1943

Chapter 22

They had come a long way from that last night in San Francisco. Sergeant Wilson still remembered getting into a brawl at a bar and throwing a beer bottle at a sailor who was riding him about good old home country, Texas, the Lone Star State. The Navy man was a New Yorker, and kept insisting the only things to ever come out of Texas were steers and queers. Wilson showed him that a good right hand and some muscle behind it came out of Texas that night too, and put that whitecap down for the count.

Yet the sailor wasn’t too far off the mark with his jibe, for the Sergeant was one of a very special breed assigned to an odd throwback unit that was supposed to be headed for Fiji to join Patch and the Pacifica Division. It was the 112th Cavalry Regiment, Texas National Guard, one of the few still intended to mount up on real live horse flesh—an oddball Army unit for Pappy Patch and his green quilt on Fiji. Most of the regular Army infantry, thought it odd to have a mounted cavalry unit these days, and so the handle got stuck on the 112th. They were the ‘Queers on Steers.’

All they had done up until this point in the war was mount a watch on the Mexican border. Patch had them on Fiji for a time after that long 21-day ride to the South Pacific on the President Grant. Wilson remembered how they had tramped up the gangplank in San Francisco in his khaki uniform, trousers tucked into those high black leather boots, saddlebags thrown over the shoulders of the men, who mostly wore their felt hats. They still had the old steel WWI style helmet slung over their backpack, rattling with the traditional cavalry saber, and canteen.

Fully equipped, he thought, but the Army forgot just one thing—the horses. Where were the goddamned horses?

“Don’t worry about it,” said the Lieutenant at the top of the gangplank when Wilson stepped aboard the ship. “They’ll have horses for all of you when you get where you’re going.”

“Yeah? Where’s that?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” said the Lieutenant. “Come on, move along. The line’s a mile long.”

So Wilson was logged in and stepped aboard. Hours later they slipped under the massive industrial orange steel span of the Golden Gate Bridge, and put out to sea. When they finally arrived in Fiji, they had done a bit of scouting, a little work on the flanks, but it was the infantry that was getting all the real combat duty, and the misery that came with all that glory, hand in glove. Then the 112th got word that they were shipping out again, but no one knew where. Wilson got wind of it, overhearing a couple officers talking about a White Poppy, but nobody seemed to know what that was all about. MacArthur had asked for them personally, and many were now still trying to figure out if that was good news, or bad.

This time the horses would board along with them, and they switched Presidents to the Samuel Taylor. Their mounts had come all the way from Australia, a special breed called ‘Whalers,’ because they were born and bred in New South Wales. The men called them the ‘Range Broncos’, and they were an ornery bunch; not cooperative at all, so it took two long weeks on Fiji to simply get them to take a saddle, and let a man mount up. Yet once a Whaler agreed to carry you, he would prove to be a trusty and loyal friend, and a hard worker.

White Poppy was code for Noumea, and that’s where they were headed. The biggest island in the region, it was once the home of an aggressive tribe of 70,000 natives, many prone to cannibalism. It took the French military some time to root that out, though it was said that there were still groups of wild cannibals in the high wooded mountains that ran down the spine of the island, nearly 250 miles long. Now it was home to over 17,000 French civilians, along with an 800-man garrison force, the Battalion d’infantrie colonial de la Nouvelle-Caledonie. When the Japanese came, and the island remained under Vichy control in these altered states, the French Colonial Governor in Saigon shipped in one more Battalion of from the Tonkin Division.

The Japanese coveted the island for many reasons, for it was rich in resources, home to 20% of the world’s supply of nickel, and many other strategic metals like chrome, cobalt, iron, manganese, lead, coal and copper, not to mention gold and silver. There were already a thousand Japanese civilian workers on the island when the war started, mostly near the Goro nickel mines in the south, and at the chrome mine near Koumac in the north. Then, while the US was trying to rush troops to that island, the Ichiki Detachment that had once been slated to invade Midway was instead diverted to Noumea when Operation FS was chosen.

It was as far from a forsaken place like Guadalcanal as one could imagine, with banana plantations, farmland growing tobacco, cotton, maize, and fruits, an active timber industry, fishing resources, and the excellent deep water port at Noumea, the capital. In addition to this plentiful food and relatively mild climate, the island had developed hydroelectric power in the larger towns, a small rail line, good coastal roads, and absolutely no malaria.

That was both good news and bad, for while conditions for the average soldier were far better than they might have been on Guadalcanal, it also meant the enemy would not suffer attrition due to food shortages and disease, factors which had as much to do with the Japanese defeat there as anything else. Like Fiji, it was a place where the two sides could have a long protracted fight, and the unusual elongated shape of the island was going to figure heavily in the strategy of that upcoming battle. The US objectives would be in the south, at Noumea, and the airfield at Tontouta, about 33 miles northwest.

