VIRU HARBOR 1943

 Sea story by Roger Spaulding 4CP[i]

I have discovered that I can recall events of the past best by relaxing in bed with a pillow behind me at the end of the day when things are quiet and nothing remains to be done that can’t wait until tomorrow.

Three weeks before our trek to Viru harbor the Fourth Raider Battalion was still at Espiritu Santo in the Hebrides islands training for the event. Unexpectantly one day, our platoon leader, Sgt. Mark Quakenbush called the platoon to formation. He explained a proposed mission that had to do with assassinating a sentry post near Segi Point, a small tip of land surrounded by swamps at the south end of New Georgia island still held by a British coastwatcher. Australian Mr. Kennedy had radioed for help to get rid of this threat on the other side of the swamps. The sentry post was also a threat to the success of our intended raid on the submarine port of Viru harbor. It was felt that two Raiders could penetrate the Japanese sentry post and destroy it. Brian Gibson and I were picked out of the several who volunteered. We practiced for the quiet assassination using thin piano wire on strands of green coconuts. The wire whipped around the green coconuts which were about the size of a Jap’s head, then with a swift pull, the cord attached to the nut was severed like a neck.

 Both Gibson and I were Tommy gun carriers in Homer Huffstutter’s second squad. The plan was for Gibson and I to go ashore before the APD’s approached Segi, go by native guide to the Jap Sentry post and do the job before the sentry could alert the main Japanese forces about our task force being on the way. But when we saw small fires along the black shoreline we approached, we knew there was no need to wipe out the sentry position and I had a chance to relax along with the other 400 Raiders entering New Georgia for the first time. I later found out the Japanese sentry post had been abandoned shortly before we arrived. We all landed and were soon bunked down on the ground for some sleep, ever grateful that our landing was unopposed without harm to the Raiders, all due to the excellent seamanship of the APD’s and to the planning and action taken by the native men under Mr. Kennedy. It was a very quiet landing.

 The next day after breakfast, Capt. Tony Walker led our platoon on a brief scouting mission along the swamp to a tiny village called Nazareth. Along the way we spotted some of Kennedy’s natives stationed in huge trees with captured Japanese Nambu machine guns, probably placed there to assist us and to spy out ahead any problems. The natives were seen by us only because they allowed themselves to be seen, and clearly so that we Raiders would know that anyone in the trees that day were friendly. Otherwise the natives blended perfectly into the foliage impossible to see.

The trail we took going out soon became slippery and hard to travel and on the way back to Segi after a negative patrol, I saw for the first time the split toe foot prints of the Japanese who had been along the trail after we had passed. We were wearing the tennis shoes that were tested by the Fourth Battalion at Viru and it was scary to see a Marine footprint stepped across by a Japanese foot print. Somewhere out in that hostile swamp there were Japanese who knew we were here. But their numbers were probably far too small for them to engage us.

 The third night ashore, we assembled in the quiet lagoon waters for the raid on Viru. Fifty assorted boats gathered in the darkness, mostly rubber boats and were boarded by the Raiders and about 30 natives. Heavy equipment like the radio and mortar shells were loaded on a magnificent native canoe which carried 20 men, mostly native paddlers and the native sergeant. Some Raiders remained at the plantation along with Mr. Kennedy to guard the station and provide a radio relay station for the operation.

 Under the mangrove trees at times and under the brilliant stars, we paddled until well past midnight and finally landed at a tiny village where huts had been built above the water on stilts. We pushed our rubber boats through the mud and pig pens below and between the huts and moved on up to dry land. The boats were quickly pulled back on the water and tied to each other where they were towed back to Segi before sunup. We tried to eradicate any evidence of our passing by wiping the mud behind ourselves and praying there would be a heavy rain before dawn to conceal any evidence of our passing, but it did not rain, and the Japanese did find our tracks and a small patrol did harm to the natives because of our passing even though the natives participated not at all, either for or against us. Truly hapless innocents of the war.

 The few hours of darkness left to us before we tackled the swamp were spent in sleep to rest up after the rigorous paddling of the past hours and to dry out and ease our raw asses from the wet straddling of the boats and butt twisting action of the paddling.

 As miserable as was the edge of the swamp outside the village, the place was a garden of Eden compared with what we went through the next four days.. Mud was ankle to knee deep all the way. Every step was slippery and the muscular action required of our bodies to stay afoot was exhausting. The farther back in the column a Raider was the harder he had to go. Hundreds of feet stirred up the mud and made it deeper as we went. Then too, the rains came and went and the trail became a long necklace of small, deep mud puddles. Rivers were almost welcome for it was a time to cool off and rinse off the muck. We crossed one river, the Choi, at least three times as we went in sort of a straight line but the river coiled like snake through the jungle. At each crossing the banks were a special hardship because the entry and exit slopes on the banks became a mud pit waist deep which had to be crossed for several feet before the bank dropped off into shoulder deep water. Only Raiders who were close to six feet tall could cross with head above water. Shorter Raiders were lifted by the man in front and behind to keep their heads up. Rifles, machine guns and BAR’s were hoisted above our heads to keep out the mud and water. All else went under water, packs, bullets and all. Things like cigarettes, matches and coffee grounds were tied tightly in rubberized pouches to keep dry and usable.

