The First & Fourth Raiders at Enogai-Bairoko
Part Two

In the night of July 12-13, just after midnight, Guadalcanal campaign veterans who were awake once again saw the distant flashes and heard the rolling thunder of a naval battle such as they had come to associate with reinforcement runs by the Tokyo Express. Later they would learn that an Allied force of three cruisers and 10 destroyers had intercepted a Japanese convoy of four transports escorted by several destroyers and a light cruiser. In the ensuing melee, enemy torpedoes sank the American destroyer Gwin and damaged two American cruisers, the Honolulu and St. Louis, and the New Zealand cruiser Leander. We also had two destroyers damaged in a collision. The Japanese lost their single cruiser, the Jintsu, but nevertheless managed to land 1,200 troops on Kolombangara in what turned out to be the last Kula Gulf run by the Tokyo Express.

With Munda now under heavy attack, it seemed illogical to Colonel Liversedge that the Japanese would not attempt to move reinforcements by barge from Kolombangara to Bairoko; thence overland to Munda. Schultz’s reports, however, at least those that got through, indicated a surprising lack of enemy activity. Disturbed by this ominous quiet on the Bairoko-Munda trail, Liversedge sent his operations officer, Lieutenant Colonel Joseph J, McCaffery, on a staff visit to Schultz’s battalion to gather first-hand information on the situation there. McCaffery left Triri early on the thirteenth, accompanied by part of the regimental staff and Company ‘K,” 145th Infantry, and arrived late in the afternoon. After touring the position, McCaffery reported that, contrary to rumor, it was tactically sound and everything was “okay,” although the troops needed rations badly.

The only message that got through to Liversedge; however, was the one that said “Okay;” and, disturbed by the continuing lack of reliable communications, hence information, he decided to go see for himself. Departing his command post at Enogai on the fifteenth with a small patrol, Liversedge spent the night on the trail and arrived at Schultz’s position early on the sixteenth. One day at the trail block was enough to convince him that the position should be abandoned, it apparently having served its purpose, and he ordered Schultz to move his force to Triri on the seventeenth.

The withdrawal couldn’t have come at a better time for the soldiers. Aside from being just plain bushed from two weeks of living in the jungle, many were ill from incipient malaria, from eating contaminated food, or from eating no food; consequently, about half of Schultz’s 700 or so men were combat ineffective. At Triri, they received clean clothes to replace their rags, bathed, ate a few good meals, and had a chance to rest and relax, albeit only briefly.

The defense of the trail block had cost Schultz’s battalion 11 men killed in action and 31 wounded, and the Japanese suffered an estimated 150 casualties; however, whether or not the trail block “served its purpose” is moot. Undoubtedly the very presence of Schultz’s battalion on the southern approaches to Bairoko prevented the Japanese from utilizing their full strength to defend Enogai and thereby eased the way for the 1st Raiders. The primary purpose of the trail block, however, had been to prevent the movement of reinforcements through Bairoko to Munda, and in this it apparently failed.

At night, from July 9-13, the entire Japanese 13th Infantry Regiment of about 4,000 men crossed from Kolombangara to Bairoko by barge. Two battalions continued on to Munda, bypassing Schultz’s trail block undetected, except for the apparently inadvertent encounter on the tenth. But about half of the 2d Battalion, a machine gun company, and a signal section remained at Bairoko as part of the harbor defense force under the operational command of Commander Saburo Okumura, IJN, commander of the Kure 6th SNLF. Okumura’s preoccupation with the arrival of the reinforcements at Bairoko and their onward movement to Munda probably explains why the 1st Raiders were undisturbed by a counter attack on the night of July 9-10. Soon, however, the enemy would make up for this oversight.

During the period July 13-17. reconnaissance and combat patrols from the 1st Raiders, now somewhat rested and better fed, actively scouted the approaches to Bairoko and observed enemy activity in the harbor area. Several patrols reported seeing working parties constructing bunkers and digging trenches on the high ground east of the harbor, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that the enemy intended to defend Bairoko. In the not infrequent clashes with enemy patrols during this period, four Raiders lost their lives: Private John A. Woerl of Company “A” on the fourteenth; Private, first class, Frank E. Elliott of Headquarters Company on the sixteenth; and private Harold J. Thompson of Company “D” on the seventeenth. In the clash that cost the life of Private Thompson, Private, first class, Wade L. Shull of Company “D” received wounds from which he died on the twenty-third.

The increased reconnaissance activity by Liversedge’s Raiders, however, indicated to the Japanese that an attack on Bairoko was imminent, and additional units were quickly sent to bolster Okumura’s defense of their only remaining escape route from New Georgia. The reinforcements comprised most of the 2d Battalion, 45th Infantry and the 8th Battery of the 6th Field Artillery Regiment, both recently arrived from Bougainville, and brought the strength of the garrison to about 1,400 men.

