Top of the Ladder:
Marine Ops in the
Northern Solomons

Marines in
WWII
Commemorative Series

By Captain John C. Chapin
U.S. Marine Corps Reserve (Ret)

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by Captain John C. Chapin, USMCR (Ret)

Attack landings started for the men in the darkness of the early morning hours. On November 1, 1943, the troops of the 3rd Marine Division were awakened before 0400, went to General Quarters at 0500, had a tense breakfast, and then waited for the critical command, “Land the Landing Force.” All around them, the pre-invasion bombardment roared as the destroyers fired their 5-inch shells into the target areas, and spotters in aircraft helped adjust the fire.

As the sun rose on a bright, clear day, the word came at 0710 for the first LCVPs (Landing Craft, Vehicle and Personnel) to leave their transport ships and make their way to the shore, a 5,000-yard trip across Empress Augusta Bay to the beaches of an island called Bougainville.

Almost 7,500 Marines were getting into their LCVPs (along with Coast Guard crew and coxswains) for an assault on 12 color-coded beaches. Eleven of these stretched west from Cape Torokina for 8,000 yards to the Koromokina Lagoon. The 12th was on Puruata Island, just off the coast from the beaches. The six beaches on the right were assigned to Colonel George W. McHenry’s 3rd Marines and Lieutenant Colonel Alan Shapley’s 2nd Raider Regiment (minus one battalion). The five on the left and Puruata Island were the targets of Colonel Edward A. Craig’s 9th Marines and Lieutenant Colonel Fred D. Bean’s 3rd Raider Battalion.

As the men made their way to shore, 31 Marine torpedo and scout bombers, supported by fighters, flew in from their base at Munda, bombing and strafing to give the beaches a final pounding. At 0726, the first wave landed, four minutes ahead of the official H-Hour. As2 the other waves arrived, it quickly became clear that there were serious issues. A high surf was tossing the LCVPs and LCMs (Landing Craft, Medium) around, and they were landing on the wrong beaches, capsizing, and colliding with each other in the large waves. By mid-morning, 64 LCVPs and 22 LCMs were wrecks scattered across the beaches. Three of the designated beaches had to be abandoned as unusable.

Major Donald M. Schmuck, commanding a company in the 3rd Marines, later recalled how, in the “mad confusion” of the beachhead, his company landed in the middle of heavy gunfire and in another battalion’s zone on the beach of Torokina. Running his company quickly through the other battalion and the 2nd Raiders’ zone across inlets and swamps, Major Schmuck got his men to the right flank of his own battalion where they were supposed to land originally. His surprised battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Hector de Zayas, stared at the exhausted new arrivals and exclaimed, “Where have you been?” Major Schmuck pointed back to Cape Torokina and replied, “Ask the Navy!”

The other trouble came from the Japanese defenders. While the 9th Marines on the left landed without opposition, the 3rd Marines on the right faced fierce resistance, caught in a deadly crossfire of machine gun and artillery fire. One Japanese 75mm gun, positioned on Cape Torokina, was unleashing heavy enfilade fire against the incoming landing waves. It destroyed 14 boats and caused many casualties. The boat group commander’s vessel took a direct hit, causing the following waves of boats to get disorganized and confused. Machine gun and rifle fire, along with 90mm mortar bursts, rained down on the shoreline. Units landed in the wrong spots. Dense underbrush, stretching right down to the beaches, hid the defenders in their 25 bunkers and numerous rifle pits. The commanding officer of the 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines, Major Leonard M. “Spike” Mason, was wounded and had to be evacuated, but not before he yelled to his men, “Get the hell in there and fight!” Nearby, the executive officer of the 2nd Raider Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Joseph J. McCaffery, was directing an assault when he was gravely wounded. He died that night.

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In the midst of the chaos, the rigorous training of the Marines kicked in. Individuals and small teams moved in to attack the enemy, taking out bunker after bunker, dropping grenades into their vents. For an hour, the outcome was uncertain.

The intense fighting prompted a dry remark from Captain Henry Applington II, who compared “steak and eggs served on white tablecloths by waiters ... and three and a half hours and a short boat ride later ... rolling in a ditch trying to kill another person with a knife.”

The destructive fire from the 75mm cannon on Cape Torokina was finally stopped when Sergeant Robert A. Owens crept up to its bunker. Despite being wounded, he charged in and killed the gun crew along with the people inside the bunker before he was killed himself. He was awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor for this heroic action, which was vital to the landing.

Meanwhile, on Puruata Island, just off the landing beaches, the noise was deafening; a well-entrenched group of Japanese soldiers put up strong resistance against a reinforced company of the 3rd Battalion, 2nd Raiders. It was mid-afternoon on D plus one before the defenders in pillboxes, rifle pits, and trees were taken down, and some of them managed to escape to fight another day. A two-pronged sweep and mop-up operation by the raiders on D plus 2 found 29 enemy soldiers dead out of the 70 Japanese believed to have been on that small island. The raiders lost five killed and 32 wounded.

An hour after the landings on the main beaches, a traditional Marine signal was sent from shore to the command and staff still on the ships, saying, “Situation well in hand.” This success of the riflemen happened despite the ineffective pre-landing fire from the destroyers. The men in frontline combat discovered that none of the 25 enemy bunkers on the right beaches had been hit. Some of the naval bombardment started from over seven miles away, and the official Marine history summed it up: “The gunfire plan ... had accomplished nothing.”

Unloading supplies and organizing them on the chaotic beaches was a big challenge. Seabees, sailors, and Marines all4 jumped into the task, with 40 percent of the entire landing force working as the shore party. They brought 6,500 tons of supplies ashore.

At the same time, the 12th Marines were having a tough time getting their artillery pieces onto the shore and ready to fire. One battery, supporting the 2nd Raider Battalion, waded through a lagoon to find positions to shoot from. Amtracs (amphibious tractors), along with rubber boats, were used to transport the men and ammunition to the beaches. The 90mm anti-aircraft guns of the 3rd Defense Battalion were also brought ashore early to protect against expected air attacks.

The Japanese quickly reacted to the buildup of American ships. Before the first landing boats reached the shore, a large group of enemy carrier planes was heading to attack the Marines and their support ships. New Zealand and Marine fighters engaged them in the air while the supporting destroyers unleashed a flurry of antiaircraft fire, and the transports and cargo ships maneuvered to avoid being hit. Wave after wave of Japanese aircraft was repelled; 26 enemy planes were shot down.

The guys in the rifle battalions always remembered the scene. On5 one occasion, a Marine Corsair was about to take out an enemy Zeke (“Zero”) fighter perfectly lined up in his sights when a burst of fire from the Marine .50-caliber machine guns on the beach, aimed at the Zeke, ended up shooting down the American plane. One of the riflemen recalled later that the Marine pilot fell into the ocean and came up with a broken leg. “We waded out to get him. He was really upset—mostly because he missed the Jap.”

In spite of all these issues, by the end of D-Day, the assault battalions had reached their targets on the Initial Beachhead Line, 600–1,000 yards inland. However, one huge, unexpected obstacle had now become painfully clear. The maps available were almost useless, and a large, nearly impenetrable swamp, with water three to six feet deep, lay right behind the beaches, making movement inland and communication between the Marine units impossible.

The night of D-Day was just like any other for the ground troops. By 6 PM, darkness had taken over and the men all knew the rule: be in your foxhole and stay put. Anyone moving around outside was likely a Japanese soldier trying to sneak in. John A. Monks, Jr., quoted a Marine in his book, A Ribbon and a Star:

At sea, the transport and cargo ships were pulled back; there was information that enemy naval forces were on the move.

This strong reaction from the enemy, both in the air and at sea, was expected by American staff officers who had spent long weeks planning the Bougainville operation. Looking at a map of the Solomon Islands chain, it was clear that this largest island (130 by 30 miles) at the northwest end was a key target to complete the long and difficult journey north from the starting point of Guadalcanal at the south end. Just as Guadalcanal marked the beginning of the island chain, Bougainville would now be the pinnacle in the Northern Solomons. From Bougainville's airfields, American planes could take out the vital Japanese base at Rabaul, which was less than 250 miles away on New Britain. From Bougainville, the enemy could defend his large air and naval operations at Rabaul. “From either side's perspective, the island was a critical possession.”