The Port of Noumea on Moselle Bay had three good berths, a solid quay and a facility known as the ‘Nickel Dock’ where the ore ships could load. It was scaled to handle 24 ships per month, but the bay itself could provide an anchorage for over 80 vessels. The one good airfield at Tontouta was ready to receive military planes, and the Japanese had made small improvements since they occupied the place.

Yet as MacArthur had asserted, the American landings had come as a great surprise. Only one battalion had been at Noumea, the second at Tontouta, and the third at the nickel mines of Goro. The entire 41st Infantry Division was committed to this attack, a force the Japanese could not hope to repulse at the landing sites. The irregular southwest coast of the island was cut by 15 to 20 bays spanning the distance of 35 kilometers between the airfield and harbor. Troops could come ashore in any of them, and it was simply too much ground for the Japanese to cover. So MacArthur was going to get his 41st Division ashore, and then have a very good prospect of seizing his first key objective—Noumea, but it would not end there.

The huge island pointed northwest to the Solomon Sea, and the Japanese could easily land reinforcements in the north, far from the American center of gravity in the south. Once there, they could move down the long coastal road to contest their enemy, and now there would be three battles underway, forcing both sides to supply three separate garrisons, Fiji, Efate, and New Caledonia. Each side had advantages and disadvantages, and now it would fall to the commanders to sort them out.

The cards were dealt; the game was afoot. MacArthur got his war after all. Now he simply had to win it, and against a battle-hardened enemy who would rather accept death than retreat. He had seen the cruelty of the Japanese on offense. Now he would see how tenaciously they would fight to hold the ground they had taken, and the ugly face of the Pacific war would soon loom over the scene like the sickly smell of burning human flesh being consumed by a flame thrower.

Sergeant Wilson with the 112th Cavalry had no idea where he was going that night, but he would soon find out. The 41st Infantry Division had arrived from Brisbane, the ships approaching Noumea through three openings in the long wall of coral reefs that protected the island, eclipsed in size only by Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. Halsey had broken off cruisers Quincy, Minneapolis, Chicago and five destroyers to support the landings, and he had swept the skies over the port area clean by sending over 60 fighters.

The Japanese had only 14 Zeroes on the island, along with 12 Vals, 12 more Nells, six Kates and a number of float planes. This time, Halsey cancelled the planned airfield strike by Enterprise, realizing that they would want to take it with as little damage as possible.

What Halsey did not know was that an undetected force was approaching from the northeast of the long island—the Shadow Fleet. That was territory that had been scouted earlier by the light escort carriers, but Hara had dispatched them days ago, and the blind spot that created was now covered with shadow. To make matters worse, Admiral Hara had raced home towards Rabaul, until he received a message indicating something was afoot at Noumea. Only his destroyers were low on fuel, and Yamamoto had wisely moved an oiler along Hara’s planned return route. So now King Kong turned about, taking his 3rd Carrier Division south with plans to approach Noumea from the northwest side of the island.

The US carriers had search planes out, but most were looking northeast in the region between New Caledonia and Efate. That was where Halsey had been operating, and where he expected the Japanese would advance if they had any intentions of challenging him after he made his first raid on Noumea. But Ltc Lindsay off the Enterprise could smell more in the wind than the light rain blowing up from the southeast. He was still flying an older Douglas Devastator, but was the first to spot trouble northeast of the island. The signal he sent jangled the nerves of the command staff aboard Essex, and Halsey scratched his head.

“Mother of God,” he said. “This can’t be right—six carriers, two battleships, and two large cruisers accompanied by five destroyers? That would be damn near everything they have out here.”

“If it is right,” said Captain Douglas, “then there’s the reason Wasp didn’t make it home. They may have combined all their groups into one big formation again.”

“The goddamned Kido Butai,” said Halsey. “Well, here we sit with four big fleet carrier decks. Our planes are thinning out a bit, but we still have enough for one good flight. That sighting is too far off to hit at the moment. We should move east. In a few hours, we can come about and get turned into the wind.”

Lindsay had it chapter and verse, there were six carriers on that group sighting, though not a single Japanese fleet carrier was among them. Halsey was also correct in saying the Japanese were coming at him with everything they had—they were. For off to the northwest, emerging from the Coral Sea, the elusive Admiral Hara was creeping up with the real muscle when it came to Japanese carrier power. He had Akagi, Taiho, Tosa, and two light carriers Junyo and Hiyo. Hara had a lot to consider here, for behind him, in the Coral Sea, a transport group was carrying the 79th Regiment of the 20th Division to reinforce the French on Efate.

Thinking he was long gone to Rabaul, Halsey had no idea he was there. This unexpected turnabout was going to figure heavily in what happened, and it was lack of good intelligence that would decide the day. He had no idea the Shadow Fleet even existed—six carriers, all hybrids, all the ships that Lindsay had spotted and called out in that latest sighting report. So he naturally assumed that Hara had turned, getting the matter half right, but convinced his enemy was east of New Caledonia.