Colonel Liversedge, of course, had no inkling that strong reinforcements had moved into Bairoko and based his operational planning on the original estimate of 500 men divided between Bairoko and Enogai. The 350 Japanese killed at Triri and Enogai had been identified as being from the Kure 6th SNLF, and Schultz’s attackers, although not identified, were also believed to have been from the Bairoko garrison. Thus, simple arithmetic (erroneously, it turned out) told Liversedge that Bairoko was now defended by about two reinforced rifle companies. Apparently no one correlated the extensive entrenchments east of the harbor with the size of a unit that might occupy them; hence when the Raiders attacked they soon discovered that they had a tiger by the tail rather than the expected pussy cat.

The unreliability of communications with higher headquarters had been a constant stumbling block to Liversedge throughout the entire operation, and on the eve of the attack on Bairoko it was even more so. Accordingly, in an attempt to ameliorate matters, he sent his communications officer, Major William D. Stevenson, and his air liaison officer, Lieutenant George Rounds, USN, to Guadalcanal on July 11 to brief Admiral Turner and his staff on the situation of the Northern Landing Group.

Stevenson conferred with Admiral Turner for almost two hours, during which he made strong representation for the earliest possible dispatch of the 4th Raiders to Enogai and for better logistics and communications support. He, in turn, was closely questioned on the details of the tactical situation, communications, morale, and logistical matters. After hearing Stevenson’s responses, Turner agreed to send the 4th Raiders out at the earliest possible date and promised to send a communications team with a powerful TBW radio to Enogai. He also directed his staff to correct deficiencies in the supplies that had been air-dropped several days before.

Stevenson made his trip to Guadalcanal pay off in other ways as well, as he brought back critically needed supplies and the best thing a Raider in the field could ever get—his mail. Great men always seem to think of others: upon his return to the 1st Raiders on Guadalcanal in September, 1942, Major Bailey had also brought several bags of mail.

Upon returning to Triri on the seventeenth, Liversedge received the good news that Currin’s 4th Raider Battalion was enroute from Guadalcanal and would rejoin his force on the following day. Early in the morning of the first, four APDs hove to off Enogai Point and began unloading Currin’s Raiders and the supplies and ammunition they had brought with them. Although pleased to have the 4th Raider Battalion back under his command, Liversedge was somewhat nonplused when Currin reported to him that the battalion was about 200 Raiders understrength. He had been expecting a full-strength battalion, but his disappointment notwithstanding, accepted Currin’s reassurances that the few days rest had worked wonders for the 4th Raiders and they could perform at full capacity.

On the other hand., the 1st Raider Battalion had taken several casualties and was somewhat battered from its recent actions; so battered, in fact, that Griffith felt that not one of his companies had enough men to operate effectively as a company. Accordingly, he decided to bring Companies “B” and “D” up to near full strength by taking men from Companies “A” and “C” and leaving the remnants of the latter two companies at Enogai when the attack on Bairoko kicked off.

After the troops, ammunition, and other supplies were ashore, Liversedge sent his sick and wounded aboard the APDs for transport to the hospital on Tulagi. Then, with the decks cleared for action, so to speak; with the 1st and 4th Raiders at Enogai and the two infantry battalions at Triri, he felt ready to launch his attack on Bairoko. On the nineteenth, he summoned his battalion commanders to the command post to receive his attack order.

The Northern Landing Group would attack Bairoko in two widely separated columns: on the right, the 1st and 4th Raiders would advance along the Enogai-Bairoko trail to attack the enemy’s left flank; on the left, the 3d Battalion, 148th Infantry, would advance along the Triri-Bairoko trail against the enemy’s right flank. The 3d Battalion, 145th Infantry and the remnants of Companies “A” and “C,” 1st Raiders, would constitute the reserve and provide security for the bases at Enogai, Triri, and Rice Anchorage. An air strike was planned for 0900 on the twentieth, just a few minutes prior to the anticipated time of the assault on the enemy line. Both columns would depart their base camps at 0730 on the twentieth.

After receiving their orders, the battalion commanders returned to their units to complete the details of their own operation plans and to brief their company commanders. The 1st Raiders, being very familiar with the approaches to Bairoko, has been designated to head the right column, with Ed Wheeler’s Company “B” at the point. Company “D” (once again commanded by First Lieutenant Frank A. Kemp since Captain Boyd’s evacuation with malaria) would be next, followed by the Demolitions Platoon. The 4th Raiders would bring up the rear. In the afternoon of the nineteenth, a reinforced platoon from Company “B” under the command of Second Lieutenant William J. Christie moved across Leland Lagoon and onto the sandspit to get into position to protect the right flank when the advance began the next morning.