There were the usual rounds of high-level planning conferences, but on October 1, 1943, Admiral William F. Halsey, Commander of the South Pacific Area, informed General Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Allied Commander of the Southwest Pacific Area, that the beaches at Empress Augusta Bay, located in the middle of Bougainville’s west coast, would be the primary objective. This site was chosen as the point of attack because the main Japanese forces were 25 miles away at the far north and south ends of the island, making it the area with the least resistance. Additionally, it offered a natural defensive region once the Marines landed and their airfields were carved out of the swamp and jungle. Finally, the target area would serve as a location for a long-range radar installation and an advanced naval base for PT (patrol torpedo) boats.

It was supposed to be a campaign in a really awful place. And it was. There were centipedes as wide as three fingers, butterflies the size of small birds, dense and nearly impossible-to-navigate jungles, endless mangrove swamps, crocodile-filled rivers, millions of bugs, and heavy daily downpours combined with exhausting humidity.

Major General Allen H. Turnage, the 3rd Marine Division commander, summarized these horrors. “Never had men in the Marine Corps had to fight and take care of themselves over such challenging terrain as what they encountered on Bougainville.”

To carry out this operation, Lieutenant General Alexander A. Vandegrift, Commanding General, I Marine Amphibious Corps (IMAC), A had in his command for the operation:

The Marine riflemen in these units were backed up by a variety of support: 155mm artillery, motor transport, amphibious tractors, and signal, medical, special weapons, Seabee, and tank battalions. The 3rd Division had its own engineers and pioneers in the 19th Marines and artillery in the 12th Marines.

Immediately after Vandegrift’s operation order, practice landing exercises took place in the New Hebrides, as well as on Guadalcanal and Florida Islands.

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The goals set for Bougainville were to capture a large beachhead and construct airstrips. This would allow American planes to effectively neutralize the Japanese airfields at Kahili, Buka, and Bonis, located at the north and south ends of Bougainville. (By October 31, American planes had already made the Japanese fields unusable.) Following that, there would be a significant boost in air operations against Rabaul.

Facing the invading Marines was a strong enemy force spread across the island. At Buin, for example, there were 21,800 Japanese troops. Leading the defense was an old opponent, Lieutenant General Haruyoshi Hyakutake, commander of the Seventeenth Army, and the same man the Marines had defeated at Guadalcanal. His main force was the 6th Division.

Working with the ground U.S. forces were the pilots of Air Solomons: New Zealand fighters, Army Air Force bombers, and the 1st and 2nd Marine Aircraft Wings.8 As early as August 15, fighter planes from VMF-214 (the famous Black Sheep squadron) had attacked the Kahili airfield at the southern end of Bougainville. Now, in October, there were repeated strikes against the Japanese planes at other Bougainville airfields.

At sea, Halsey had appointed Rear Admiral Theodore S. Wilkinson as the leader of Task Force 31. Reporting to him were Rear Admiral Frederick C. Sherman with the carriers (TF 38) and Rear Admiral Aaron S. “Tip” Merrill with the cruisers and destroyers (TF 39). Their mission was to weaken the defenders before the landing and to protect the beachhead held by the Marines.

There was another important part of the American plan: diversion. To throw the enemy off the scent regarding the actual target, Bougainville, the IMAC operations order on October 15 instructed the 8th Brigade Group of the 3rd New Zealand Division to land on the Treasury Islands, 75 miles southeast of Empress Augusta Bay. There, on October 27, the New Zealanders, led by Brigadier R. A. Row, along with 1,900 Marine support troops, landed on two small islands.

One was named Mono and the other Sterling. Mono is about four miles wide from north to south and seven miles long. It looks like a pancake. Sterling, shaped like a hook, is four miles long, narrowing in some spots to 300 yards, but there’s plenty of space on its edges for airstrips.

In a rainy, gray sky, the 29th NZ Battalion (Lieutenant Colonel F. L. H. Davis) and the 36th (Lieutenant Colonel K. B. McKenzie-Muirson) landed at Mono at Falami Point, while the 34th (under Lieutenant Colonel R. J. Eyre) hit the beach of Sterling Island off Blanche Harbor. There was minimal resistance. Support for the assault troops came from LCI (landing craft, infantry) gunboats that took out at least one dangerous Japanese 40mm twin-mount gun and a couple of enemy bunkers.

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A simultaneous landing was then made on the opposite or north side of Mono Island at Soanotalu. This was perhaps the most important landing of all, as New Zealand soldiers, American Seabees, and U.S. radar specialists would establish a large long-range radar station.

The Japanese quickly responded to the Soanotalu landing and charged the perimeter. At one point, 80–90 Japanese soldiers attacked 50 New Zealanders, who held their fire until they could see “the whites of their eyes.” They killed 40 of the Japanese and scattered the rest.

There was unexpected gunfire at Sterling. One Seabee bulldozer operator charged at the machine gun with his large blade. An Army corporal, who was a medic, said he couldn’t believe it, “The Seabee ran his dozer over and over the machine gun nest until everything was quiet.... It all began to smell bad after a couple of days.”

Outnumbered, the Japanese retreated to higher ground, where they were hunted down and killed. Surrender was not an option for them. On November 12, the New Zealanders claimed the Treasuries as their own with the radar station up and running. The total number of Japanese dead reached 205, while the brigade captured only eight prisoners. The operation secured the coastal flank of Bougainville, and soon after, there was an airfield at Sterling. It started operating against enemy forces on Bougainville on Christmas Day, 1943.

A second diversion, east of the Treasury Islands and 45 miles from Bougainville, happened on Choiseul Island. Sub-Lieutenant C. W. Seton of the Royal Australian Navy and a coastwatcher on Choiseul reported that the Japanese there seemed anxious. The garrison troops were mistakenly firing at their own shadows, likely because American and Australian patrols had been traversing the 80-mile-long (20-mile-wide) island since September, scouting out Japanese positions. There were also about 3,500 enemy troops on Choiseul, camped out and waiting to be transported 45 miles north to Buin on Bougainville, where a major Japanese garrison was already stationed. The uncertainty about a potential American invasion somewhere was enough to make the Japanese, particularly Vice Admiral Jinichi Kusaka, Commander of the Southeast Area Fleet in Rabaul, uneasy. He was the one who wanted a large portion of the Japanese Seventeenth Army concentrated at Buin, as he believed the Allies might attack there.

General Vandegrift wanted to make sure the Japanese were focused on Buin. So, on October 20, he called in Lieutenant Colonel Robert H. Williams, who was in charge of the 1st Parachute Regiment, and Lieutenant Colonel Victor H. Krulak, who led its 2nd Battalion. "Get ashore on Choiseul," the general ordered, "and create as much chaos as you can. Make sure they think the invasion has started...."

It was a very unusual raid: 656 men, a few local guides, and an Australian coastwatcher with a road map. The Navy brought Krulak’s reinforced battalion of paratroopers to a beach near a small village called Voza. That would be the command post (CP) for the time being. The troops landed on October 28 at 12:21 AM and quickly hid all their gear in the bushes.

By day, the Marines set up a base on a high jungle plateau in the Voza area. The Japanese quickly noticed the intruders and sent a few fighter planes to strafe the beach, but that didn't cause any damage. They didn't spot the four small landing boats that Krulak had brought and hidden among some mangroves, with their Navy crews ready to respond.

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Krulak then identified two targets. Eight miles south of their command post at Voza, there was a large enemy barge base near the Vagara River. The Australian said there were about 150 Japanese troops there. The other objective was an enemy outpost in the opposite direction, 17 miles north along the Warrior River. Krulak then took his operations officer, Major Tolson A. Smoak, 17 men, and a few local scouts, and headed for the barge basin. On the way, they encountered 10 unsuspecting Japanese unloading a barge. The Marines opened fire, killing seven of them and sinking the barge. After scouting the main target, the barge basin, the patrol returned to Voza.

The next morning, Krulak sent a patrol to the Vagara River near the barge basin for security and then signaled his small landing craft to bring in his troops for the attack. But back at Voza, a group of American planes flew in and attacked the Marines, sinking one of their critical boats. Now, Krulak’s troops would have to march to the village of Sangigai via the Japanese barge basin. To weaken Sangigai, Krulak brought in 26 fighter jets to escort 12 torpedo bombers. They dropped two tons of bombs, making it look like a real invasion.