The Admiral was squinting at his nautical charts and deciding what to do. His calipers marched across the chart, their steel legs pacing out the distance in hundreds of miles. He smiled. That sighting report would put the Kido Butai too far off to intervene in the upcoming landings. Damn if MacArthur was right with his assessment that they could steal a march on the Japanese and get into Noumea before they could react.

If I move east now, he thought, I can get into position to block their advance and cover the transports. The prevailing winds were from the south east, and his ships were already turning on the new heading he wanted. It was taking him to a position where he could easily lock horns with the Shadow Fleet, but while he bravely guarded the front door, Hara was already over the back fence and into the yard behind him.

The clever Japanese Admiral had a good idea where Halsey was, for the new addition to the Shadow Fleet, the Saiun long range recon planes, had been able to find him as he moved east. The Japanese pilots were elated with this plane, for it could fly higher and faster than anything the American had, and even outrun their fast fighters if threatened. They had spotted four fleet carriers, and so Hara decided to throw out a light attack, probing to make certain of the enemy location. He could see what he thought the Americans were doing, moving to confront Nagumo and the Shadō Butai, so he would tap them on the shoulder before they could throw a punch.

As he had done so successfully before, he threw out his longer-range torpedo planes, 32 B5N Kates and 10 of the newer B6N Tenzan “Heavenly Mountain” torpedo bombers, the plane the Allies would call “Jill.” Unfortunately, only 9 Zeroes had drop tanks fueled and ready to accompany them, and they would run into a hailstorm of enemy fighters over the American fleet.

Halsey had split his fighters 30/70, with most assigned to CAP duty to protect his ships, and the others running with his strike wave. He had over 80 planes available for CAP, and they would tear into Hara’s planned sucker punch, getting two Zeroes, 19 Kates and seven of the ten Jills. Only 16 planes survived to get low enough to make their attack runs, and not one scored a hit.

“Hot damn, we broke up that attack and then some,” said Halsey. “But those planes came out of the northwest.” His bristling brows were lost beneath the broad white helmet he wore whenever he was on the weather deck.

“Maybe they were off target and had to correct their approach,” suggested Duncan. “After all, we’ve been moving east for the last few hours, they probably thought we were west of our present position.”

That made perfect sense, and Halsey still had every reason to think these were all planes off the main body Lindsay had sighted, which was really but a shadow of the Kido Butai that morning. Then the radio came alive with the chatter of pilots in the heat of combat. Halsey’s strike had found the Shadow Fleet, and his boys were giving them hell.

Nagumo had already sent his own strike southwest to look for the Americans, but he still had 38 Zeros up on defense when Halsey’s pilots found him. Thinking he was up against steep odds again, Halsey had thrown everything he had at the enemy, 75 dive bombers and another 32 torpedo bombers escorted by 23 fighters. Then the report he had hoped he would never hear again came in the breathy shouts over that squawk box.

“Rockets! Rockets! What they hell are they throwing at us?”

Halsey looked at Duncan, who had his eyes riveted on the Squawk Box speaker as if he was trying to see through the grill to the battle crackling on the airwaves. “More Rockets.” He gave Halsey a sullen look.

“The rumors were dead on,” said Halsey. Nimitz had told him that Allied intel had coast watchers at Davao months ago who reported what they believed was a demonstration of a new anti-aircraft rocket being tested by the Japanese. It had also been used against B-17s shortly thereafter, and scuttlebutt had it that the Japanese had used it again up north. Thus far the only other use had been against the planes off Vicksburg and Gettysburg in that first encounter some weeks ago. Nothing had been seen of the new weapon since January 11th—until now.

Chapter 23

When Otani reported the strike wave coming in, Captain Harada shook his head in dismay. There were 130 enemy planes coming at them, and there he was out on forward picket duty calling out the warning to Nagumo, and with 42 missiles, which included the 12 SM-3s he was holding in reserve. He also had 10 RUM-139 ASROC missiles, but they were no good against planes. Now he had a decision to make. He could fire everything he had, and probably take a good bite out of this strike wave, but that would reduce him from the level of a fighting AA defense destroyer to the lowly realm of an ASW defense and early warning radar picket. Something in him wanted to hold on to his power just a little longer, but he had to do something, or be thought of as a paper tiger.

“Signal Nagumo and tell him we will make a limited air defense strike to attempt to shock the Americans. Then vector in his CAP. Mister Honjo, give me a dozen SM-2s.” That would leave him with 30 missiles, 18 SM-2s and 12 SM-3s. Every time he took a bite out of the enemy, he lost teeth, and unlike the shark that he seemed, there were no serried rows of replacement teeth in reserve.