At 1600, the Raiders were heartened to hear the sounds of friendly planes striking Japanese positions in and around Bairoko. A mixed force of dive bombers, torpedo bombers, and medium bombers pounded enemy fortifications, supply dumps, and bivouac areas for the fourth time since July 15, however, subsequent events would indicate that these attacks were not as effective as reasonably could have been expected. That night the enemy retaliated and subjected Enogai to bombing and strafing attacks all night long. Fortunately there were no deaths, but 10 Raiders were wounded.

After a mostly sleepless night, the Raiders were up at dawn, preparing for the attack on Bairoko. Although rations were now plentiful, most of the men settled for a D-ration chocolate bar and a canteen cup of instant coffee brewed over an open fire. From time to time a cry of pain and muttered curses could be heard as a Raider, momentarily forgetting that the rolled aluminum edge of the canteen cup stayed hot much longer than the liquid in the cup, blistered his lips on the hot metal. Throughout the camp, the closing clash of spring driven rifle and machine gun bolts could be heard as Raiders, leaving nothing to chance, double-checked their weapons for proper functioning. Ammunition clips and belts were checked to make sure that no round was improperly seated so as to cause a jam. Finally, the word was passed. “Saddle up” and the men shouldered their loads and fell in with their units.

Although the Bairoko trail had been well scouted in the week following the capture of Enogai, this foreknowledge did not make the going any easier. Once again the Raiders found themselves in a miserable situation that had become almost routine: slogging through thick jungle, scrabbling up the slopes of extremely rugged hills and tobogganing down the back sides, usually into mangrove swamps; slipping and sliding in the stinking mud; tripping over hidden roots and falling onto sharp outcroppings of coral or basalt. In this manner, inch by agonizing inch, the long column snaked its way toward Bairoko.

After about an hour and a half on the trail, the men began to strain to hear the explosions that would signal the beginning of the requested air strike on Bairoko; however, they would listen in vain. There would be no air strike. At 1600 on the nineteenth, Colonel Liversedge had submitted to the Commander, Aircraft, Solomons (ComAir-Sols), his request for an air strike on Bairoko at 0900 on the twentieth. Although receipt of the request was acknowledged, the strike itself was never confirmed. Apparently some ever-nameless air operations officer, adhering rigidly to a policy that requests for air support had to be received by 1600 on the day before execution, took no action on the request. A less generous soul probably would have attributed the screw-up to some staff aviator’s determination not to let the war interfere with his “happy hour.”

In any event, Liversedge did not know about the ComAirSols policy and undoubtedly assumed, as any other ground commander would have under similar circumstances, that supporting arms would be responsive to the exigencies of the tactical situation. After all, the Japanese were not going to stop fighting to conform to the ComAirSols policy, as well the Raiders knew. That fact, however, apparently had not figured in the formulation of the ComAirSols policy, and now Liversedge’s men would have to do the job the Raider way: on sheer guts.

Shortly before 1000, native scouts with Wheeler’s point spotted a four-man enemy outpost about 800 yards northeast of Bairoko. The natives were sent to the rear, and the 1st Raiders quickly deployed to engage the enemy. Some 15 minutes later the outpost had been eliminated and Griffith’s Raiders were deployed facing southwest, with Ed Wheeler’s Company “B” on the right and Frank Kemp’s Company “D” on the left. Christie’s platoon could be seen at this time about 300 yards east of the head of Leland Lagoon.

The advance continued against ever increasing resistance, and at about 1045, Griffith informed Liversedge that he was facing several machine guns but was still advancing, albeit slowly. Soon, the battalion ran head-on into machine guns housed in well camouflaged, log-and-coral bunkers and protected by snipers firing from trees as well as from ground positions. At this point, in the Raiders’ words, “all hell broke loose,” as the enemy unleashed a heavy volume of close-range, deadly accurate fire.

Initially driven to cover by the hurricane of fire, the Raiders quickly recovered and began to reply in kind. By this time, Christie’s platoon also was engaged in a heavy firefight on the sandspit, but when Wheeler tried to reach him to provide support, the enemy fire was so heavy his Raiders could not move. On the left, Kemp’s company managed to build up marginal fire superiority and inched forward slowly. As casualties began to mount, the advance stopped in some places and slowed to a crawl in others. To protect the exposed left flank of Company “D,” Griffith committed his only reserve, Angus Goss’s Demolitions Platoon, and at a few minutes past 1100, after only 15 or so minutes of vicious battle, informed Liversedge: “Harry, I have committed the works . . . . Movement forward continues.”

As soon as Goss moved his Raiders into position, they also came under intense fire from their left; however, the Raider line pushed ahead relentlessly. By noon the enemy outpost line crumbled, and the Japanese withdrew to their main line of resistance, a series of four lines of defensive works located on coral ridges parallel to and from 300 to 500 yards east of the harbor.