Krulak then dispatched a company to assault the basin from the beach, and another company equipped with rifles, machine guns, rockets, and mortars to flank the barge center. It was a successful pincer movement. The Marines launched their attack at 2:00 PM on October 30. Anything the battle didn’t destroy, the Marines blew up. The Japanese suffered 72 dead; the Marines had 4 killed and 12 wounded.

All was not so good in the other direction. Major Warner T. Bigger, Krulak’s second-in-command, had been sent north with 87 Marines toward the large position on Choiseul Bay near the Warrior River. His mission was to first destroy the position, with Guppy Island, just offshore and loaded with supplies, as his secondary target.

Bigger reached the Warrior River, but his landing craft got stuck in the shallow water, so he took them to a nearby cove, hid them in the jungle, and continued on foot north to Choiseul Bay. Soon, his scouts reported that they were lost. Since it was late in the day, Bigger set up camp for the night. He sent a patrol back to the Warrior, where they encountered a Japanese force. Sneaking past them, the patrol made it back to Voza. This prompted Krulak to request fighter cover and PT boats to attempt to get to Bigger and bring him back.

But Bigger didn't realize he was in trouble, so he went ahead and bombed Guppy Island with mortars, since he couldn't reach the main enemy position. When Bigger and his men barely made it back to the Warrior River, there were no rescue boats, but there were plenty of Japanese soldiers. As the men waited anxiously, the rescue boats arrived at the very last moment. Thankfully, the men rushed on board under enemy fire. Then two PT boats showed up, guns blazing, providing cover so Bigger's patrol could return to Voza. One of the PT boats was commanded by Lieutenant John F. Kennedy, USN, who would later become the President of the United States. He took on 55 Marines when their escape boat sank.

Krulak had already used up all his time and luck. The Japanese were now on top of him, their commanders particularly frustrated that they had been tricked, since the big landing had already happened at Empress Augusta Bay. Krulak had to get out; Coastwatcher Seton said there wasn’t much time. On the night of November 3, three LCIs met up off Voza. Krulak gave all his rations to the locals as the Marines boarded the LCIs. They could hear their mines and booby traps going off to slow down the Japanese. Within hours after leaving, a strong Japanese pincer closed around the Voza camp, but the Marines were gone, having suffered 9 killed, 15 wounded, and 2 missing, but leaving at least 143 enemy dead on Choiseul.

A final part of the planning for the main landing on Bougainville anticipated that the Japanese navy would definitely launch an attack on the invasion transports. This happened early on the morning of D plus 1. On the enemy side, Japanese destroyer Captain Tameichi Hara, who was in charge of the Shigure, later remembered it was cold, drizzly, and foggy, with very limited visibility as his destroyer left Simpson Harbor, Rabaul. He was part of the interception force set to take out the U.S. invasion troops that had just landed at Empress Augusta Bay. The Shigure was one of six destroyers in the front line of the assigned section of the Southeast Area Fleet, which included the heavy cruisers Myoko and Haguro, along with the light cruisers Agano and Sendai. At 0027 on November 2, 1943, he would come alongside U.S. Task Force 39 under Rear Admiral Merrill, who was ready to block the enemy approach with four light cruisers and eight destroyers. Among his captains was the bold and determined Arleigh Burke, commanding DesDiv (Destroyer Division) 45 on board the Charles S. Ausburne (DD 570).

This encounter was crucial to the Bougainville campaign. At Rabaul, Rear Admiral Matsuji Ijuin had told his sailors, “Japan will fall if Bougainville falls.”

At 2:50 AM, the American ships were engaged in battle. Captain Burke (who would later become Chief of Naval Operations) moved closer to the nearest part of the enemy force led by Vice Admiral Sentaro Omori. Burke's destroyers launched 25 torpedoes, and then Merrill steered his cruiser to dodge the anticipated "Long Lance" torpedo counterattack from the Japanese and to position his ships to fire their six-inch guns.

“I shuddered,” Hara wrote later, “when I realized they must have already launched their torpedoes. The enemy held the initiative. In an instant, I shouted two orders: ‘Launch torpedoes! Hard right rudder.’” Not a single Japanese or American torpedo hit its target in the first exchange. Merrill then brought all his guns to bear. The Japanese responded in kind. The Japanese eight-inch gun salvos fell either short or ahead. The Americans had better luck. One shell from their first broadside struck amidships into the cruiser Sendai, which was carrying Admiral Ijuin. There was frantic maneuvering to dodge shells, with enormous warships, sometimes only yards apart, moving at speeds of 30 knots. Still, Sendai managed to evade eight American torpedoes, even with her rudder jammed. Then a Japanese torpedo hit the U.S. destroyer Foote (DD 511) and blew off her stern, leaving her dead in the water.

Samuel Eliot Morison in Breaking the Bismarck Barrier, explains how “Merrill maneuvered his cruisers so well and kept them at such a distance that no enemy torpedoes could hit.” Admiral Omori demonstrated the same skill and judgment, but he was blind. Only the Americans had radar. Hara later clarified, “Japan did not see the enemy, failed to understand the enemy, and could not locate it... The Japanese fleet was like a blind man swinging a stick against a sighted opponent. The Japanese fleet had no advantage at all...”

What Japan lacked in electronic vision, it partially compensated for with its incredibly bright airplane-dropped flares and naval gunfire star shells. Commander Charles H. Pollow, USN, a former radio officer on the Denver (CL 58), remembered the “unblinking star shells that would let you read the fine print in the bible....” The Japanese also had an advantage with their eight-inch guns, “Sometimes we couldn’t touch them....” Three shells hit his Denver—none detonated, but the ship was still damaged. Columbia (CL 56) also sustained an eight-inch hole through her armor plate.

Then Merrill obscured the enemy ships with such thick smoke that the Japanese thought the Americans were moving one way when they were actually heading in another direction. But before Admiral Omori could retreat, Burke and his destroyer division, the “Little Beavers,” were already among them. First, the Sendai was sunk with 335 men on board, then the Hatsukaze, which collided with the Myoko, was finished off by Burke’s destroyers and sank with all hands—240 men. The cruisers Haguro, Myoko, and the destroyers Shiratsuyu and Samidare were damaged. But most importantly, the threat to the beachhead had been eliminated.

The Americans experienced significant damage to the Foote and minor damage to the Denver, Spence (DD 512), and Columbia. Hara later stated, “If they had truly pursued us aggressively... nearly all the Japanese ships would have been destroyed.” The Americans had exited the battle too early.

And Admiral Ijuin’s prediction that Japan would fall after losing Bougainville turned out to be true, but not specifically because of that loss. It was just one of many defeats that would ultimately lead to Japan's downfall.

Back on Bougainville, after the landing, the days D plus 1 to D12 plus 5 marked the start of Phase II of the operation. This phase involved moving unit positions, sorting out the chaos of supplies, continuous patrols, building roads, starting work on a fighter airstrip, and expanding the beachhead to 2,000 yards.

Then, at dawn on the morning of November 7 (D plus 6), the Japanese attacked. Four of their destroyers landed 475 troops well west of the Marine perimeter, between the Laruma River and the Koromokina Lagoon. They arrived in 21 vessels: barges, ramped landing boats, and even a motorboat, but they spread out over too wide an area, making it difficult to coordinate and organize a simultaneous strike. A Marine Corps combat correspondent, Sergeant Cyril J. O’Brien, noticed the thin young Japanese soldiers who hurried up the beach with 80-pound packs, traveling two-and-a-half miles from the Laruma to near the left flank of the Marines at the Koromokina, to join their fellow fighters.

They were so eager that they would even die. A little prayer often found in the pockets of the dead expressed the fatalistic wish that “whether I float as a corpse in the waters or sink beneath the grasses of the mountainside, I willingly die for the Emperor.”

The first few Japanese who came ashore near the Laruma, however, didn’t die. An antitank platoon with the 9th Marines didn’t fire because the landing craft in the mist looked so much like their own, even with the big white numbers on the front. Near Koromokina, they seemed to be all over the beach. One outpost platoon, which included Private First Class John F. Perella, 19 years old, was stranded on the beach. Perella swam through the surf for 1,000 yards to reach the Marine lines and returned with a Navy rescue boat, earning a Silver Star Medal.