They would knock down seven Wildcats and five dive bombers, damaging two others. Then the Japanese Zeroes arrived, their white wings painted with those red fireball suns. They swooped in and would damage or drive off another 26 strike planes, but too many would get through. Halsey’s strike wave flew right over Takami, ignoring the ship as the forward light cruiser picket it seemed to be. His men wanted to get at those flattops and big battleships, and they did.

Two bombs straddled the light carrier Kitsune, causing minor damage and buckling a hull plate aft to start a little flooding. Two more struck her sister ship Okami, blasting through the flight deck and causing heavy damage in the hangar area. Gozo Kiryu would take three hits; Gozo Kaya would be skewered by a single torpedo. Both the battleships also got a lot of attention. Satsuma would take four hits, Hiraga five, but now the strength and toughness of the new Japanese ships would save the day.

Many of those hits had been on the deck armor, and did not even penetrate to do any serious damage below decks. One struck the number two turret on Hiraga, but it was like throwing an egg at a metal box. The concussion rattled ears and heads, shaking men off their feet, but the heavy turret armor was not penetrated, or even seriously compromised. Two more were side armor hits that did little more than blacken the hull of the ships. In effect, the battleships were simply shrugging off the hits, with some cost in human casualties, but little damage of any significance to the ships.

Neither of the two fast super cruisers were hit, though Amagi had to pour on the power and maneuver smartly to avoid the wakes of two torpedoes. Some miles behind the forward body, the last two carriers were covered by low clouds, and so neither Ryujin nor Kinryu would get a scratch, the Dragon’s brood living to fight on another day.

Yet seeing hits for all four of the smaller scout and escort carriers triggered that reflexive impulse in Nagumo to preserve his ships. He had been selected by Yamamoto to return to Japan and lead these ships out into battle for the first time. They were gleaming new, with the fresh camo paint barely dry when he left Japan. Now he saw the inevitable scars of battle blackening the flanks and decks of his prized Shadō Butai, and he turned about, immediately ordering the group to withdraw north. Soon he learned that he had been wise to do so. Both of the escort carriers, Okami and Kitsune, reported their damage was sufficient to require all flight deck operations to be suspended. There would now be 48 planes that could not return to those two decks.

Our own strike must inevitably take losses, he thought grimly. So surviving planes should be able to land on my two bigger battle carriers, and any others can divert to Luganville.

He had thrown 150 planes at his enemy, but they were heading into increasing rain as they proceeded south. Only 46 strike planes with 44 fighters in escort, would find the Americans to deliver the first attack to be made by these new warriors of the Shadō Butai. Most of those were the torpedo planes, flying lower and avoiding many of the towering thunderheads that so confounded the dive bombers at 15,000 feet. Only eight D3A Vals and 17 D4Y Judy dive bombers would find the enemy, and the American fighters got all but eight of them. Not a single one would score a hit.

The attack now rested with the torpedo bombers, and it looked like they were going to be cut to pieces. Eight were taken by the enemy fighters, and six more would fall to flak. So there it was, after nearly a year in the shipyards, the synthesis of steel and sweat and sinew, and after all the planning, training and effort to bring those ships to battle, it was coming down to seven pilots in seven torpedo bombers that would survive the American defense to deliver their ordnance.

Halsey would come to call them the “Magnificent Seven,” counting them as they came in, one by one, flying bravely through the heavy flak.

“My god,” he said to Duncan. “Look at them, steady as a rock. Magnificent, but I wish I could personally shoot every last one.”

He kept his fingers crossed when he saw the torpedoes go into the water, but after observing a hundred practice drills at sea in his time, he knew the Japanese pilots had put their fish in the water with perfect precision. Amazingly, six of those seven torpedoes would find ships, two on North Carolina, another on South Dakota, two rocking Essex and one more on the Lexington.

Halsey swore when he saw the tall white splashes rise up with those hits. “Get me damage reports as soon as possible,” he ordered. The news he got back wasn’t good. South Dakota had taken only minor damage and flooding, and the ship’s Captain said he could seal it off and remain underway. Being hit twice, he felt lucky when he learned his own flagship had only minor damage, but there was more significant flooding that was going to need a port soon. Her engines were not compromised, but he knew his game was over at that moment, particularly when he got the news on Lexington. The single torpedo had ignited an ammo storage area and the flooding was much more severe. She would need to get to the nearest port that could be found, and quickly.

“That does it then,” said Halsey. “We’ll have to split the deck. Make to Enterprise and tell Spruance he’s about to have company. I want him to move over here to Essex and take the damaged ships safely to Australian ports.”

“You’re transferring your flag?” said Duncan. No Captain ever wanted to see an Admiral blown off his ship like that, even if he didn’t really want to stand in his shadow.