Now the lack of heavy supporting arms began to be felt acutely, as the Raiders were compelled to attack the mutually supporting enemy emplacements with small arms fire and demolitions. Henry Poppell’s diary entry for July 20 provides a poignant description of the action:

We keep moving forward against very heavy machine gun ,fire. . . for a few minutes & then mortars [9Omm] begin to bark. We are low but the Nips have found the range and they are pounding us mercilessly. Each shell seems to get five or six men. The struggle has become a seesaw battle. If we only had air support or a little artillery. We can’t even bring our mortars [6Omm] into action due to the heavy bush . . . .

At this time, around 1230, Liversedge attempted to reach Schultz to direct him to support Griffith with his 81mm mortars; however, he could not get through by radio or telephone—even to the base at Enogai. Lieutenant Colonel Freer’s 3d Battalion, 145th Infantry, at Triri had 81mm mortars and could have been in firing position within a couple of hours, had Liversedge been able to communicate with them. This, of course, begs the question: Why hadn’t these 81mm mortars been assigned to direct support of the Raiders from the beginning instead of being left idle at Triri?

After failing to get through to Schultz and with the 1st Raiders in desperate need of support, Liversedge committed Currin’s Raiders into the battle line on Griffith’s left. Tony Walker’s Company “P.” having headed the 4th Raiders’ march column, was immediately available for commitment and was ordered to pass through Goss’s Demolitions Platoon and attack to the southwest to the inlet, then north against the enemy right flank. Captain Earl Snell’s Company “N” would follow close behind “P” to support its attack and cover the exposed left flank. To make room for the 4th Raiders, Goss’s platoon was shifted from Kemp’s left flank to his right, into the gap that had opened between Companies “D” and “B.”

Advancing into the teeth of a hurricane of machine gun fire, Walker’s Company drove back the Japanese who had been causing Company “D” so much grief and pushed to within 500 or so yards of the harbor. At that point the company came under intense machine-gun fire from high ground to its left front, and Company “N” was committed to cover Walker’s exposed flanks. As Tony Walker describes the action:

We attacked and broke the Jap outpost line. Earl Snell’s company followed us and soon moved up to cover both our open flanks. We pushed on, taking casualties from unseen enemy machine guns and rifles, finally reaching a ridgeline just in front of the enemy s main line of resistance. There I held the company up to reorganize. Lieutenant Colonel Sam Griffith of the 1st Raiders came up to our position and told me to hold the company there.

Our attack at Bairoko was a thing of beauty. The company started out with a rebel yell that scared hell out of everyone within earshot, friend and foe. The Raiders of P Company kept going until I ordered them to stop at the ridge. If Colonel Griffith had not held us up, many [more] of us would have died trying to break the enemy main line. The reason for Griffith’s action was the fact that we had already suffered many casualties.

Walker’s attack carried a small ridge that had dominated the left of the Raider line and was within 200 yards of the right flank of the enemy main line of resistance. The effort, however, had cost dearly. Second Lieutenant Curtis A. Tatum of Company “N” was killed by machine gun fire as he led his platoon into line on the flank of Company “P.” Soon thereafter, Captain Smell was wounded and put out of action. Captain Walker also was badly wounded but remained at his post, commanding not only his own company but also the two platoons of Company “N” on his flanks. Commenting on the severity of the Raider losses that afternoon, Tony Walker noted: “I never saw a dead Jap all afternoon. Only dead Marines.”

In the meantime, every effort by Wheeler’s Company “B” to link up with Christie’s platoon on the sandspit had failed. At least six enemy machine guns firing from bunkers had stopped the advance of the two platoons still under Wheeler’s control, and Christie, facing a marshy area backed by seven enemy machine guns also was stymied. Elsewhere, however, the advance by Walker’s and Smell’s companies had relieved some of the pressure on Kemp’s left flank platoon, and his Raiders had resumed their slow, steady advance.

Liversedge still had no communications with Schultz, either radio or telephone, and his urgent need for counter-mortar fire from Schultz’s 81mm mortars as well as his growing concern for the soldiers’ well-being finally induced him to send Joe McCaffery, his operations officer, with a small patrol to locate the battalion and to impress on Schultz the urgency of the situation on the right flank. The patrol was instructed to repair the telephone line enroute, and McCaffery would pick up Company “K,” 145th Infantry, at Triri and lead it to Schultz’s position. ‘Company “L,” 145th Infantry, would move to Enogai. The quickest way to Schultz’s position was back over the rugged trail to Enogai, then by boat to Triri, and from Triri over another rugged trail to the battalion’s position. This trip, however, was not a matter of just a few minutes, rather it would take hours.

