Stories Of Fiji's Famous Fighting

Battalion

As told by HAROLD COOPER, of the Fiji Secretariat

rE transport on which the Fijians travelled north from Suva might well have been named the “United Nations.”

The Third Battalion, in addition to Fijians, included many European officers and NCOs (some born in the Colony, others from United Kingdom, New Zea land, Australia), a number of Euronesians (or people of mixed European and South Sea Island blood), a platoon of Tongans and a bearer company of Rotumans.

There were also New Zealand and American units on the ship, the crew of which was Dutch and the stewards Javanese.

THIRD Battalion is unique in that it is organised on a “Provincial” basis: that is to say, Fijians from the same Province serve together in the same platoon or company.

There are some slight disadvantages to this system, as a junior NCO will some times show reluctance to charge with some minor offence a private who, back in the home village, is a petty chief.

But. on the whole, the experiment has been an outstanding success. It has meant that the men have been among old friends from the time they entered the Battalion; and in cases where they have had as company commanders the highest chiefs in their own districts (as with the two Thakombaus, Ratu George and Ratu Edward) they have fought more resolutely than ever under this traditional leadership.

rE commanding officer of the Bat talion (an Englishman now domiciled in New Zealand) says he was sur prised at the zeal with which his men took their Christianity to war with them.

Church parades on Sunday were as popu lar as the cinema shows on week-nights; and their singing was as much of a joy to themselves as to the Americans who came to listen.

The Bible was an important piece of every Fijian’s equipment, and he would often take it into his foxhole with him to read at moments when the Japanese were not distracting his attention.

THE Third Battalion landed at Empress Augusta Bay in the middle of the last Japanese suicide drive against the perimeter.

Lieut.-Colonel Voelcker, the Battalion’s commanding officer, tells how the Ameri can officer who pointed out their camp site to them (it was a chaos of tangled underbrush) said apologetically, “We’d reserved a much better area for you, but two hundred shells fell in it last week, so we thought you’d be happier here.”

THE Americans operated a sawmill on Bougainville and there was fierce competition for the timber it pro duced. The Third Battalion got more than its share.

Very soon it abandoned the practice of sending European officers or NCOs down to the mill, for they would always be met with a string of queries about permits and vouchers. But when a couple of Fijians went down with a truck, they

had only to stand about, looking discon solate, and before long the American sawmillers would be falling over each other to help them get exactly what they wanted, so sky-high was the prestige of the Battalion inside the perimeter.

As for permits and vouchers, the Fijians assumed a blank look whenever they were mentioned. Their knowledge of English didn’t carry them that far; and the Americans didn’t press the point.

COLONEL VOELCKER tells a story of a Fijian corporal who, during a brush with the Japanese in the Jaba River area, was crouched behind a log, when a sniper took a pot at him.

He asked the man sprawled beside him whether he had spotted the sniper. The man said he hadn’t.

“Try this time,” said the corporal, and he bobbed his head quickly up over the log and down again, drawing another shot from the sniper, whose position the cor poral’s companion again failed to locate.

Three times the corporal showed his head for a split second. Three times the sniper fired; and the third time was the last. His well-camouflaged hide-out had been detected by the keen-eyed Fijian, who proceeded to despatch him with a grenade.

DO the Fijians know their weapons?

Colonel Voelcker answers this ques tion by telling how, when his Bat talion, during a sweep well outside the American perimeter, was attacked one night by a Japanese force, a Fijian Vick ers gunner, the lock of whose gun broke as the Japanese were advancing towards him, fitted a new lock in the pitch dark and got his gun back into action in time to wipe out the Japs at point-blank range as they were about to over-run his posi tion.

One Fijian had a diverting experience during a night action on Bougainville, when a foot suddenly descended out of the glopm into his foxhole and planted itself firmly on his steel helmet. It belonged to a Japanese groping his way forward in a familiar attempt to “infil trate” into the Fijian lines.

Needless to say, the Jap, once in the grip of a Fijian, was given no chance to retrieve this false step.

SOON after the Third Battalion arrived on Bougainville, and before a PX was established in their area, a Fijian private, finding himself short of certain essential articles, wandered across to the nearest American camp and asked the occupant of the first tent he found whether he could lend him a cake of soap and some cigarettes.

The American called an orderly and told him to give the Fijian whatever he needed.

It was not until two full colonels appeared in the tent and saluated that the Fijian realised that he was in the presence of General Griswold, Allied Commander on Bougainville. rE Third Battalion got a great kick out of American newspaper stories which featured the Fijians as “fear less jungle fighters.” Colonel Voelcker tells how, during one of the Battalion’s many sweeps through enemy-held terri tory, its perimeter camp was attacked one night by the Japanese. The first the colonel knew of the assault was the explosion of a hand-grenade within a few feet of his foxhole.

Then he heard his adjutant’s voice, audible above the confusion of auto matic fire and bursting grenades: “Are you awake, sir?”

“Yes,” said the colonel.

“Do you feel like a fearless jungle fighter now, sir?” asked the adjutant.

ARE Fijians tough? Take the case of Private Ropate. During one action on Bougainville three grenades ex ploded in his foxhole. He was blown clean out of it and three fingers on his right hand-including his trigger finger— were shattered.

But Ropate bounced back into his hole and, with the one finger that remained unbroken, kept his Bren gun in action until the Jap assault had been beaten.

THE Fijian has an irrepressible sense of humour and he found the Jap an amusing as well as a sinister foe.

There was, for instance, the little cor poral who was holding a forward Jap position which the Fijians cleaned up after some brisk fighting. The last writ ten message the corporal had received before his death—the Fijians brought it back to camp with other papers and had it translated by an American interpreter read thus' “Corporal X: You are doing great work anc j j will recommenc j you for advance ment. j would give you a cigarette, but I have not got one.—Sergt. Y.”

The Fijians thought it was very cruel to raise the corporal’s hopes so high, only to dash them so rudely.