“Hell,” said Halsey. “I’ve still got MacArthur’s transports to cover at Noumea. I’ll take Enterprise, Yorktown, North Carolina and a couple cruisers back west to cover those landings. As for you and Spruance, take Essex, Lexington and the other battleship to Brisbane. If they can control the flooding on Lexington, you’d do better at Sydney, but save those ships at any cost. I’ll leave the bulk of the destroyers with you.”

“Aye sir,” said Duncan, a bit crestfallen.

It had come down to those seven pilots on the other side, and Nagumo would later learn that they were all among the handpicked veterans he had selected from the ranks of the men he had first led to Pearl Harbor. The younger pilots had fought bravely, but not with the skill of those Seven Samurai. If those last few planes had been foiled, Halsey would have won a resounding victory. Instead, the bravery and experience of those pilots meant that both sides had been hurt that day, and both forced to withdraw.

The problem Halsey faced now was in thinking his battle was over, while all this time he had been shadow boxing. His real enemy was still out there, still unseen by any search plane, and now Admiral Hara would send 69 dive bombers, 15 torpedo planes escorted by 17 zeroes. If they had found Halsey as he regrouped and started west towards Noumea again, it would have been a heavy blow. As it happened, they were not aimed at him this time. They were out after the American landing at Noumea, hungry for blood.

They came late in the day, flying between the high puffy clouds that were left on the wind like herds of grazing sheep. The storm front had passed north, and was now over Hara’s carriers, but his planes had punched through long ago and were over Noumea. There they could see that the Americans had landed at three separate locations.

Noumea sat on an irregular peninsula that jutted about seven miles out to sea on the southwest coast of the island. The harbor was approached through Dumbea Bay, which could also serve as a large anchorage. Dumbea led further north to Gadji Bay where the coastal road north ran just meters from the shore, and the main harbor entrance on Moselle Bay. A series of small islands sheltered the main harbor there. The largest of these was Nouville Island, about five kilometers long and only a little over a kilometer wide. It acted as a breakwater for the harbor, which it reached for with its narrow tail.

The US did not know how long they would have naval gunfire support, so they had planned to land artillery on that island, which had once housed up to 40,000 prisoners as a penal colony for the French. From there, the guns could command the entire city, while remaining relatively immune from a land based counterattack by the defenders.

Directly across the narrow Moselle Bay was the Nickel smelting works on another spit of land to the north, then the main port area with the Grand Quay, Government House, High Commissioner’s Office, Main Barracks for the French Garrison, and Artillery Barracks for the shore gun emplacements. The town also had an electrical plant, waterworks, rail depot, radio station, a cathedral and several churches, library, and a girl’s school. A few hotels, the best being the Hotel du Pacifique, were on the inland side of the harbor town, and the wide open square called Place de Cocotiers was dead center, with expansive grounds, botanical gardens and a rotunda that served as a stage for the military band. A tall statue of the French Admiral Orly stood there, commemorating his victory in the Kanek Rebellion of 1878, putting down tribes the French called cannibals.

Now new conquerors were coming, not cannibals, but the old doughboys that had once come to France to stop the Germans in the last war. The 41st Sunrise Division had shipped out with Pershing, though it did not fight as a cohesive unit in that war, its regiments being parceled out to buttress other divisions on the line. Now the French would have to face the descendants of the men who had fought for them at the Battles of the Aisne, Meuse-Argonne, Chateau Thierry and St. Mihel. Their names were still on the crosses in France, where LtC. John McCrae had written his famous poem….

A few more would die here as they assaulted the White Poppy, finally realizing where they were after they landed. Considered the best of all the National Guard Divisions, and one of the top three units in the Army, the 41st would give a good account of itself. The heaviest fighting in this part of the landings would fall to the 162nd Regiment, which came in through Moselle Bay, and the smaller harbor approach to the south called the “little entrance.”

Troops in this assault would arrive on the APDs, a few fast destroyers that could carry a company each. Their mission was to get in fast and get in close, the men having the benefit of the destroyer’s gunfire support as they took to their small rubber boats to make the short trip to the harbor. Coming at night, they had surprised the French Artillery Garrison, and fire from shore batteries was sporadic and ineffective. Any guns that did range on the landing site quickly became the focus of the destroyer gunfire, which was also blasting away at desultory machinegun fire coming from the edge of the harbor.

It was a daring attack by 1/162nd Battalion, the riskiest part of the operation, but it would succeed in getting the men ashore to begin the fight for the harbor itself. Farther out the 2nd and 3rd Battalions of would begin their Ship-to-Shore movement with simple landing boats, there being few LVTs to support the operation. Amazingly, the found all the harbor approaches unmined and lightly defended. The Japanese had rested their defense on the presence of numerous warships in that harbor, and the planes on Tontouta airfield about 25 miles to the northwest, but those planes and ships were largely gone.