McCaffery departed the command post at 1345, and a few minutes later Company “D,” although shot through with casualties, bulled its way through the first two of the enemy defensive lines and gained the crest of a ridge overlooking Bairoko, about 300 yards away. Kemp’s left flank platoon, however, now came under extremely heavy machine-gun fire from the enemy third line of defense. The number of casualties grew at an alarming rate, and Company “D” lost contact with Company “P” on its left. Liversedge, hoping to strengthen Kemp’s hold on the ridge, committed Ray Luckel’s Company “0” to fill the gap and to knock out the machine guns in that area.

When Luckel’s company advanced, enemy fire on Companies “P” and “N” had slackened, permitting them to seize the small ridge overlooking the right of the enemy main line of resistance. Meanwhile, Kemp’s Raiders were attempting to move on from the second ridge, and Wheeler had been able to advance a few yards. Griffith reported that a gap still remained between Wheeler’s right flank and Christie’s platoon but believed some small, additional support could close it. Concurring in this request, Liversedge sent a reinforced platoon from Company “0” under First Lieutenant Leonard W. Alford to close the gap. Although they made a gallant attack, Alford’s Raiders were stopped short. His move did, however, bring the advancing lines closer to Christie’s position.

Shortly after Alford’s attack, the heretofore sporadic but deadly accurate enemy mortar fire suddenly increased in volume to a heavy barrage concentrated along the Raider front lines. Most of the shells burst overhead in the jungle canopy, thereby enhancing their fragmentation effect and producing many casualties. The barrage was followed almost immediately by a typical Japanese counterattack: hordes of screaming soldiers running at full tilt and firing on the run from rifles with fixed bayonets held overhead. The main thrust of the attack was against the Company “D” position, and Kemp’s Raiders were forced to withdraw to the first ridge they had captured.

Quickly reorganizing his badly depleted company, however, Kemp launched a vicious counterattack that drove the enemy from the ridge and restored the line. The Japanese, apparently surprised, and certainly overwhelmed by the Raiders’ almost immediate reaction, broke and fled the area, many of them without their weapons. Company “D,” however, was now so small and weak that pursuit, except by fire, was out of the question. This was the first crack in the Japanese defenses, and Griffith, then located with Tony Walker on the left of the Raider line, believed that just one more company could carry the battle. “One more company,” however, was not soon to be had.

A few minutes before 1500, Liversedge had ordered Captain Lincoln N. Holdzkom’s Company “Q,” the last uncommitted company, into position behind the left of the 4th Raiders’ line, leaving only about half of the 4th Raiders’ Demolition Platoon and the regimental headquarters personnel to protect the command post and the aid station. Hope for further reinforcement faded at around 1500, when Liversedge received a telephone message from Enogai, relaying information that Shultz’s battalion had been hit 3,400 yards from Triri. About 15 minutes later a message from Schultz himself, again relayed through Enogai, advised that he had met the enemy three and one-half miles down the trail and was attacking. Then at 1600, Schultz called directly to report that he could not contact the Raiders before dark. There would be no help from Schultz.

Likewise, there would be no immediate help from Freer’s 3d Battalion, 145th Infantry. His Company “K” was enroute to Schultz’s position, and Company “L” was even then enroute to the front lines, bringing critically needed blood plasma, rations, and ammunition, but it could not possibly arrive for another two hours or more. The rest of Freer’s battalion was guarding supplies at Rice and Triri, while the remnants of Griffith’s Companies “A” and “C” held the base at Enogai. Obviously, the final outcome of the battle for Bairoko would be decided by those forces then in contact.

By about 1600, the Raiders had driven the Japanese into a pocket 300 yards wide and 800 yards long, with their backs to Bairoko Harbor. They were, however, by no means defeated, and their mortars and machine guns continued to fire at a furious rate, with no signs of easing up. Liversedge’s Raiders, however, were now on the verge of exhaustion. They had been in continuous combat for six hours or more, were running low on ammunition, and had already suffered almost 200 casualties, killed and wounded. Could these weary men muster the strength for one final and decisive blow that could gain for them the victory? Liversedge thought so, and shortly after 1600, he ordered Holdzkom’s Company “Q” to attack around the left flank of Company “N” directly against the right of the enemy pocket.

With Companies “N” and “P” providing a base of fire, Holdzkom led his Raiders around the left flank of the line and into the very face of a devastating torrent of fire from the enemy positions. Although they attacked with great vigor and extraordinary heroism, Holdzkom’s men didn’t have a chance. Without the support of artillery, air, and other heavy weapons, sheer guts proved ineffective against the well entrenched enemy. Within a matter of a very few moments, the company was shattered and forced to retire. Perhaps the intensity of this short engagement is best illustrated by the citation that accompanied the award of the Distinguished Service Cross to Private Olin M. Gray:

. . . for extraordinary heroism at Bairoko Harbor, New Georgia, Solomon Islands, on 20 July 1943. After all the other men in his machine-gun squad had been either killed or wounded, Private Gray, on his own imitative, took over the gun and manned it single-handedly with spectacular daring and zeal during the entire action. He repeatedly exposed himself purposely to the Japanese and boldly invited fire so that their gun positions would be divulged. These challenging tactics netted him the discovery and destruction of two enemy machine-gun nests. During a withdrawal, he covered the rear elements of his company and was the last man to leave the area.

