Enemy contact

The next time we finally got ignition the whole Battalion was standing on the road to Rabaul; on one side of the Henry-Reid River stood Waitavalo Plantation, on the other, Tol Plantation.  Without any warning a Jap machine-gun opened up on us. We all hit the ground pretty quick.  The bullets were cracking around our heads like thousands of whips. The reason for that is the bullets are travelling so fast that they break the sound barrier, hence the crack.  We had just experienced our first ‘baptism of fire’. 

I was shit-scared, I am not afraid to tell you.  I don’t know about the others, although I didn’t see anybody laughing.  Our Platoon made a left diversion to about 200 metres downstream and forded the swiftly flowing river, weapons held high trying our best not to be swept away.  Luckily we made it to the other side without incident.  We then advanced up a ridge called Cake Hill. 

After about two or three hundred meters the first contact was made – by me!  I heard this scarping sound at my feet. To my surprise I was standing alongside a Jap pill-box or bunker with a rifle barrel sticking out of a gun turret, with the half obscured head of a Jap behind it.  In the blink of an eye he pulled the trigger.  I could feel the muzzle blast hit my thigh and the bullet missed me.  When he saw me standing there with the Bren he must have panicked and fired too soon.  I made no such mistake and gave him a burst of about eight rounds straight into his face and then threw in a grenade for good measure.  I heard one of my mates say to me “he just took a shot at you Smithy”.  I said “yeah I know”.

Upon returning that afternoon there were three dead Japs laying flat on their backs, just outside the pill box or bunker.  For your information a pill box (in the jungle, anyway) is a big hole dug into the ground large enough to house two or three men with a series of logs cut from coconut trees slung across the top and then covered with a huge mound of earth, with three or four gun turrets for observation and firing strategically placed around it, and a crawl trench for entry and exit.  These pill boxes as they are termed, as basic as they may be, can withstand the explosive direct hit of a 25 pounder (artillery shell).  Anyway so much for the pill box let’s get back to the action.

Now the two other sections of my Platoon had advanced on ahead of us and we heard a hell of a fire fight up ahead.  The next thing we saw was two of our mates running back, each with one of his arms shot up and hanging uselessly by his side.  We never saw them again but we heard later that they had both lost an arm.  Poor buggers, what sort of future would they have?  By then it was our turn to take point again, which we did, only to find the Japs had now withdrawn. My Platoon commander, Lieutenant Mick Ferndale, told me to take up a position at the base of a slope and be ready for a counter-attack which could come at any moment.  Typical of the tropics, it was very hot, sweaty and uncomfortable. After lying down behind the Bren for about two hours I needed to have a drink badly but to do so meant taking both hands off the Bren in order to reach my water bottle on my hip.  But I knew if I did and the Japs attacked at that moment, it would have been too late.

As it turned out my vigilance soon paid off, because without any warning a big crowd of Japs came charging over the Knoll in one of their famous Banzai Charges.  I opened up on them with the Bren and with the additional supporting firepower of my mates we made what was left of them withdraw in disorder.  I will not sicken you about what happened to the Japs who fell, for any sympathy we had for them was in short supply. 

There was no more action that day and we all settled into our perimeter for the night.  Down came the rain again and we all had to lie down on the wet ground.  Where we lay everything that crept and crawled was there; mozzies, ants, spiders, worms, leeches, snakes and God only knows what else.  But the worse thing of all was to hear the rain making these funny pattering noises as it hit the ground and you would swear to God that the Japs were creeping up on you. 

Sleep was almost impossible with your imagination running away with you.  In the jungle at night you cannot see your hand in front of your face.  Every man in our section of nine had to keep watch, if such a thing was possible, in one hour shifts.  We only had one wrist watch between us which was not luminous.  You had to pick up one of the many thousands of glow worms on the ground attached to a leaf, and believe it or not if you held it very close to the face of the watch you could just barely make out the time. 

We had to tie a vine to each man where he slept and then feel your way along it to where your mate was laying, give him a bit of a shake to wake him for his turn to keep watch and risk being shot into the bargain.  You must never go to sleep on watch; if you do you are not only putting your own life at risk but all your mates’ as well.  Men have faced the firing squad for this offence.