Two days earlier, Halsey’s raid had hit that anchorage heavily, sinking four of five Japanese APs that had been in Dumbea Bay, and roughing up several destroyers and cruisers. Haguro was hit badly enough to force it to withdraw to Rabaul for repairs, and the Japanese squadron had put to sea, fleeing north to escape further harm.

As for the planes at Tontouta, there had been 24 twin engine Nell bombers, six Kates and 12 Vals, and they were ordered to transfer to Luganville after the attack. Only 14 of Bombers survived to make that trip, and went those planes were transferred, the defense of Noumea rested on the single French Battalion, and 1st Battalion of the Ichiki regiment, which was scattered over a ten to twelve-mile area.

So the Doughboys were going to get ashore that day, moving over the dark waters of Dumbea Bay in their tactical landing boats. The waning gibbous moon was just a little over half full, and it cast a silver sheen over the water, broken by the small dark intrusion of the landing craft. If MacArthur had waited a week, the invaders would have enjoyed the dark of the moon, but this being a first landing by the division, the US actually needed the moonlight to help keep order and prevent chaos in the darkness.

Most would survive the journey to the coast easily enough, the rifle teams leaping ashore on the narrow strand along the waterway known as Anse du Tir. Others were confused by the many small bays to the north that all seemed to look inviting enough, and some wandered into Numbo Bay; others into Dames Bay near the headland that framed the north end of the harbor area, called Komourou. Company platoons got separated, mixed in with those of another unit, but in the main, most everyone got ashore somewhere and began sorting themselves out under the bawling, throaty urgings of their Sergeants.

Further south, in the area designated “Plum Beach,” the 3rd Battalion of the 162nd would land on the seaward flanks of a high hill dubbed Mount Dore. There were shallow beaches in Plum Bay, with a small tree-studded settlement there. The main mission of this unit was to follow the road inland south and east of Mount Dore, and cut the main road on Route 7 to the south. This was the road that led to the mines at Goro, where full a third of Ichiki’s troops were stationed, many actually helping with the work there.

While the 162nd move to isolate and secure the port itself, it soon found itself in hot firefights with the scattered Japanese defenders. Yet outnumbered three to one, with little help from the feckless French troops, Ichiki’s 1st Battalion was slowly being overcome, one house after another.

Farther north, about 245miles up the main coastal road, the 163rd Regiment was landing at Anse Longue, or “Long Cove.” Well named, the landing site was the only location suitable for a landing aimed at seizing Tontouta Airfield, which was the real prize objective of the attack. Areas due west and north of the field saw the coastal bays overgrown with boggy mangrove swamps, so much so that one was named “Inaccessible Bay.” The beach at Long Cove was fringed on its seaward edge by rocky coral, but the boats would hit the submerged sandbars before they reached it, and it would be easy enough for the infantry to simply wade ashore. To their great surprise, there was no defense there whatsoever. An amphibious landing was the farthest thing from the minds of the local Japanese garrison, who were posted mostly at or very near the airfield itself, some six miles inland.

To get there, the 163rd would be crossing relatively open ground, rising gently in elevation and presenting no real terrain obstacles beyond the winding course of a few small streams. One battalion veered right toward the small hamlet of St Vincent, its mission being to cut the main road there. The other two battalions assembled in the flat open ground and then headed north towards the airfield. The base itself was screened from on its northern flank by the Tambeo River, a small watercourse no more than 50 feet in average width. To the south, the meandering course of the small La Tamoa River joined the Tambeo before they made their way through thickening mangroves to the sea. There the river could widen to over 300 feet, and the boggy groves made an attack from that direction impossible.

The only way to take the field would be to first cross the Tamoa River to reach the main road, called Route 1. The road and river then ran roughly parallel to one another, separated by a kilometer of open fields. As the troops approached, they would have scant cover in a few lines of trees gracing the course of small streams. Then they would meet the best organized defense on the island, for Colonel Kiyano Ichiki was at the airfield when the landings began.

Chapter 24

The 2nd Battalion under Major Nobuo Kuramoto was well concentrated to defend the field, with most of the machineguns in the detachment sited as AA emplacements on the edges of the long 3000 foot landing strip. He had four companies under Lieutenants Higuchi, Sawada, Maruyama and Chiba, all up to strength. The battalion was further strengthened by Lt. Komatsu’s MG Company, a small gun platoon under 2nd Lt. Hanami, and an engineer company to work on the field under Lieutenant Hideo Goto. In all, there were about 916 officers and men, and this was the same force that had been Ichiki’s first echelon when it had landed at Guadalcanal in Fedorov’s history.