As the Company “Q” Raiders strove to accomplish the impossible, firing on the other fronts dwindled almost to nothing. Captain Wheeler, hoping to exploit the lull, requested reinforcements so he could make one final attempt to break the enemy left, but no reinforcements were to be had. The major effort for his company now became one of evacuating the wounded who were unable to evacuate themselves.

With the attack now stalled on all fronts; casualties of over 250 killed and wounded (almost one-third of the force) and another 150 men tied up evacuating stretcher cases; his men physically exhausted, low on ammunition, and out of water; and no hope of immediate assistance, Liversedge must have sensed that the game was lost. Nevertheless, he sent Griffith to reconnoiter the front and recommend to him a course of action. After walking the entire line and conferring with Currin, his fellow battalion commander, and each company commander, Griffith made the only recommendation that was sensible under the circumstances. Short and to the point, it was: “Withdraw”.

At 1630, Griffith stood with Kemp and some of his Raiders on the ridge for which they had fought so hard—not once but twice—and gazed out over the battlefield. The harbor was only 300 yards away, but it might as well have been on the moon. Most of the Raiders had attacked continuously for seven murderous hours against a numerically superior, better armed, and well entrenched enemy. Even the wounded had struggled forward as long as they could walk, and when they could no longer walk they crawled. But there is a limit to how long flesh and blood can prevail over fire and steel, and Liversedge’s Raiders obviously had reached that limit. Victory had been ever so close, but “close” only counts in horseshoes. Now, with his men exhausted, their units depleted, and a large number of wounded Raiders to evacuate to safety, Liversedge regretfully concurred in Griffith’s recommendation and ordered a withdrawal.

Shortly after 1700, Raiders from the battalion and regimental headquarters companies fabricated crude but workable litters from ponchos and tree limbs and evacuated about 90 non-ambulatory wounded from the ridgeline to relative safety in the rear. Behind the stretchers came the walking wounded, a pathetic file of bloody. old-young men who had chosen to remain in the fight in spite of their wounds. After the wounded were clear, the companies began to withdraw, bringing back the weapons of dead Raiders and helping the walking wounded who had elected to remain with their companies. With Companies “N” and “P” (now commanded by First Lieutenants Connors and McCarthy, respectively) holding the front, Company ‘Q’ pulled out of the line first. Next came Companies “0” and “D” and then Company “B.” Christie’s platoon, still on the sandspit. pulled back slightly and prepared to defend that flank.

At 1715, Liversedge telephoned Schultz to apprise him of the withdrawal decision and directed him to hold where he was for the night and to leave for Triri at first light. Ostensibly, this turn of events surprised the Army battalion commander, who was unaware of the Raiders’ casualties and whose appreciation of enemy capabilities was based solely on his own experience. He had been held up the entire day by two enemy machine guns that had cost him a total of three dead and 10 wounded. Some of the Raiders, especially those around the headquarters with wider access to information, had begun to wonder about Schultz. In his diary entry for July 20, Henry Poppell noted:

. . . Hours pass and no word from Dutch Schultz and his Army troops . . . This is the first time we have ever operated in conjunction with the Army and too this is the first time in over twenty engagements that we have faced the Nips that we failed to take our objective. We know not the reason for Schultz’s failure to close the gap and hope tomorrow will bring us word that he is intact anyway.. . . .

            At 1745, First Lieutenant George E. Leppig, the regimental adjutant, set out for Enogai with 80 walking wounded. With most of them still carrying their weapons and only light security ahead, the bloody, battered looking Raiders stumbled along the trail, their dungarees now looking like a hobo’s rags, but their faces showing a grim determination to climb “one more hill” that lay ahead. After about 30 minutes on the trail (at their pace), they met up with Company “L,” 145th Infantry, headed to the Raiders’ position with badly needed medical supplies and water. Unlike other such meetings between different units or different services, there was no banter, good-natured or otherwise, on this occasion. The two columns passed one another in almost total silence, the Raiders too numb to care, and the infantrymen shocked out of any tendency toward levity by the Marines’ appearance.

