Bougainville

Patrol

Adventures With a Fijian Battalion

By Major Dick Freeman, F.M.F.

Bougainville, Feb.

IHAVE just returned from the back of beyond. For some unaccountable reason the “Powers that be” wished to know what was happening on the other side of this island, and I was chosen to lead my company across to find out.

A spot on the map was picked for me to make my headquarters, and we were to work out on to the beach from there.

According to map measurement this place was only 32 miles away and the beach another eight miles further on.

However, the map was far from accurate, and the paths and villages we encountered were not even shown. We had believed

that we would do the distance easily in three days, and decided to travel on halt rations in order to carry surplus am munition.

So—we started out. I have never in all my life been over such rough country: the highest point we crossed was only 3,000 feet, but every day we struck at least two, and often three gorges, where we went straight down a thousand feet, followed a creek at the bottom for a hundred yards or so and then went straight up a thousand feet on the other side. We kept plugging along, making camp just where nightfall found us, and on the sth morning, having travelled the last few hours with no food, made what became our main base camp.

Our wireless had broken down, and as a result we had not been able to make contact with supply planes. However, half an hour after making the base camp planes passed over still searching, and this time we contacted them and down

floated enough food to last us a fort night.

MY job, briefly, was to send patrols down to the beach to find the Japa nese. I sent the first patrol, under Rea, out one day with orders to return the next, but, again thanks to the won derful map, instead of the place being about 8 miles away, as shown, it was seven hours’ march. Rea’s patrol met three Japs who, fortunately they killed, and although the noise of shooting dis turbed a hornets’ nest, they got back into the heavy bush and later to our camp.

As a result of Rea’s experiences, I gave the next two patrols one day to go, two days on the job, and one day to return.

Off they went, and all I could do was sit and await their return.

We had contacted some natives who had remained loyal all through the Jap occupation, and they gladly did every thing they could to help us. Nothing was too much trouble for them and they were, and still are, invaluable to us. They know all the trails and short cuts, and did good work bringing the natives back over to our side. On the third day, after my second party had left for the beach, I got information through one of these boys that the Japs had apparently found out we were there, and 300 of them had moved up into the hills by another track and were sitting on the trail by which I had moved in. I promptly sent a platoon out back along the trail for a couple of miles to where, on my way in, I had noted a good spot for holding out, and early next morning went out myself to check up. I was just leaving to return when a messenger arrived to say that my patrols on their return journey had been am bushed by the Japs, that George Thompson was wounded and missing, that there were three Fijians missing, and one Fijian and a native boy had been killed. I spent a couple of very worrying hours, but in due course the patrols came back.

The missing Fijians had been cut off, so made into the bush, and after wander ing around all night had eventually struck the trail again next morning and so made their way back to camp. But no Thomp son. This put me in a hole —I couldn’t send any more men out to look for him, and, with the Japs sitting on the trail, risk losing more lives. I finally got four natives to go out to try to find him—or to get his body, because I felt certain that there was no possible chance of finding him still alive. But I was wrong in this, and subsequently he was found still alive, but badly shaken up. He had been wounded very early in the afternoon when his party jumped and killed six Japs, but one Jap had got him, the bullet passing from his left shoulder blade just under the skin, missing his spine by a miracle and coming out over his right kidney.

DUE to the blood from the wound he looked worse than he actually was.

Two boys were helping him along when they walked into the Jap ambush.

They, as soon as the Japs opened fire, threw him off the trail into the bush and the war was on. Two of the boys were sticking to him when half a dozen Japs rushed them. They dropped Thomp son again to meet this attack and in the scuffle got separated. This was when my Fijian was killed. Thompson lay doggo all that night with Japs onlv a couple of yards awav, and at about 5 in the morning sneaked off and took to the hills He wandered all that morning; about mid-day he heard voices, hid again and along came a couple of natives look ing for food (These natives had gone bush when the Japs came and were hid ing in the hills.) After a lot of sign

language they took him along to then hide-out, gave him food, dried his clothes, watched over him all that night, and next day brought him back to camp. He stood up to it very well.

From then on all I could do was sit and wait to see what the Japs intended to do, and, having Thompson and another lad wounded and no doctor, await deve lopments.

ON the day on which this happened Chivers was to leave base to re lieve me. Fortunately, the guide who was sent to guide Chivers in, knew another track, and so by-passed these Japs, who were still sitting on my tail.

Luckily, too, Upton and a couple of American Colonels also came across with Chivers’ party, and they suggested level ling enough ground to make a Cub plane strip to evacuate the wounded and sick.

In two days, with our troops and about a hundred kanakas we had a strip com pleted, and the first Cub plane had made a trial trip.

The pilot almost gave us heart failure taking off—just clearing some tall trees at the end by a whisker. Next morning we got busy cutting these trees down, but before we had gone far two planes came in to start taking the sick out. The fijst one took off with a sick Fijian and the pilot, thinking he was going into the trees, pulled the plane’s nose up, lost fly ing speed and crashed into the trees.

There really must be some special Providence looking after FijLians. The plane got in between two trees and slid straight to the ground, a drop of at least 300 feet; it was smashed to pieces, but the pilot and passenger just stepped out without a scratch.

That was one plane out for keeps. The pilot, needless to say, was badly shaken up.

When more trees had been felled the other pilot took his plane off, landed again, then took the other pilot in with him, and repeated the performance.

Then the pilot who had had the crash took off in the same plane (still very nervous) flew about for a few minutes and came in to land again. The poor devil made a bad landing and smashed the landing wheels. This was a great advertisement for the “strip”' we had built—two planes in, and two wrecks.

However, we kept on cutting trees down all that day, and on the following day a third Cub came out and ferried all the sick back to base. The following day we, too, left to come home, and by making forced marches and using an easier track did the journey to camp in under three days.

While we were out, we are certain of having killed 22 Japs, for one of my

fellows killed and two wounded. I was always confident that these lads would fight; I am now quite sure they’ll beat the Jap at any time—anywhere.