 One small creek we crossed had a milky color, white mixed with the brown-red of the soil as if a mineral deposit was washing into the creek from the rain. I saw a 4 ft long lizard laying on a tree trunk, apparently asleep as we passed.

 About mid-morning the first day, the rear of the column was ambushed by the Japanese with a small patrol about equal to the number of Raiders cut off at the rear. A brief fierce fire fight broke out and soon ended with almost 20 Japs and five Raiders killed. Steve Klos was wounded, shot through the knee and was carried along by the marines with help from the natives clear to Viru. Sgt. John Sudro was able to get the survivors of the ambush back along the trail to Segi where we all joined up again at Guadalcanal. The incident of the ambush caused the whole column to halt for three hours and since most Raiders had nothing else to do, watches were posted and the men slept.

 We stayed on the trail until well after dark the third night. We were running behind schedule almost a day and Col. Mike Currin pushed us to the limit that day to get closer to Viru. The attack was to be on the morning after the third night on the trail. We began to lose contact with each other in the utter blackness of the jungle, and finally word was passed to place rotten leaves on the back of our packs -- leaves found in dank places on the ground which glowed with a green-white phosphorous light that could be seen by a man behind. This worked perfectly and for three hours that night the Raiders were an eerie string of green spots moving quietly through the wet jungle. Some of the globs of rotting leaves glowed so brightly we could see the outline of our bare hands in the darkness.

 My Company separated from the main column just before the last night. We were to go westward on a new trail and attack a small post across from the main Viru village where the Japanese were reported to be equipped enough to fire on any of our ships coming info the harbor. We could not have this happen. The opening must be safe when we finished our attack. We could not afford to have relief ships hindered from coming to us after the battle. There would be wounded to care for and supplies to sustain ourselves. We camped down for the rest of the night only a few yards from this Japanese position. There we rested and waited for dawn.

 Preparatory to combat, we cleaned our weapons at first light that morning, stripping them down to get out all the mud and crap that could cause a misfire, but the Ml rifle could shoot even when badly muddied. The evening before we attacked, Ivan Shurts, who carried a Johnson Automatic rifle had stripped it down even to removing the barrel. At this point there in the darkness, the bullet in the breech fired with a puny bang, since there was no barrel for the lead to follow. This caused moments of great concern, but no enemy action was detected anywhere along the line. Ivan felt so badly about the accident that he volunteered to be on the point of the column heading the attack, since he felt we had lost the precious element of surprise. Capt. Walker paid no heed to Ivan’s gesture since plans had already been made for the assault, so as soon as it got light enough, we charged the Japanese position. It looked more like a simple native village, which it was since the Japs had not been there long enough to fortify and place cannon. The fight didn’t last very long and after the fury died down I saw my first dead Jap. He was laying on his back with his own bayonet in his belly, his fingers curled toward the blade as if trying to remove it. His face was a yellow-green, like he was alive and in shock.

 Our squad was detailed to secure the perimeter and sweep out any outlying Japs in the area. As we carefully moved abreast through the jungle I spotted a gathering of coral rocks that looked new and among them there was a human head, a Jap head watching but seeing nothing as yet. I guessed the position to be a hastily made, above ground foxhole using coral gathered up from nearby. I raised my Tommy gun to fire, but someone cautioned me that Huffstutter had shot the Jap already, but he looked to me like he was breathing hard and in lots of stress. I told Homer the Jap was still alive and Homer told me to finish him off. I fired a long burst and chunks of flesh flew around the rocks and the Jap stopped breathing.

 A few minutes after this, a squad of our Wildcat Avenger airplanes swooped down and bombed close by as ordered. Luckily they did no damage to either us or the Japs, but I heard later that on the other side of the harbor where the rest of the battalion was fighting, the planes had to be stopped by a corpsman who got on top of a native grass shack and laid out a sign on the roof saying “Marines Here” using white bandages. Later on a group of Japs boarded a barge and tried to get across the bay to the other side where they thought they would be safe, but our machine gunners caught the barge out in the water and thoroughly riddled it with nary a survivor to go ashore when it beached on the other side.

 That afternoon there were LCI’s and one LST inside the harbor whose crews opened up all their lockers and gave us the food, clothing, soap and water and all the other things we so desperately needed to become civilized again

  BIAROKO

This account is just a few thoughts and memories I have about the battle of Biaroko. I shouldn’t cause any “flak” or controversy about this accounting. The battle has always been a thorn in my side, because I don’t like losing or getting whipped, but I don’t feel any personal vendetta as it was always ingrained in us to work as a unit and not as personal thrusts. (Biaroko was more of an infantry encounter than a raid.)

 We landed at Enogai Inlet a good mile north of Biaroko where we reinforced the First Raiders who had captured that position and knocked out all the shore guns the Japs had pointed seaward. A few nights, two or three were passed getting ready for the assault on Biaroko, nights when a lone Jap airplane, “piss call charlie”, came over with his single engine plane and dropped a bomb or two. This was a most interesting experience to lay there under the jungle canopy under the star studded sky and listen as the plane which took off from Kolombangara slowly flew to us and circled a bit to be sure where he was, then cut his engine to glide down, then to “dive” and drop his bomb. It was scary to listen as the engine cut out and the sky became quiet for a few