At 1830 the column of infantry-men arrived at the perimeter and, after dropping off the supplies they carried, moved directly into the lines to reinforce the Raiders. As darkness fell over the jungle, the men settled into their shallow foxholes to await whatever the night might bring. With their backs to Bairoko Harbor and therefore capable of being reinforced by barge from the sea, the Japanese posed a formidable threat to the security of the Northern Landing Group. To thwart any enemy counterattack that might interfere with or prevent the orderly withdrawal of his units, Liversedge submitted another request for an air strike, asking for “. . . all available planes to strike both sides of Bairoko Harbor, beginning at 0900. You are covering our withdrawal.”

            The night of July 20-21 was fairly quiet, although the Japanese conducted a small probe of the right flank in the area held by Wheeler’s and Kemp’s Raiders at around 0200. The enemy force was repulsed after a sharp fight that left one Raider dead and nine wounded. The only other enemy activity was by a “duck” that laid two “eggs” in the jungle between the perimeter and Enogai. Otherwise the night was uneventful, except for the doctors and corpsmen, who labored throughout to save the wounded, and for the chaplains, who were always at hand to administer last rites or offer a comforting prayer when medical science was not enough.

The withdrawal began at dawn on the twenty-first, with another group of walking wounded heading for Enogai. They were followed by the rifle companies carrying the stretcher cases and all salvageable equipment. In single file, the stronger Raiders carrying their wounded buddies, the column set out on the treacherous and rugged trail. The enemy made no attempt to interfere with the withdrawal, and at around 0700, an hour or so after the energy-soaking, hard trek began, the column reached the first of four successive phase lines. Here Liversedge called a halt to rest the litter bearers and to give the doctors and corpsmen an opportunity to tend to the wounded. While the weary Raiders rested, a group of Corrigan’s natives arrived with rations and water and, taking some of the stretcher cases, headed back to Enogai.

The column of weary men moved on, halting every 200 yards or so to give the litter bearers a break. Just before 1000, as the column passed the second phase line, the heart-lifting sounds of aircraft bombing and strafing Bairoko Harbor could be heard, and the rest of the way back to Enogai the Raiders “route-stepped” to the music of exploding bombs and strafing machine guns. Indeed, the attack continued until 1710, long after the troops had returned to Enogai, and involved 250 planes—dive bombers, torpedo bombers, medium bombers, fighters—almost everything available in the South Pacific.

This time, there had been no quibble about deadlines; possibly because of the sense of urgency conveyed by the last line of Liversedge’s message; possibly because ComAirSols duty officers, after the earlier mix-up, had received “ethical indoctrination” a la Carlson on matters of tactical exigencies vis-a-vis headquarters policy. But whatever the reason for this sudden air-support largess, many of the Raiders were bothered by the thought: “If we’d had even half this much air support before the attack, we’d have captured Bairoko.”

At 1100, while the column was halted at the third phase line, Captain David N. Marshall’s Company “I,” 145th Infantry, arrived to take over the rear guard, and less than an hour later, at the fourth phase line, 30 natives returned for more stretcher cases. At the same time, Raiders from Companies “A” and “C” arrived in landing craft via Leland Lagoon to pick up the rest of the wounded. (The original plan called for the landing craft to evacuate the casualties right off the beach at Bairoko, after it had been captured. What a difference 300 yards made!) Following these assists, the column picked up the pace and by 1400 had joined the rest of the force already at Enogai. By 1430, Captain Marshall’s company had returned, while Christie’s platoon was still moving down the sandspit.

At 1500, three PBYs arrived and began loading the wounded to fly them to Guadalcanal. Two planes left without difficulty, but at 1630, just as the third PBY became airborne, it was attacked by two Japanese fighters, receiving many hits that wounded two crewmen and a previously wounded Raider and damaged an oil line. The plane was forced to return to Enogai for the night.

At 1700, Christie’s platoon returned to Enogai, and then began the difficult task of accounting for the dead and wounded. Griffith’s 1st Raider Battalion, with only two composite companies in the attack, suffered 19 killed and 62 wounded. Administrative accounting for the 1st Raiders’ losses was not easy because Raiders from Companies “A” and “C” had been placed in Companies “B” and “D,” but were still carried on their own company rolls. For this reason, they are listed here with their company of record rather than that in which they were killed.

Headquarters Company lost Marine Gunner Angus R Goss and Private Calvin L. Selfridge killed in action on July 20 and July 21, respectively.

First Lieutenant William K. Neill and Private, first class, John W. Hunter of Company “A” were killed in action on the twentieth and Private James R. Loshek on the twenty-first.

Losses in Company “B” were Sergeant John B. Holladay; Private, first class, Thomas E. Whitney; and privates Virgil R. Dodson, Jr., and George F. Mock, killed in action on the twentieth; and Private, first class, Audrey 0. Winn, Jr., on the twenty-first.

 Second Lieutenant Alec M. Sim of Company “C” was killed in action on the twenty-first.

