepared and the plans made for an amphibious exercise. It was to be the most important we had ever carried out. It was a rehearsal of a landing on hostile territory which was to be our actual task in the near future. We did not know where our actual operation would be, but we knew that the forthcoming rehearsal was to be made as like it as possible. We were to use page 47the same type of transports and landing craft as we would use later, and the piece of coast chosen for the landing, an area on Florida Island, approximately as nearly as possible to the bit of enemy-held coast we were to hit later. By this time we had received our New Zealand pattern jungle suits and our face paint, all that was necessary to make us fully equipped.

At 6 am on 14 October the battalion, less A company, moved out of camp for the seven-mile march to Kokumbona Beach where our stores had been dumped the previous day. Because of a shortage of vessels A company was to carry out the exercise when the rest of the battalion returned a couple of days later. At 0930 hours we commenced loading the LCIs (landing craft, infantry) and APDs (army personnel destroyer), and two hours later we set off for Florida which we reached at 1300 hours. We had been given our tasks and we knew which wave we were in and just when we should hit the beach.

The battalion, with the 29th Battalion on its right, was to land in three waves. The first wave came ashore from the APDs in LCPs (landing craft, personnel), fast, small craft, each holding about one platoon of men. As soon as the beach was clear of men and boats, the LCIs grounded on the shore, the ramps were run out and the second wave went ashore. Meanwhile the LCPs had been back at their respective ships filling up with men, and by the time the LCIs were clear they were back with the third wave. No supplies were unloaded that day. The exercise was discussed, faults corrected and preparations made for the main exercise on the morrow.

At first light next morning the convoy travelled north to the place where the tactical exercise proper was to be carried out. Zero hour was 8 o'clock in the morning and the first wave hit the beach in fine style. Succeeding waves landed in order, and all except unloading parties moved inland to establish the perimeter and secure the beach-head. The stores were duly unloaded on to the beach and then transferred to a safe distance inland where dumps had been reconnoitred. At 1130 hours the 'war' was over and reloading commenced. By 1245 hours the convoy was on its way back to Guadalcanal. There was a moderate surf at Kokumbona and the unloading was not without incident and a few duckings. Our vehicles met us at the beach and by means of a shuttle service got us back to camp shortly after dark.

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In the remaining time on Guadalcanal, a period of a little over a week, there was an air of expectancy in the battalion. We knew that we were going into action within a matter of days, and that we were to make a landing on enemy-held territory, but we did not know for certain where it was to be. There were many guesses as to our destination, some wild, others remarkably accurate. Maps of the Northern Solomons were in great demand, and they were eagerly scanned for a likely objective for the battalion. That it was to be the Treasury group was probably the popular choice, as, apart from Choiseul, it was part of the Solomons nearest to the islands the Allies already held, and what made this idea more convincing, Mono Island, with Stirling Island just off-shore, was almost exactly like our practice area on Florida Island.

During this period Lieutenant-General Vandegrift sent a stirring message to all troops in the First Marine Amphibious Corps, to which we were now attached, and at the same time Brigadier Row in a message to the units under his command told us as much as he could about our forthcoming operation, including the welcome information that the RNZAF would be assisting in giving us air cover, along with American planes, and that American warships would cover our landing. Conferences were now the order of the day. Preliminary plans were made, maps and aerial photographs studied and personnel allotted to the various echelons. The bulk of the battalion, with their war equipment and most essential supplies, was to move in the first echelon which would effect the landing.

The plan, as it affected the battalion, was a simple one. We were to land on a strip of beach between the Saveke River and Cutler's Creek, just west of the village of Falamai on Mono Island. The three forward companies, A, B, and D, would push forward to the final perimeter, deal with any opposition encountered, ensure contact with the coast by the Saveke River and with the 29th Battalion on the right flank, and then consolidate. C company and the carrier platoon were to unload the stores from the landing craft and establish dumps inside the perimeter. The MT personnel and other details of Headquarters company, who would arrive later in the day on LSTs with the vehicles and heavy equipment, were to relieve the carrier platoon which would then become available for patrol work. From information received it seemed obvious that A company was likely to run into most trouble. The Japanese headquarters was page 49situated near the coast on the right bank of the Saveke River and they also had an OP on a high feature several hundred yards inland from their headquarters. Accordingly one platoon from C company was attached to A company together with a section of mortars. Another section of mortars was attached to B company, in the central position, the remaining section being held in reserve with battalion headquarters. Up to the last minute, as information came to hand, minor adjustments to the plans were made, but with no essential difference to the general scheme.

At daybreak on Monday, 25 October, C and D companies set off in the pouring rain and over roads clogged with mud for Kukum Beach to embark on the LCIs. Fortunately the weather cleared and they were able to go aboard dry. The equipment and stores which had been sent to the beach the previous day were loaded on board. A final practice at disembarking and unloading was held while the vessels were still at Kukum. Then in the evening they pulled out from the shore ready to leave in the early hours of next morning, together with the LSTs. A and B companies went aboard the APDs on the Tuesday morning. They left Kukum for the Treasuries at 1330 hours, the greater speed of the destroyers enabling them to overtake the slower vessels ahead. The battalion's first echelon, six hundred all ranks, was now all shipborne and heading for Mono Island and its first real taste of war.