Lieutenant Colonel Walter Asmuth, Jr., the commanding officer of the 3rd Battalion, 9th Marines, ordered a company attack and called in mortars and the artillery from the 12th Marines. The Japanese were well armed with what were known as knee mortars (which were actually grenade launchers) and Nambu machine guns, and they fought back fiercely. In that jungle, you couldn’t see, hear, or smell someone just five feet away. Private First Class Challis L. Still discovered a faint trail and set up his machine gun beside it. An ambush was easy. The lead Japanese soldiers were close enough to touch when Still opened fire. He killed 30 in the column and earned the Silver Star Medal.

Yet, the Japanese didn’t back down. They had only been ashore for hours, but they had already built strong defenses. Even a Marine double envelopment in water, sometimes up to their waists, didn’t succeed. By 1:15 PM, the exhausted 9th Marines company was replaced by the 1st Battalion, 3rd Marines, arriving from the beachhead’s right flank.

During the darkness of the night on November 7, enemy infiltrators made their way into the hospital. Bullets tore through tents while surgeons carried out operations. The doctors of the 3rd Medical Battalion, led by Commander Robert R. Callaway, were shielded by a makeshift barrier of cooks, bakers, and stretcher bearers. (As a notable statistic, less than one percent died from their wounds on Bougainville after reaching a field hospital.)

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The 1st Battalion was near the enemy, close enough to shout back and forth. The Japanese yelled, “Moline, you die” ... and the Marines made crude jokes about Premier Tojo’s eating habits. Marine Captain Gordon Warner spoke fluent Japanese, allowing him to reply quickly to the enemy and even yell convincing commands for a bayonet charge. He was awarded the Navy Cross for taking out machine gun nests with a helmet full of hand grenades. He lost a leg in the battle.

Sergeant Herbert J. Thomas gave his life near the Koromokina. His platoon was knocked down by machine gunfire, and Thomas threw a grenade to take out the weapon. The grenade bounced off jungle vines, and the young man from West Virginia covered it with his body. He was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously.

General Turnage realized that reinforcements were necessary. The day before (November 6), the first group of the 21st Marines had landed. Now, the battle command was handed over to Lieutenant Colonel Ernest W. Fry, Jr., of the 1st Battalion. With two companies, he was prepared for a counterattack, but not before two intense bombardments of the Japanese positions using mortars and five artillery batteries. They targeted a concentrated area that was 300 yards wide and 600 yards deep early on November 8. Light tanks then moved in to support the attack.

When Colonel Fry’s advancing troops arrived at the location where the Japanese had been, they found silence, destruction, plowed ground, and uprooted trees. Combat correspondent Alvin Josephy wrote about men hanging from trees, “Some lay crumpled and twisted next to their shattered weapons, some covered by chunks of jagged logs and jungle dirt, [by] a destroyed bunker....” In that no-man’s land, Colonel Fry and his men walked over and around the bodies of more than 250 enemy soldiers. To ensure the complete destruction of the Japanese landing force, Marine dive bombers from Munda bombed and strafed the survivors on November 9.

By now, the veteran 148th Infantry, the first unit of the Army's 37th Infantry Division, was coming ashore, experienced from the Munda campaign in New Georgia. Later, to take over the left side of the beachhead, its other infantry regiments would arrive, with the 129th on November 13 and the 145th on November 19. The Army’s 135th, 136th, and 140th Field Artillery also landed and would be crucial in supporting future advances on the right flank. Major General Robert S. Beightler, USA, was the division commander.

Captain Conrad M. Fowler, a company commander in the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines, later remembered how an attack down the trails was anticipated: “They had to come our way to confront us directly. The trails were the only land route through that rainforest.” His company would be ready to confront them. He received a Silver Star Medal.

With a Japanese attack expected, General Turnage sent a company from the 2nd Raider Regiment up the Mission (Piva) trail on D-Day to set up a roadblock—just above the old Buretoni Catholic Mission (still in operation today). At first, the raiders didn’t have much to do, and by November 4, elements of the 9th Marines had arrived to assist them. The enemy, the 23rd Infantry coming up from Buin, launched their attack on November 7. Their assault was timed to coincide15 with the Koromokina landings. The raiders held their ground, but “the woods were full of Japs, dead.... The most we had to do was bury them.”

At this point, General Turnage instructed Colonel Edward A. Craig, the commanding officer of the 9th Marines, to clear the way ahead and move towards the junction of the Piva and Numa-Numa trails. Craig assigned this mission to the 2nd Raider Regiment under Lieutenant Colonel Alan B. Shapley. The actual attack would be led by Lieutenant Colonel Fred D. Beans of the 3rd Raider Battalion, who had just arrived from Puruata Island, and would include elements from the 9th Marines and weapons companies.

The Japanese didn’t wait for a Marine attack; they advanced on November 516 and threatened to take over the trailblock. It quickly turned into a series of brutal skirmishes, and fighting continued for five days. There were many acts of courage. Privates First Class Henry Gurke and Donald G. Probst, armed with an automatic weapon, were about to be overrun. A grenade landed in the foxhole between them. To save their crucial position and his partner, Gurke pushed Probst aside and threw himself on the grenade, sacrificing himself. He was awarded the Medal of Honor posthumously; Probst received the Silver Star Medal.

Mortars and artillery exchanged fire from both sides. The Japanese would sneak right up to the Marine positions for cover. Marines had to call in friendly fire almost on top of themselves. On the narrow trail, men often had to put themselves at risk. The Japanese suffered the most because suddenly, shortly after noon on November 9, the enemy resistance broke. By 3 PM, the junction of the Piva and Numa-Numa trails was reached and secured. About 550 Japanese soldiers were killed. The Marines lost 19 and had 32 wounded.

To strengthen their hard-earned position, Marine torpedo bombers from Munda bombed the surrounding area on November 10. This enabled two battalions of the 9th Marines to establish solid defensive positions along the Numa-Numa Trail, with “aggressive” patrols quickly spreading out, as usual. The battle for the Piva Trail had ended in victory.

The main logistical element in this operation—and almost all others on Bougainville—was the amtrac. There were large areas where tanks and half-tracks, not to mention trucks, just couldn’t get through the endless swamps, constant streams, and thick mud from the daily rains. The amtracs turned out to be incredibly adaptable; they transported soldiers, ammunition, food, water, barbed wire, and even radio jeeps to the front lines where they were most needed. On their way back, they evacuated the wounded to get them to the urgently needed medical centers in the rear.

Other developments occurred at this point in the campaign. As mentioned, the 37th Infantry Division was brought into the perimeter. At the top of the command structure, Major General Roy S. Geiger replaced Vandegrift as Commanding General, IMAC, on November 9 and took control of the Marine and Army units in the campaign from an advanced command post on Bougainville.

The Seabees and Marine engineers were working diligently now. Working about 1,500 yards ahead of the front lines and protected by a strong combat patrol, they were able to cut two 5,000-foot survey lanes running east to west across the front of the perimeter.

On D plus 10, November 11, a new operation order was issued. “Keep attacking with the 3rd Marine Division on the right (east) and the 37th Infantry Division on the left (west).” An Army-Marine artillery group was put together under IMAC control to provide concentrated fire, and Marine air support would be available on request.

The first goal in the renewed effort was to take control of the crucial intersection of the Numa-Numa Trail and the East-West trail. On November 13, a company of the 21st Marines started the advance at 8:00 AM. By 11:00 AM, it was ambushed by a “sizeable” enemy force hidden in a coconut palm grove near the trail junction. The Japanese reached the crossroads first, and the situation for the lead Marine company quickly became critical. The 2nd Battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Eustace R. Smoak, sent his executive officer, Major Glenn Fissell, along with artillery observers from the 12th Marines. They reported that the situation was dire. Then Major Fissell was killed. Ignoring flank security, Smoak moved closer to the action and brought in additional reinforcing companies. (By this time, a lateral road across the front of the perimeter had been built.)

The next day, tanks were brought in and artillery was set up around the battalion. Smoak also called in 18 torpedo bombers. The reorganized riflemen charged forward again in a fresh attack. The tanks turned out to be a disaster, causing chaos at one point by firing on fellow Marines on their flank and running over several of their own men. Still, by the end of the day, the Japanese positions were overrun, and the surviving enemy was pushed back into a swamp. The Marines now controlled the junction of the two crucial trails. As a result, the entire beachhead was able to advance 1,000 to 1,500 yards, reaching Inland Defense Line D, 5,000 yards from the beach.