Company “D” lost Sergeant James F. Walsh; pharmacist Mate, second class, Thaddeus Parker; Privates, first class. Walter A. Baldiga, Ralph G. Carpenter, John MacLean, and George W. States, Jr.; and Privates Eugene J. Wheeler and George R. Wood, killed in action on the twentieth.

Losses in the 4th Raider Battalion were 28 dead, one missing and presumed dead, and 137 wounded.

Company “N” lost Second Lieutenant Curtis A. Tatum, Corporal Berent L. Larson, Privates, first class, Robert D. Cash, John P. Gardner, Fred Hague, and John 0. Lewis; and Privates Carroll H. Allen, Edward P. Bruck, .Jr., James Reynolds, Jr., and Virgil C. Thornburg on the twentieth. Corporal Roger 0. J. La Rochelle was wounded on the twentieth and died of his wounds on the Twenty-first.

Losses in Company “0” were Corporals Charles S. Easton (posthumously awarded the Army Distinguished Service Cross) and Frank J. Fizur, Jr., and Privates James T. Shuemate and James W. Johnson killed in action on the Twentieth. Corporal Floyd A. Oliver was wounded on the twentieth and died of his wounds on the twenty-first.

Company “P” losses were Sergeant Carl Phillips (posthumously awarded the Army Distinguished Service Cross); Privates, first class, Elzie J. Hancock, William R. Powers, Frank E Troha, and Jefferson D. Watson; and Private John L. Sikken, killed in action on the twentieth.

Company “Q” lost First Lieutenant John R. Corbett (posthumously awarded the Army Distinguished Service Cross); Privates, first class, Walter W. Gibbins, Dale G. Maassen, and William A. Regan (posthumously awarded the Army Distinguished Service Cross); and Privates Gerald L. Ayers (posthumously awarded the Army Distinguished Service Cross), Donald A. Barnes, and Everett Bryant, killed in action on the twentieth. Private, first class, Nicholas J. Gojmerac was missing in action on the twentieth and presumed dead.

The bodies that could be recovered were brought back to Enogai and buried with full military honors alongside their comrades-in-arms in the rapidly growing cemetery.

On July 22, Liversedge received orders to remain in Enogai and Rice Anchorage and patrol actively to prevent enemy troop movement in the area. This was about all the Raiders were fit to do at the moment, nevertheless, there were occasional clashes between our patrols and the enemy with casualties on both sides. One such encounter could easily have cost the lives of Colonel Liversedge and Chaplain Redmond had it not been for the alert reaction of the patrol.

Colonel Liversedge and Father Redmond were with a squad-sized patrol from the 1st Raiders on a reconnaissance in the vicinity of Bairoko. On the way back to camp, the point man heard a suspicious noise in the bush and immediately challenged; “Who’s there?” Just as quickly, a voice responded in unaccented English, “Rites,” at which the Raiders opened up with everything they had. When the shooting stopped and the smoke cleared, a fire team went forward to investigate and found what was left of a small enemy ambush. On one of the bodies they discovered a dog tag belonging to Private, first class, Norton V. Retzch, a Company “C” Raider who had been missing since July 9. Retzch had always insisted on his name being pronounced “Reetz.” and the response “Rites” had been a dead giveaway, literally.

The Japanese reconstructed their defenses on the high ground overlooking Bairoko Harbor, conducted small patrols, and continued to send a plane or two to Enogai each night to harass the Raiders. Allied air and naval forces also became more active. Our bombers pounded Bairoko Harbor on July 23 and 29 and August 2, and on July 24 three destroyers systematically pounded Bairoko with direct fire. In a peaceable, but nevertheless supportive, operation, one of those forever-contributing coastwatchers, in this case Corrigan, built a rest camp for Liversedge’s troops on the beach between Enogai and Rice Anchorage. Company-sized units were sent to the camp for three days’ rest and sleep, undisturbed by the almost nightly bombings, the results of which usually were entered in the regimental journal as: “No casualties, no damage, no sleep.”

On July 26, a patrol consisting of 10 men from each the 1st and 4th Raiders, 20 soldiers, and 30 natives under the command of Captain Mullahey of Company “A,” 1st Raiders, departed Enogai on a long-range reconnaissance. The mission of the patrol was to map a route between Enogai and Munda and to determine the location and extent of enemy activity in the area. After spending a week in the very midst of large concentrations of Japanese troops, gathering information on their strength and activities, the patrol made its way to Roviana Lagoon and was transported from there to Rendova, via Zanana beach. After debriefing at Headquarters, New Georgia Occupation Force, the Raiders were transported to Guadalcanal and on August 13 embarked aboard a transport headed for New Caledonia, arriving on August 16—almost 3 weeks before the rest of the 1st and 4th Raiders returned.

Copyright:  ReView Publications