David I. Garrett, Jr. 31st "Dixie" Division
Maffin Bay, New Guinea July, 1944
Leaving Oro Bay in convoy with other ships and landing craft carrying other units and personnel, we moved up the northwest coast for some three days. The trip up to Maffin Bay was by way of LSI's (Landing Ship Infantry), which we boarded on the beach near Buna. As I was wading out into the surf to go up the boarding ladder, someone behind me yelled out "Sonny ….. Sonny Garrett!" That had to be somebody from home. I turned around and there stood Jack Masur, the first man I had seen from Monroe. He had on a bathing suit made from an old G.I. towel and was sunburned dark brown. We were able to visit for a few minutes before I boarded. He had been stationed farther up the coast, had seen Bobby Oliver and was now temporarily at Oro Bay with the Quartermasters. We embarked for Maffin Bay, in what was then Dutch New Guinea.Reaching Maffin Bay without incident, we made a dry landing and set up our Regimental Base Camp in a cleared area some distance back from the beach. Things were very primitive at first, but in due course we received tents and folding cots and bettered or position.
The beach at this point was clean, perhaps fifty yards in depth, and terminated in a sharp rise of about six feet to a level clearing between the beach and the jungle. Mud was a problem. Logs cut and placed in the road for footing simply disappeared. We finally overcame the mud and developed a fairly decent base camp.
We were located just east of the mouth of a small stream, which ran down from some point inland to the ocean. This area was fairly secure, and I do not recall encountering any Japs east of this stream. West of this stream lay an old Japanese airstrip, running parallel to the beach and lying between the jungle and the beach, and such enemy troops and supplies as remained in the area were on this side of the stream.
Just across this stream, on the west side, we established a static line of defense, consisting of a long line of "pillboxes", dug into the high bank of the stream, some one hundred yards away. These were constructed by digging rectangular holes in the backside of the high bank and roofing these over with logs, branches and dirt, with observation and firing openings about one foot high across the front. At one point the Jungle Platoon manned the last five pillboxes on the "dead end" of the line at night for some thirty days and ran patrols off and on during the daytime.
We ran regular patrols out into the area still held by the Japanese, some of which were mostly routine, to keep up with any new developments. Three of our patrols are worth mentioning. Our first patrol on which we came under fire began as a routine exploratory sweep through the edge of the jungle along the inland side of the old airstrip. We had had some rain earlier and the grass in the clearings, about five to six inches high, was still wet. As we came into one clearing, we picked up some footprints in the wet grass in which the grass was still rising. Whoever made those footprints was not far ahead!
Rounding a corner in the trail we had been following, we saw another clearing ahead and came to a vine tied across the trail. On patrol, you normally put two scouts out ahead and the rest of the patrol is close behind. I always took my place right behind the scouts. You can't lead from the rear. The vine alerted me and when I next looked up, the scouts were not there. I signaled those in the rear and hit the ground.
Just as I hit the ground, the dirt exploded in front of me. We had walked right into an ambush. A machine gun, dug in at the base of a tree, was firing at us point blank from about fifty yards. As I went down, I saw a log to my right, just off the trail, and I rolled over behind it. That Japanese machine gunner had us thoroughly pinned down and he ate up the top of that log for thirty minutes before he had to reload.
When he did stop to reload, I and a couple of others dropped over into a shallow swale to our right, flanked him and managed to take him out with grenades. No casualties were incurred and we completed our patrol and returned by way of the beach without further incident. The other two well-remembered patrols were connected, the third growing out of the second.
Some while after the patrol described above, we were again scouting out the jungle and terrain just inland from the airstrip when we found a small thatched roof hut, apparently used for shelter by the Japanese, and a larger one, built in a small clearing, which was filled with equipment and supplies of all sorts, ordnance, medical and miscellaneous items. All of this seemed to be in first class condition, indicating that it had not been abandoned. After briefly checking out the contents of this hut, we pulled out, completed our patrol and returned to headquarters to report our findings.
On receiving our report, the Intelligence Section, very interested in our discovery, came up from somewhere with a couple of junior-grade lieutenants from the Navy, purported to be ordnance experts, and asked if we could take them back out to that storage site the next day. I pointed out that we only knew one way to get back to the site and would run a pretty good chance of being detected and possibly encountering trouble, but that we would try.
The next day the Navy "experts" came in and we got ready to go. Since we were going into the area, we were given two additional missions, one to disarm a booby trap under a small wooden bridge, a one hundred pound aerial bomb set to blow when a vehicle rolled over the bridge, and the other to check out a reported listening post between the airstrip and the beach. Our boat was loaded.
The booby-trapped bridge was more or less on the way to the supply dump, so I decided to take it on first. This was a short wooden bridge over a small streambed, along a little used road in the vicinity of the airstrip. A plank in one of the runners at the far end had been removed, a large hole dug in the ground underneath and the bomb placed in the hole, nose and fuse up. The plank had then been replaced, concealing the bomb, and a vehicle rolling over the plank would have exploded the bomb.
We removed the plank, exposing the bomb, and one of the Navy ordnance men and I sat on either side of the bomb, with our legs in the hole. The large conical fuse, about five inches in diameter at its base, was brass, with all sorts of Japanese symbols and characters on it. When I asked him how we were to go about getting the fuse out and thus disarming the bomb, he said he had never seen one before! This was not much help.