One important result of this progress was that the two main airstrips could now be built. The airfields would be constructed by the18 Seabees. The 25th, 53rd, and 71st Naval Construction Battalions (“Seabees”) landed on D-Day with the assault waves of the 3rd Marine Division to immediately start building roads, airfields, and camp areas. (They had a fighter strip up and running at Torokina by December). Always working closely with the Marines, the Seabees gained respect in the eyes of the Leathernecks. Often, Marines had to clear the way with gunfire so a Seabee could do his job. Many would remember the brave Seabee bulldozer driver who covered a sputtering machine gun nest with his blade. Marines on the Piva Trail later saw another determined bulldozer operator repairing holes in the tarmac of his growing bomber strip as fast as Japanese artillery could destroy it. Any Marine who returned from the grim swamps toward the beach would recall the amazement of the “Marine Drive.” It was a two-lane asphalt highway, complete with wide shoulders and drainage ditches. It ran through jungle so thick that the exhausted men had to chop their way through it only a week or so before.

Meanwhile, back on the beach, the U.S. Navy had been working hard to bring in supplies and personnel. By D plus 12, it had delivered over 23,000 tons of cargo and nearly 34,000 troops. Marine fighters in the air provided constant protection from Japanese airstrikes. The Marine 3rd Defense Battalion was equipped with long-range radar and antiaircraft guns for extra defense. (This battalion also had long-range 155mm guns that targeted Japanese assaults on the perimeter.)

20

By now, the 37th Infantry Division on the left was on solid ground, facing scattered opposition, and able to make significant progress. The situation was very different for the 3rd Marine Division on the right. Lagoons and swamps were everywhere. The riflemen were in isolated, individual positions, like little islands of men stuck in what they ironically called “dry swamps.” This meant the water and/or slimy mud was only ankle-deep, instead of up to their knees or waists, as it was all around them. This nightmare terrain, combined with heavy, daily rainstorms, made digging foxholes impossible. So, their machine guns had to be tied to tree trunks while the men huddled uncomfortably in the water and mud. They carried very little in their packs, except for various pills that were essential to stay in fighting shape in their oppressive, bug-infested environment: salt tablets, sulfa powder, aspirin, iodine, vitamins, atabrine tablets (for preventing malaria), and insect repellent.

Colonel Frazer West, who commanded a company in the 9th Marines at Bougainville, was interviewed by Monks 45 years later. He still painfully recalled what living in the slimy swamp water did to the Marines: “With almost no change of clothes, sand rubbing against the skin, stifling heat, and constant immersion in water, jungle rot was a widespread issue. Men got it on their scalps, under their arms, in their genital areas, just everywhere. It was a miserable affliction, and in combat, there was very little that could be done to ease it. The only thing you could do was with the jungle ulcers. I’d have the corpsman light a match on a razor blade, split the ulcer open, and squeeze sulfanilamide powder into it. I must have had about 30 jungle ulcers on me at one point. This was pretty typical.” Corpsmen painted many Marines with skin infections using tincture of merthiolate or a potassium permanganate solution so that they looked like the ancient Picts who went into battle with their bodies smeared with blue woad.

The Marines who had survived the first two weeks of the campaign were now experienced in battle. They instinctively executed their platoon tactics in jungle combat, whether on the offense or defense. They understood their enemy’s strategies, and everything suggested that they were winning.

The calm following the Coconut Grove fight didn’t last long. On November 18, the typical rush of patrols quickly brought back news that the Japanese had established a roadblock on both the 22 Numa-Numa Trail and the East-West Trail.

To take the Numa-Numa position, the 3rd Marines deployed its 3rd Battalion (Lieutenant Colonel Ralph M. King) to lead the attack. They struck the Japanese flanks, drove them back, and established their own roadblock on November 19.

The 2nd Battalion of the 3rd Marines quickly targeted the Japanese blockade on the East-West Trail between the two forks of the Piva River. After taking that position, their next goal was a 400-foot ridge that overlooked the entire area—and, in fact, offered a view all the way to Empress Augusta Bay. (As the first elevated terrain the Marines had encountered, it would definitely serve as a crucial observation point for directing the artillery fire of the 12th Marines.)

Lieutenant Colonel Hector de Zayas, in charge of the battalion, called one of his company commanders and issued a brief order: “I want you to take it.” A patrol led by First Lieutenant Steve J. Cibik was quickly sent to secure the area. This kicked off a four-day ordeal from November 20 to 23. The Marines reached the top, recognized how crucial the vantage point was for the Japanese, set up defensive positions, and prepared for the inevitable enemy counterattacks. And they came, relentlessly. There were “fanatical attempts by the Japanese to reclaim the position” in the form of “wild charges that sometimes brought the Japanese within a few feet of their foxholes on the ridge crest.” Cibik called in Marine artillery strikes just 50 yards from his men. The Marines held their ground and were eventually relieved, tired but proud. Cibik received a Silver Star Medal, and the hill was forever known as “Cibik Ridge.”

While the firestorm raged where Cibik stood, the 3rd Marines were focused on their mission to drive the Japanese from the first and closest of Piva’s forks. The 2nd Battalion caught up with Cibik, and Lieutenant Colonel de Zayas moved it down the reverse slope of Cibik Ridge. The Japanese launched a fierce attack on November 21, prompting de Zayas to pull back. Then, in classic fashion, the Japanese followed closely behind him. The Marines were prepared, with machine guns ready. One of them took out 74 out of 75 enemy attackers within 20–30 yards of the gun.

The 3rd Marines were backed by the 9th and 21st Marines, along with the raiders, while the 37th Infantry Division set up roadblocks, conducted patrols, and provided flank security. The Army's heavy artillery, the 12th Marines, and the defense battalions also gave support. All the troops were now entering a new phase of the campaign, where the battle would focus more on the hills than on the trails.

Reconnaissance patrols gave a clear picture of what was out there, but they also found that the enemy wasn't as alert as he could or should have been. For example, a Marine rifle company stumbled upon a clearing where the Japanese acted like there was no war—the troops were lounging around, chatting, and drinking beer. The Marine mortars took them apart. Another patrol waited until the people in a bivouac lined up for food before obliterating them with23 mortars, causing chaos with pots, pans, and tea kettles. (Jungle combat had taught the Marines the wisdom of General Turnage’s order: Marines go nowhere without a weapon!)

The different objectives for the Marine and Army riflemen were codenamed using the phonetic alphabet of the time: Dog (achieved on November 15), Easy (achieved on November 20, except for the 9th Marines, which were delayed by an impassable swamp), Fox (finally reached by the Marines on November 28), and How (partly achieved by the Army on November 23 with “no opposition,” and the rest set as a goal for the Marines). After that, the Marines were to continue to the Item and Jig objectives “on orders from Corps Headquarters.”

One account highlights the extreme challenges confronting the Marine battalions: “water that was slimy and often waist-deep, sometimes up to the armpits ... tangles of thorny vines that caused painful injuries ... men slept sitting up in the water ... oppressive heat and disgusting muck.”

In spite of this, detailed plans were made to continue the attack from west to east. The "strongly entrenched" Japanese defenses, with 1,200-1,500 troops, were set up to counter an attack from the south. As a result, the artillery observers on Cibik Ridge targeted their fire on November 23, getting ready for a push by two battalions of the 3rd Marines to try to move 800 yards beyond the east fork of the Piva River. All available tanks and supporting weapons were moved forward. Marine engineers from the 19th Marines worked alongside Seabees under enemy fire to build bridges across the Piva River.

On November 23, as night descended like a heavy curtain, seven battalions of artillery lined up, some almost touching. There were the Army’s 155s, 105s, mortars, 90mm AA; and the same array of the 12th Marines’ cannons, along with 44 machine guns and even a few Hotchkiss guns taken from the enemy.

The morning attack began with the bombardment at 8:35 AM on November 24, Thanksgiving Day; a shaking explosion of fire and noise, likely the heaviest bombardment a Marine operation had ever directed at a target. The shells, totaling 5,600 rounds, rained down on a narrow 800-foot square area of rainforest, only 100 yards from the Marines, so close that shell fragments and shockwaves snapped twigs off nearby bushes.

