Cape Glouster
The Cape Glouster campaign had a deeply demoralizing
effect on the twenty thousand Marine force sent against a much smaller
enemy force putting up minimal resistance generally with a few fierce
fire fights such as 'Hill 660' and battle of 'Suicide Creek', but as
a whole it was a retreating situation with Marines following to overtake
a fleeing force. On the far end of this island Rabaul had thousands
of troops waiting for invasion. This was not a 'back to the wall' defense
fight for the Japanese and understandably many thought to try to join
up with the mass of troops at Rabaul and live to fight another day.
Heavy monsoon type rains began to drench the already
swampy beach area and wheeled vehicles had to be towed out of mud by
tracked tanks and bulldozers, while infantry folks had to live and fight
in a muddy morass.
The miserably humid, wet conditions revived many dormant
cases of malaria, which had been subdued in Australians climate. Pursuing
the retreating Japanese troops led the Marines into a thickly forested
elevation where huge trees began to be a new threat. Ongoing rains with
swollen creek runoffs began to loosen tree roots and high winds pushed
hundred foot trees over which crushed about twenty Marines to an ignominious
useless death.
MacArthur wasted the prime fighting trim of a powerful
invasion force, which should have been saved for major encounters like
Iwo Jima and Okinawa. As it happened he depleted the unit in miserable
fashion amid a tropical backwash of dubious import.
As the fighting sputtered down to a stop we established
a 'permanent' camp near a beach on high ground away from the fetid jungle
morass. Our tent row faced an abandoned Japanese air field of grass
and dirt and one day the monotony was broken a bit by us being notified
that a disabled fighter plane was to use the grass strip for an emergency
landing. We were advised to stay clear of the area. Naturally we all
lined up by the field to watch the show and soon a Curtis P40 came around
the point and did a low, slow flyby to inspect his landing field. Back
out over the water he turned toward land, lined up with the strip and
lowered his flaps...but no wheels!
We watched enthralled as the plane glided slowly in
over coastal telephone lines and touched ground just beyond to begin
rocking and sliding along about ninety miles an hour. It dragged to
a rocking stop just in front of us and we were all impressed at the
pilot skill demonstrated and I think some of us cheered.
When the dust settled we ran out to check on the man
and he climbed out waving at us and walked casually around front to
inspect the damage to his prop and cowling. He lit a cigarette and sauntered
off to a jeep sent to retrieve him. Evidently he was not at all impressed
with his performance, just a S.O.P. belly landing, nothing unusual.
To us 'earthlings' about to form webbed feet it was
an amazing sight but to him just routine. About this point in time a
few Japanese pilots came over from Rabaul, looking for targets and one
day our little artillery spotter cub was out sightseeing, supposedly
looking for enemy troops fleeing among the hills. A Japanese Zero happened
along and saw the easy target ambling along among the hills and he dove
for a quick easy kill. The cub pilot looked up just in time to avoid
the burst of machine gun fire and dove deeper into the hills for cover.
As the Zero made a long banking turn for another pass the cub pilot
noticed a dead end canyon and turned into it for cover.
The pilot of the unarmed, slow and helpless little
plane had frightening misgivings about the outcome of this encounter
and then as a last resort he decided to at least try to come out of
this situation. He made a high wing, teasing turn to invite his enemy
down into the valley in fast pursuit. The Zero pilot took the bait and
roared down for a quick kill closing fast.
The cub flew toward the cul-de-sac and at the last
minute pulled up abruptly and the powerful fighter plane on his tail
couldn't duplicate that maneuver and struck the ridge line.
Circling the pall of black smoke curling up the pilot
did some loud rebel yells mixed with Indian war whoops and fire walled
the little plane heading for home. There he excitedly told of his "kill"
and quickly painted a Japanese flag on the cowling indicating his 'score'.
He said he only needed four more to be the wars only 'ace' flying a
ninety horsepower kite!
Eventually the rains ceased and the enemy had mostly
all gone, one way or another, and we settled down to the normal tedium
of tropical camp life.
This end of New Britain had an active volcano and
as the clouds cleared we could see it on a mountain peak with smoke
curling out of the cone. This prompted many debates about the eminence
of an eruption zapping us innocents camped below.
Former eruptive activity had formed nice black sand
beaches all along our shore and we enjoyed swimming and basking in the
sun just like regular tourist anywhere.
In April of 1944 we were replaced by Army defense
troops and we boarded ships to sail happily away from this backwater
low point of our lives. In a few days we anchored offshore at Pavuvu
in the Russell Islands where the main body of the First Marine Division
disembarked to unimagined miserable conditions.
The long suffering First had been removed from a bog
to a swamp which was actually worse than the Cape Glouster area in the
humid, feceloid and dank jungle. Morale was at low ebb for these men
who actually thought they might be sent stateside or back to Australia.
Recurring cases of malaria prostrated many and work
parties of highly trained fighting men spent long days gathering to
burn rotting coconut shells that incubated mosquitoes in putrid water.
The morale situation became so bad that having no hope of a future some
Marines chose suicide as an escape. When a rifle crack was heard others
would say, "Wonder who it was this time?"
Entertainer Bob Hope heard about the pathetic situation
over at Pavuvu and redirected his troop from Guadalcanal to go over
to try to cheer the long suffering men over there. Flying in single
passenger cubs over sixty miles of open sea the troop came over one
at a time and landed on a coral paved road which served as the only
airstrip in that horrible place.
We all thought that the Marine Corps psychology was
to keep us all fighting mad for us to do the job appointed and evidently
Pavuvu was in preparation for Peleliu's ordeal.
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Part 3 | Part 4 |
Part 5 | Part 6 | Part
7 | Part 8 | Part
9 | Part 10