The bomb appeared to be the same as on shown in the movie Destination Tokyo, in a scene where an unexploded bomb lodged in the deck of a submarine. In the movie, the decision was whether to unscrew the fuse clockwise or counterclockwise, to avoid setting it off. While this may not seem much authority, we had nothing else. I decided to try unscrewing it counterclockwise. Holding it with my handkerchief to get a good grip, I unscrewed the fuse and removed it.My Navy companion then got all enthused about taking the fuse apart, but I told him to by no means try to handle it in any way, but to throw it as far as he could into the brush and get rid of it. He did and it went off like a hand grenade. The Navy did not argue with any of my decisions after that and we continued our mission to the supply dump.
Making our way through to the supply dump, we paused short of the clearing to look and listen for any activity in the vicinity of the hut. I went forward to have a look and saw no movement and heard nothing. The path across the clearing led through grass about knee high and I signaled the patrol to hold up and cover me while I walked the path to the hut.
Crossing the clearing, I passed a wooden box to the side of the trail. This box had been there yesterday, but today a small abacus lay on top of it. We had company! I picked up the abacus and put it in the pocket of my coveralls. Being out in the open, I could see that it was not a booby trap.
Moving on in to the hut without incident, I signaled the patrol to come on in, but told the Navy officers not to tarry, because we were probably being watched. I spread my men out around the area to protect against any surprise attack from the residents. The ordnance men went to work checking out the supply dump.
Before they really had satisfied all of their curiosity, a few shots broke out outside and I got them out, signaled the patrol and we headed for the beach, before we incurred any casualties. We made it without further incident and proceeded to the area where the listening post had been reported.
The listening post was located on the high bank between the airstrip and the beach, and consisted of a couple of open-sided, thatched roof huts. We watched a while for signs of life, but whoever was occupying them had taken off when we approached.
In one of these we found a large brass plotting table, obviously long since out of use, but probably used for plotting positions on maps and charts, along with some writing and mapping materials and chart paper. The other appeared to serve as living quarters for two or three people, with cots, rustic chairs and tables and some personal items scattered about. These huts and the listening post were occupied, but we found nothing of any real intelligence value and saw nothing that indicated any possible danger to our position. Our position far down the beach could be observed to a degree, but these two or three Japs, probably left behind long ago, offered no problem to us.
As we went through the living quarters, I spotted a couple of cases of tall green bottles packed in straw. Here was my chance to take back some saki, Japanese wine. I stuck a bottle inside my coveralls as we left, we headed back for headquarters by way of the beach and arrived in due course, without ever encountering the occupants of the listening post.
While we were waiting outside of headquarters for de-briefing, hot and exhausted from our patrol, I decided to try the saki. I took the cork out, took a good mouthful and spit it ten feet! A Japanese interpreter was nearby and I asked him to read the fancy label on the bottle. He read the label, grinned and replied "mosquito repellant"!
The heat and humidity in New Guinea produced a really bothersome form of dermatitis, dubbed "jungle rot" in GI parlance. Enough of it could be disabling. In late August or early September, I wound up in the field hospital, located on the beach, stretched out on a cot letting the air get to my skin, the only thing that seemed to do any good. My main concern was the fact that we were scheduled to go into Morotai, in the Netherlands East Indies, and they would not let me out to go back to my unit. While there, I made a couple of good friends among my fellow patients, one being Chaplain Loutit, an Episcopal Chaplain, who had my same problem, and the other Captain P.E. Long, commanding the 31st Cavalry Recon Troop.
Late one afternoon, I looked out towards the beach and saw a man wading out into the surf, apparently not in control of his senses. I jumped off my cot and ran down the beach to try to head him off, but he got out into deeper water before I could reach him. I swam out, pulled him in and the orderlies took him over. To make a long story short, the hospital authorities decided I might be fit for duty after all and discharged me. Interestingly enough, this incident was reported by one of the wire services back home and made the papers under the by-line "Garrett Proves He's Still Able".
When I reported back to Regimental Headquarters, bad news greeted me. Having been told I was not coming back for duty, and being the only officer for the Jungle Platoon, my unit had been dissolved, the men sent back to their original units and I was about to be reassigned. I needed to find a home fast! We were just a few days away from the Morotai operation.
I contacted Captain Long, who had gone back to the Recon Troop, and asked him if he had a spot for me. He said he did have a spot, would really like to have me and started the wheels rolling to get me transferred. He stood in good with the Division G-2, a former commander of the Recon Troop, and I was soon a Trooper.
From the day I reported to the Recon Troop, I knew I was in the right place, and was well received. The Morotai invasion was set and I had a lot to learn about our role and my particular job in the operation. Also, as best the time allowed, I had to get to know my men and they had to get to know me.
Our role in the invasion was to spearhead the amphibious landing, going in in Amphibious Tanks some one-half hour ahead of the first assault wave, establish a foothold and work our way through to and secure Pitoe Airstrip. D-Day for Morotai was September 15, 1944, and a few days ahead of time we loaded on LST's (Landing ShipTanks) and prepared to form up the convoy.
Preamble | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11