Yet, as the two assault battalions moved out, the formidable Japanese 23d Infantry launched their own heavy barrage. Their shells caused Marines to fall dead, bleed, and some were even drowned in the murky Piva River, marking “the heaviest casualties of the campaign.24 Twice the enemy fire accurately targeted the advancing Marines.” But the 3d Marines advanced with an unstoppable force of tanks, flamethrowers, and machine gun, mortar, and rifle fire.

Where the Army-Marine artillery barrages landed, there was complete destruction. Major Schmuck, a company commander in one of the assault battalions, later recalled:

There was one last touch. It was Thanksgiving Day, and a tradition had to be honored. President Franklin D. Roosevelt had declared that all servicemen should get turkey—one way or another. Out there on the front lines, the men got it by “the other.” Still, few Marines of that time would blame the Old Corps for bad meals. If they could get food to the frontline troops, they would. A Marine remembered, “The carrying parties did get the turkey to them. Nature won, though; the turkey had spoiled.” Another man watched the big birds packed in rice in five-gallon containers, “much like home except for baseball and apple pie.” For some, however, just before the turkey was served, the order came down, “Prepare to move out!” Those men got their turkey and ate it on the move ... on the way to a new battle, Hand Grenade Hill.

Before that could be attacked, there was a reorganization on D plus 24. The battered 3rd Marines were reinforced by the 9th Marines and the 2nd Raiders. Since D-Day, a total of 2,014 Japanese soldiers had been counted as dead, but “total enemy casualties must have been at least three times that figure.” And as a sign for the future use of Bougainville as a base for large air strikes against the Japanese, U.S. planes could now operate from the airstrip right by the Torokina beachhead. With the enemy finally pushed east of the Torokina River, Marines occupied the high ground that controlled the location of the upcoming Piva bomber airstrip.

The lead for the next attack on November 25 was assigned to the fresh troops of Lieutenant Colonel Carey A. Randall, who had just taken over the 1st Battalion, 9th Marines. They were joined by the 2nd Raider Battalion under Major Richard T. Washburn. Randall could almost see his next target from the prime high ground of Cibik Ridge. Just ahead was another hill, which, like the ridge, would be extremely difficult to capture because the Japanese would defend it like a fortress. It would soon be known as “Hand Grenade Hill” for good reason. Two of Randall’s companies launched an assault alongside Washburn’s raiders. However, the Japanese put up a strong fight. About 70 of them hindered the Marine advance, but one company got close to the top. The Marines were between five to 50 yards away from the Japanese, engaged in combat with small arms, automatic weapons, and hand grenades. The enemy fought back fiercely, and the Marines were pushed back by a barrage of hand grenades. One Marine remarked that the hill must have been the grenade storage facility for the entire Solomon Islands.

It was at Hand Grenade Hill that Lieutenant Howell T. Heflin, a big, unforgettable figure and one of Alabama’s favorites, the son of a Methodist minister, grabbed a BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle) and fired at the Japanese positions. He cleared a path for his platoon almost to the top of the hill but couldn't maintain it. He received the Silver Star Medal, and later, he became Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court and then the senior U.S. Senator from Alabama.

At the end of a hectic day, the Marines were stuck. On the morning of November 26, surprised scouts discovered that the Japanese had withdrawn under the cover of darkness. Now, all the soggy, foul-smelling, disrupted ground around the Piva Forks, including the 26 strategic ridge blocking the East-West Trail, was under Marine control.

There was a movement of units that led to this line-up: the 148th and 129th Infantry Regiments positioned in the 37th Division area on the left side of the perimeter. The 9th Marines, 21st Marines, and 3rd Marines were lined up from left to right in the Marine sector.

As a final security measure, IMAC was worried about a last ridge of hills about 2,000 yards ahead, which still dominated too much of the perimeter. So, on November 28, General Geiger ordered an advance to reach Inland Defense Line Fox. To protect this overall advance from a surprise Japanese attack on the far right flank, a raid was planned to detect any enemy troop movements, destroy their supplies, and disrupt their communications at a location called Koiari, 10 miles down the coast from Cape Torokina. The 1st Parachute Battalion, just arrived from Vella Lavella under Major Richard Fagan, was assigned to this mission, along with a company from the 3rd Raider Battalion. Although it had never parachuted in combat, the parachute battalion had gained experience during the Guadalcanal campaign.

Carried by a U.S. Navy landing craft, the men in the raid were put ashore at 0400 on November 29, almost right in the middle of a Japanese supply dump. Total surprise all around! The Marines quickly dug in while the enemy reacted swiftly with a "furious hail" of mortar fire, and also pounded the beachhead with machine guns and rifles. Then the Japanese launched their attacks, and Marine casualties rose "alarmingly." It could have been worse if not for a protective curtain of fire from the 155mm guns of the 3d Defense Battalion stationed back at Cape Torokina. With an estimated 1,200 enemy troops closing in on the Marines, it was painfully clear that the raiding group was facing disaster. Two attempts to rescue them with their landing craft were stopped by heavy Japanese artillery fire. Now the Marines had their backs to the sea and were almost out of ammunition. Then, around 1800, three U.S. destroyers rushed close to the beach, firing all their guns. They had come in response to a frantic radio signal from IMAC, where the group’s dangerous situation was clearly understood. Now a wall of shell fire from the destroyers and the 155s allowed two rescue boats to race for the beach and lift off the raiding group safely. With none of the original objectives achieved, the raid had been a costly failure, even though it resulted in at least 145 Japanese dead.

Now the action focused on the final targets of the 3rd Marine Division: the cluster of hills 2,000 yards away. Once taken, they would obstruct the East-West Trail where it crossed the Torokina River and significantly reinforce the Final Inland Defense Line, which was the Marines' ultimate goal. A supply base, known as Evansville, was established behind Hill 600 for the upcoming assaults.

The 1st Marine Parachute Regiment, led by Lieutenant Colonel Robert H. Williams, was notified two days after arriving on Bougainville that General Turnage had tasked it with occupying hills that IMAC believed still dominated much of the Marine territory. This ridgeline included Hill 1000, along with its spur that would soon be nicknamed Hellzapoppin Ridge (after the long-running Broadway show “Hellzapoppin”), Hill 600, and Hill 600A. To secure the area, Williams received support from units of the 3rd, 9th, and 21st Marines (which had established its own independent outpost on Hill 600 on November 27). By December 5, the 1st Parachute Regiment had achieved a general outpost line stretching from Hill 1000 to where the East-West Trail meets the Torokina River.

Then on December 7, Major Robert T. Vance and his 3rd Parachute Battalion walked along the ridge on Hill 1000 to find enemy positions on the nearby spur that had been abandoned. The spur was naturally fortified: dense jungle provided cover, gullies hindered movement, and steep slopes discouraged any approach. This particular rise, which would later be called Hellzapoppin Ridge, stood about 280 feet high, was 40 feet wide at the top, and stretched 650 feet long, making it an ideal spot for overall defense.

Jumping off from Hill 1000 on the morning of December 9 to take the spur, Vance's men were hit with a barrage of gunfire. The Japanese had returned, 235 of them from the 23rd Infantry. The paratroopers attacked repeatedly but with no success. Artillery fire was called in, but the Japanese found cover on the reverse slopes. Marine shells exploded high in the banyan trees, missing the enemy who was dug in. As a result, the paratroopers suffered heavy casualties. “Ill-equipped and under-strength,” they were pulled back on December 10 to Hill 1000. Two battalions of the 21st Marines, with a battalion of the 9th Marines covering their left flank, continued the assault. It would last for six grueling days.

Scrambling up the slopes, the new attacking Marines would pass the bodies of the parachutists. John W. Yager, a first lieutenant in the 21st recalled, “The para-Marines made the first contact and had left their dead there. After a few days, they had become very unpleasant reminders of what faced us as we crawled forward, in many instances right next to them.”

Sergeant John F. Pelletier, also in the 21st, was a lead scout. Trying to cross the ridge spine over to the Hellzapoppin spur, he found dead paratroopers all over the hill. There were dead Japanese soldiers still hanging from trees, and it seemed to him that no Marine had been able to cross to the crest and live to tell about it.