The reputation of Ichiki’s force had been forged over many years of fighting in Manchuria, and it was considered among the very best in the Army. It was a unit fired at the outset with rigid discipline and training, often brutal by American standards. The soldiers themselves endured physical hardships, severe beatings, the clenched fist of a superior officer, or a rifle butt or sword haft being liberally applied for any perceived shortcoming. It was no surprise then that the men forged by that training regimen were a hard hearted and brutal lot themselves.

The Colonel had been chafing for some time, knowing that the Army had placed two full divisions on Viti Levu and believing that his detachment, the first to arrive in this theater, had been overlooked. He wanted to get into the war again, not to sit in garrison duty, with a third of his men working the mines before rotating to a two-week billet in Noumea, and then moving to the Airfield before they repeated that sequence. His men were restless, particularly after the Americans bombed the field, and all the planes were ordered out. The sight of the transports burning in the harbor was most disconcerting. The Colonel took that order very personally, thinking that he and his men had not been able to properly defend the airfield and harbor, but what more could they do?

The Navy had sent only one squadron of the better Type-Zero fighters, and it was said that they were now busy moving new troops to build up forces in the New Hebrides. Rumors were flying like fireflies that the Americans had landed on Efate, which was the reason why all the ships and planes had been ordered elsewhere. He imagined that they were now busy preparing to attack the Americans, and had no word that any threat to his command was imminent.

So it was with great surprise that Ichiki awoke in the darkness of the early morning to hear the deep boom of heavy gunfire. He knew it was not his own artillery, nor that of the French. This was something bigger, more ominous sounding, and it immediately honed his guard up for battle. The Colonel would soon receive a call from Noumea where Colonel Mizuno had the 1st Battalion. The harbor was being shelled, and the dark silhouettes of many enemy ships could be seen in the bay.

The sudden realization that the war had found him again at last was like a jolt of energy for Ichiki. He rushed out, soon fining his adjutant, Captain Yokichi Togashi, and ordered the battalion to stand to arms. Many of the men thought this was another of the Colonel’s surprise training drills, which had seemed endless in spite of their backwaters deployment, but now they could sense there was something more in the air that morning. The sound of battle rode the still airs like a rumble of thunder. The Americans were landing!

Colonel Ichiki resisted the immediate impulse to send his men to the harbor defense, knowing that he was already sitting on the ground the enemy really wanted. So instead he ordered his men to begin strengthening all their defensive positions, and when the troops of the 41st finally began to approach the airfield, they would face a well concentrated defense. The Japanese troops would now be fighting under the eyes of their Regimental Commander, and were burning to get at the Americans once they realized the surprise landings had been carried out before dawn.

“We are not going to the harbor?” asked Captain Togashi. “That is where they are landing!”

“Do not worry, this is what they came for, not the harbor.”

“But if they take the city they will have most of our supplies.”

“There are two battalions there already.”

“The French are useless!”

“True, but Colonel Mizuno is there with them. He will hold the harbor, or die if he should fail. As for us, we must keep this airfield from falling into enemy hands at all cost.”

“Then you will just sit here and order the men to dig in?”

“Of course not. I will wait until the Americans come, and then annihilate them. In the meantime, the men should not be sitting idle. So yes, they will dig in, and shore up the AA gun positions in case more American planes arrive.”

“More American planes…” Togashi shook his head. “Where are our planes now? It was shameful to see them fly off two days ago as they did.”

“I am told they went to Luganville to prepare the counterattack on Efate. That island is much closer to Tulagi, which is now operating as a forward supply base for the New Hebrides.”

“This was supposed to be that base,” said Togashi. “Something tells me the enemy has awakened, like a sleeping dragon that stirs in the dark. How could they still hold Fiji when all of the 38th and 48th Divisions were sent there? How could the Americans fight that battle and yet also attack Efate, and now Noumea?”

“Useless questions,” said Ichiki stoically. “We need only concern ourselves with this moment. We will wait here until the Americans think to advance up Route 1 and take this airfield. Then I will attack and destroy them. How many troops could they have landed? A thousand? Two thousand? We have more than enough men to destroy them if that is the case. Have you sent word to 3rd Battalion?”

“Yes sir. Colonel Goto is already marching to Noumea to join Colonel Mizuno. Are you certain we should not do the same?”

“And leave the airfield undefended? What if they have enough ships to put men ashore to our north?”

“They cannot land there; the mangroves are too thick on the shore.”

“Mangroves? There is a beach just north of Tomo where they could put in a raiding force. Did you not read the report of the raid on Makin Island? We must hold this airfield! Now… Place Higuchi’s Company to watch the north road. Sawada is to move a thousand meters south and establish a picket line astride Route 1. Maruyama will wait here on the line, his men facing south. Chiba will hold his men in reserve. As for the Engineers, they are to take up rifles and await further orders.”

In spite of his urge to move the whole battalion south to Noumea, the Captain heard the sternness of iron in Ichiki’s tone, and knew orders when he heard them.

“Sergeant Nakamoto!”