Pelletier explained what happened next:

When artillery fire failed to effectively hit the Japanese entrenched on Hellzapoppin Ridge, Geiger called for air strikes on December 13. Six Marine planes had just landed at the newly completed Torokina airstrip. They arrived with 100-pound bombs, directed at their targets by smoke shells beyond the Marine lines. But the Japanese were really close, very close. Dozens of bombs were dropped just 75 yards from the Marines. With more planes, there were four bombing and strafing runs over several days. A Marine on the ground never forgot the bombers roaring in right over the brush, the ridge, and the heads of the Marines to drop their payload, saying, “It seemed right on top of us.” (This delivery method was essential to get the bombs onto the reverse slope among the Japanese.)

Helping to manage these early strikes and achieve precise accuracy was Lieutenant Colonel William K. Pottinger, G-3 (Operations Officer) of the Forward Echelon, 1st Marine Aircraft Wing. He had taken a radio from a grounded plane, moved to the frontlines, and helped direct the attacking Marine planes in real-time. (This28 technique was an improvised precursor to the refined procedures that Marine dive bombers would later use to achieve impressive results in close air support of ground troops.)

The 3d Marine Division’s history was concise in its assessment, “The air attacks were the most effective factor in taking the ridge ... the best examples of close air support so far in the Pacific War.”

Geiger wasn't done. He had a fleet of the Army's 155mm howitzers moved by landing craft to new firing spots near the mouth of the Torokina River. Now the artillery could unleash fire on the enemy positions on the reverse slopes.

In one of the daily Marine assaults, one company went up the ridge for two attacks against the Japanese, who would jump into holes they had dug on the reverse slope to escape the shelling. The Japanese were finally outsmarted when another company, taking over for the first one, jumped into the enemy foxholes before the original occupants could. The Japanese paid a heavy price trying to come back.

In a final attack on December 18, the two battalions of the 21st moved from Hill 1000 to the spur in a surrounding maneuver. But the artillery and bombs had done their job. The Japanese and their fortress were destroyed. Stunned defenders were easily taken out.

Patrick O’Sheel, a Marine combat correspondent, summed up the brutal battle, “No one knows how many Japanese soldiers were killed. About 30 bodies were found. Another dozen might have been pieced together from arms, legs, and torsos.” The 21st suffered 12 killed and 23 wounded.

With Hellzapoppin finally behind them, Marines could count their blessings and reflect on how miserable their holidays were. They had spent Thanksgiving Day on the trail, chewing on a drumstick while heading to another battle at Piva Forks. And now, on December 21, just four days until Christmas, the troops still had Hill 600A to “square away.”

Reconnaissance found 14–18 Japanese soldiers on that hill, near the Torokina River. A combat patrol from the 21st Marines moved in to drive the Japanese off the position. It wasn’t difficult, but it cost one Marine his life and another was wounded. However, IMAC wanted a permanent outpost on the hill, so the 3rd Battalion, 21st Marines got the assignment. It started with one rifle platoon and a platoon of heavy machine guns on December 22. Hill 600A was a repeat of previous enemy tactics. The Japanese returned to occupy it. They resisted all efforts, even against a two-pronged attack. A full company arrived and launched three assaults, but that didn’t help either. Late on the 23rd, the Marines held their ground for the night, getting ready for another attack in the morning. That morning was Christmas Eve, 1943. Scouts went up to check. The Japanese had vanished. Christmas wasn’t joyful, but it was an improvement. For the 3rd Marine Division, the war was over on Bougainville.

The landing force had taken control of the beachhead, dealt with the enemy, and secured the area for the crucial airfields. Now they were getting ready to leave, as the airfields were being set up to target Rabaul and its surroundings.

Since December 10, F4U Vought Corsairs from Marine Fighting Squadron (VMF) 216 (1st Marine Aircraft Wing) had set up at the new airstrip on Torokina, nearly lapping the sea. The fighter planes would be crucial for the success of the AirSols (Air Solomons) campaign against Rabaul, as they made large-scale bombing raids possible by providing air cover. Major General Ralph J. Mitchell, USMC, took charge of AirSols on November 20, 1943. By January 9, 1944, both fighter and bomber aircraft were operating from the Piva airstrips. After Bougainville, Mitchell would have double the airpower and facilities compared to what the Japanese had in the entire Southwest Pacific region.

The campaign had cost the Marines 423 lives and left 1,418 wounded. Enemy casualties were estimated at 2,458, with only 23 prisoners taken.

It was now time for the 3rd Marine Division to head home to Guadalcanal, with a "well done" from Halsey. (In the Admiral’s colorful language, a message to Geiger said, “You have literally succeeded in setting up and opening for business a shop in the Japs’ front yard.”) Now there would be plenty of papayas and Lister bags, as well as a PX, a post office, and some sports and movies. General Turnage was relieved on December 28 by Major General John R. Hodge of the Americal Division, which took over the eastern sector. The 37th Infantry Division kept its responsibility for the western section of the Bougainville perimeter. Admiral Halsey directed the Commanding General of XIV Corps, Major General Oscar W. Griswold, to relieve General Geiger, Commanding General of IMAC. The Army assumed control of the beachhead as of December 15. The 3rd Marines left Bougainville on Christmas Day. The 9th left on December 28 and had a party with two cans of beer per man. The 21st, the last to arrive on the island, was the division’s final rifle regiment to leave, on January 9, 1944.

Every soldier in those regiments understood the essential part that the supporting battalions had played. The 19th Marines’ pioneers and engineers worked tirelessly to construct the bridges and paths that delivered the necessary water, food, and ammunition to the front lines through what seemed like endless swamps, jungles, and more water.

And the amtracs of the 3rd Amphibian Tractor Battalion had been crucial in delivering 22,92231 tons of those supplies to the riflemen. They were “the most important link in the vital supply chain.”

Working behind the amtracs were the overlooked men of the 3d Service Battalion who, under the division quartermaster, Colonel William C. Hall, organized and streamlined the messy pile of supplies on the beach. As roads were gradually constructed, the 6×6 trucks of the 3d Motor Transport Battalion transported the supplies to forward dumps for the amtracs to collect.

The 12th Marines and Army artillery had delivered wave after wave of preparatory fire—72,643 rounds in total.

The essential role of Marine aviation, as mentioned earlier, was highlighted by General Turnage's multiple requests for close air support, totaling 10 strikes.

The Seabees, working at a “feverish rate,” had miraculously carved three airfields out of the unbelievable mess that characterized the area. And it was from those bases that the long-range, strategic effects of Bougainville would be felt by the enemy.

The 3rd Medical Battalion had taken care of the wounded. With corpsmen everywhere on the front lines during every battle and aid stations and field hospitals just behind, the riflemen knew they had been well looked after.

General Turnage summarized the campaign well: “Rarely have troops faced such a tough mix of combat, supply issues, and evacuation. From the very start, it was a daring and risky operation. Its success came from the planning at all levels and the unwavering determination, bravery, and commitment to duty of every member across all participating organizations.”

Thus it was that capturing Bougainville marked the peak of the climb after the long journey through the Solomon Islands.

There were, however, two minor land operations to complete the isolation of Rabaul. The first was at Green Island, just 37 miles north of Bougainville. It was a rough, eight-mile-long (four-mile-wide) oval ring, made up of three islands of sand and coral surrounding a quiet lagoon, and only 117 miles from Rabaul. To General Douglas MacArthur, it was the final step of the Solomon Islands campaign.

The job of taking the island went to the 5,800 soldiers of the 3rd New Zealand Division led by Major General H. E. Barrowclough, excluding the 8th Brigade, which had been deployed in the Treasuries operation. There was also a group of American troops, Seabees, and engineers, along with support from AirSol Marine planes commanded by Brigadier General Field Harris. Rear Admiral Wilkinson was in charge of Task Force 31, whose warships would be on standby for targets (although Green Island wouldn't receive any pre-invasion bombardment). The atoll ring was too narrow, and bombardment would pose a risk to the island's residents.

Late in January 1944, 300 men from the 30th New Zealand Battalion, along with Seabees and engineering specialists, landed on the island. They assessed the island's potential, identified locations for an airstrip, checked the lagoon depths, and looked for suitable spots for a boat basin.

All of this signaled a warning to the Japanese, but it was too late for them to take action. Then, on February 14, Japanese scout planes alerted the 102 defenders on Green Island that a large Allied convoy was approaching, escorted by destroyers and cruisers. Japanese aircraft from Rabaul and Kavieng attacked the convoy under the moonlight, but at 6:41 AM, the landing craft had crossed the starting line without any damage and were almost to the beach. Within two hours, all were ashore without any opposition. Then Japanese dive bombers came charging in, but the Allied antiaircraft fire and Marine fighter planes (VMF-212) were effective enough to avoid hits on the transports or beach supplies. New Zealand patrols faced only slight resistance, with a few brief firefights. By February 19, the 33rd, 37th, and 93rd Seabees were constructing an airfield on the island.

By March 4, a heavy B-24 bomber managed to make an emergency landing on the Green Island runway. Three days later, AirSols planes were stationed there, leading to the runway being referred to as “Green.” Before long, B-24s were there to launch attacks on the large Japanese base at Truk.

The second operation involved the seizure of Emirau Island. It was far north of Green Island, 75 miles northwest of the enemy stronghold in Kavieng, New Ireland. Actually, Kavieng had been considered as a target for invasion by the 3rd Marine Division, but higher-ups decided the cost would be too high. It was better to let Kavieng fade away. Capturing Emirau and establishing air and naval bases there would effectively isolate the Solomon Islands and the Bismarck Archipelago from the Japanese. It was a small investment with significant returns.

Emirau is an oddly shaped island in the St. Matthias Group, eight miles long and four miles wide, featuring a lot of jungle and many hills, but also space for boat basins and airstrips. The locals reported that there had been no Japanese there since January, and air reconnaissance found none.

The unit chosen for the landing had a legendary name in the history of the Corps: the 4th Marines. The original regiment was the legendary “China Marines” and had fought valiantly during the desperate defense of Bataan and the eventual surrender at Corregidor in the Philippines. Now, it had been reestablished as a new, independent regiment, made up of the tough, battle-hardened veterans from the raider battalions.

The 4th Marines got to Emirau just after 6:00 AM on March 20, 1944. The Marines and sailors shot a few rounds at nothing; then the amphibious tractors started firing, wounding one Marine. The Seabees immediately began working on the airfields, even before the island was secured. Before long, they set up a 7,000-foot bomber runway and a 5,000-foot stretch for fighter jets.

All was secure until attention turned to a small nearby island that had a Japanese fuel and supply dump. Destroyers blasted it to pieces... then spotted a large canoe at sea fleeing with some of the enemy. Not feeling particularly aggressive after this calm operation, the destroyer moved in close. The Japanese decided to open fire with a machine gun. That was a mistake. The destroyer had to respond. The canoe didn’t sink and was brought alongside with the body of a Japanese officer and 26 living enlisted men—who might have silently questioned their officer’s judgment.

These were minor events compared to the ending in Bougainville. After the 3rd Marine Division pulled out at the end of 1943, having fought its way to the last defensive line, the two Army divisions, the 37th Infantry and the Americal, took charge and expanded the perimeter, encountering the Japanese only occasionally.

Then, in late February and early March 1944, patrols started making “almost continuous” contact with the enemy. It seemed that the Japanese were gearing up for a serious counterattack. On March 8, the 145th Infantry (from the 37th) was hit by artillery fire. Then the 6th Division, which was the parent of the old enemy, the 23d Infantry, attacked fiercely. It took five days of “very severe” fighting, with support from a battalion of the 148th Infantry, along with heavy artillery fire and airstrikes, to push the determined Japanese back. Meanwhile, the 129th Infantry had also been “heavily attacked.” The enemy kept coming and coming, and it was a full nine days before there was a break on March 17.

On March 24, the Japanese, after reorganizing, launched another wave of attacks “with even greater pressure.” This time they also brought in three regiments from their 17th Division. The artillery from both American divisions, directed by Cub spotter planes, executed “the heaviest support mission ever conducted in the South Pacific Area.” That shattered the enemy forces, and the battle finally ended on March 25.

Major General Griswold, the corps commander, after eight significant enemy attacks, wrote in a letter four days later:

The American Division had moved forward alongside the 37th during March and April, with its final operation occurring on April 13-14. This marked the end of significant offensive actions for the two Army divisions; the enemy had been pushed far out of artillery range of the airstrips, which were 12,000 yards away.

For Americans, this marked the end of the Bougainville story: a tale of well-trained units, made up of determined, skilled men, who fought their way to a decisive victory. The 3rd Marine Division had led the effort in securing a key island base, ensuring the critical isolation of Rabaul.

The author is greatly indebted to Cyril J. O’Brien, who served as a Marine Combat Correspondent in Bougainville. A draft he prepared about this operation utilized information from U.S. Army, Coast Guard, and New Zealand sources, as well as the Marine Corps, and included a range of vivid stories and personal interviews, along with some photographs not found in official USMC files, all of which are sincerely acknowledged.

As always, the official Marine history of the Pacific campaigns provides comprehensive coverage of Bougainville and the supporting landings: Henry I. Shaw, Jr., and Maj Douglas T. Kane, USMC, Isolation of Rabaul, vol. 2, History of U.S. Marine Corps Operations in World War II (Washington: Historical Branch, G-3 Division, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1963).

An earlier, shorter official history is Maj John N. Rentz, USMCR, Bougainville and the Northern Solomons (Washington: Historical Section, Division of Public Information, Headquarters, U.S. Marine Corps, 1948).

The earliest, simplest official account is a printed summary, labeled as a “first attempt”: U.S. Marine Corps, Headquarters, Historical Division. Unpublished monograph: “The Bougainville Operation, First Marine Amphibious Corps, 1 November–28 December 1943,” dated Feb 1945. VE603 1st.A2, Library, Marine Corps Historical Center, Washington, D.C.

A semi-official history of the 3rd Marine Division was “made possible by the Commandant, who approved spending the division’s unused Post Exchange funds.

The final draft was approved by a group of 3rd Division officers....” The book is: 1stLt Robert A. Aurthur, USMCR, and 1stLt Kenneth Cohlmia, USMCR, edited by LtCol Robert T. Vance, USMC, The Third Marine Division (Washington: Infantry Journal Press, 1948).

An account showing direct personal involvement in the campaign, along with later interviews, is: Capt John A. Monks, Jr., A Ribbon and a Star: The Third Marines at Bougainville (New York: Holt and Co., 1945).

Another history follows the campaign on the island from the Marine operation through the later U.S. Army battles and ends with the Australians as the last troops leading to the overall Japanese surrender in 1945: Harry A. Gailey, Bougainville 1943–1945—The Forgotten Campaign (Lexington, Ky: University Press of Kentucky, 1991).

The complete account of the important naval battle during the Marines' landing can be found in RAdm Samuel Eliot Morison's Breaking the Bismarck Barrier, 22 July 1942–1 May 1944, vol. 6, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II (Boston: Little Brown and Co., 1950).

A detailed account of the death of Adm Yamamoto is in R. Cargil Hall, ed., Lightning Over Bougainville (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991).

Personal Papers and Oral Histories files at the Marine Corps Historical Center didn’t yield much useful information, but the biographical and photographic files were very helpful. The staff at the Marine Corps Historical Center was always supportive, especially Catherine Kerns, who prepared my manuscript copy.

Captain John C. Chapin graduated with honors in history from Yale University in 1942 and received his commission later that same year. He was a rifle platoon leader in the 24th Marines, 4th Marine Division, and got injured during the assault landings on Roi-Namur and Saipan.

Transferred to the Historical Division at Headquarters Marine Corps, he wrote the first official histories of the 4th and 5th Marine Divisions. After World War II, he moved to Reserve status and earned a master’s degree in history from George Washington University, with a thesis on “The Marine Occupation of Haiti, 1915–1922.”

Now a retired captain, he has been a volunteer at the Marine Corps Historical Center for 12 years. During that time, he wrote History of Marine Fighter-Attack (VMFA) Squadron 115. With support from the Historical Center and the Marine Corps Historical Foundation, he then spent several years researching and interviewing for a new book, Uncommon Men: The Sergeants Major of the Marine Corps, published in 1992 by the White Mane Publishing Company.

Subsequently, he wrote four monographs for this series of historical pamphlets, commemorating the campaigns for the Marshalls, Saipan, Bougainville, and Marine Aviation in the Philippines operations.