“Hi!” The Sergeant was the HQ Runner, and always close at hand.

“Order Lieutenant Sawada to move his men out, a thousand meters to the south, and establish an outer defensive line. They will then await further orders.”

After a stiff bow and salute, Sergeant Kiyoshi Nakamoto was off at a run. The Colonel tramped off to look over the defenses of the field. In his mind, it would only be a matter of time before fresh squadrons would arrive. His engineers had been busy repairing the crater damage to the field from two days past. Surely the Army and Navy would not leave him with only a handful of float planes at this strategically vital base. So when the new planes came, he had to be ready.

As for the Americans, they were now finding that even an unopposed landing in the pre-dawn darkness was an invitation to chaos. It would take three hours before the regiment had even one full battalion ashore and got it sorted out. Then the boats would return to the AP transports and start the process over. Much of the equipment for the battalion landed was also still on those transports, and so it would end up taking the Americans all that morning to simply get their men ashore and in reasonable order.

Patrols had been pushed out in the early afternoon, but nothing was seen. It wasn’t until 4pm that the ammunition loads, mortar teams and heavy weapons were actually delivered, and the 163rd Regimental commander, Colonel Jens A. Doe ,spent most of the day merely getting his men ashore and ordered for battle, but he was grateful for the interval of relative calm, unmolested by the enemy.

Yet landing was one thing, securing the vast span of this island would prove to be quite another. New Caledonia was all of 250 miles long. Carriers positioned south of Noumea could therefore not really control the airspace in the northern segment of the island. While there were no good ports there, it would still be possible for the Japanese to move troops and supplies in on small fast ships, even destroyers. Given the limitations on shipping, it had not been possible to make landings there concurrent with the assault on Noumea, and given the lack of motor transport, Colonel Doe knew they weren’t going to get up north any time soon. For now, it would be enough to secure Noumea, root out the French and Japanese units here, and bring in adequate supplies and air support units.

The Japanese would fight hard, that was a given. As for the French garrison, some were not happy about the odd twist of fate that had made enemies of former friends in this war. They had heard what had happened in Casablanca, and how Germany simply devoured France after Operation Torch. They also knew that all the Colonies of French North Africa were no longer under their control. Some remained bitter about their nation’s lot in the war, others looked to the future and decided who they might best ally with in years to come. They had an intense dislike for the stern Colonel Ichiki and his battalions of roughhewn Japanese infantry, and so for many, the arrival of the Americans was seen as a kind of liberation.

This meant the French defense was halfhearted, with many men of the French garrison simply throwing away their arms and melting into the population. The Americans would land to the north and south of the harbor, intending to cut the coastal road in both sectors and isolate Noumea. Only one battalion of Ichiki’s Regiment was in the town, and it soon found itself cut off from the rest of the regiment, and faced with the swelling numbers of a full US infantry division.

Yet this battle was only just beginning, and Colonel Doe and the rest of the 41st would soon learn that in a most uncomfortable way. It would be Admiral Hara’s planes that would do the most damage, swooping in over the anchorages like malicious dark crows. The bombs came whistling down, blasting the cruisers Minneapolis, Quincy, and Chicago, and putting enough damage on each to force them to retire to Sidney with Spruance. Cargo transports Largs Bay, Esperance Bay, and Diomed were left burning the latter half capsized in the bay. But most of the APDs had been further north and south, escaping harm. The only other ship that was hit was the destroyer Monaghan. All in all, Hara’s pilots scored 18 hits, all with bombs, but mostly on the ships that had been assigned to attack Noumea Harbor.

Halsey was too late to get fighter cover over the landings, something MacArthur complained about liberally. By the time he did get there, sending waves of blue winged fighters over the scene, Hara had recovered his planes, saw the gathering darkness, and turned away north. He would cover the movement of troops to Luganville now, finishing the deployment of the entire Japanese 20th Infantry Division. One regiment went there, another to Ndeni to take that outpost away from the enemy, and the last to Efate to tussle with the 8th USMC Regiment for control of that island.

As for Sergeant Wilson and the 112th Cavalry, they were still at sea, well south, and intended as a follow up unit for the Noumea landings. Colonel Julian Cunningham was already briefing his men as to what had happened and where they were really going. Captain Leonard was making the rounds to all Squadron commanders, finding Major Ruppert Johnson (1st Squadron), and telling him the men should get into full kit immediately.

So it was a sleepless night for Wilson and his troopers. The next day they would arrive at Noumea, see the three burning transports, and look warily skyward. All they would see were Halsey’s planes. By that time Hara was long gone, and Halsey would stand a stubborn watch with his fighters until all the remaining equipment was safely ashore, and MacArthur calmed down. Strategically, neither side could prevent the other from moving their troops, and a day later the convoy bearing the 112th Cavalry arrived. Soon they were mostly ashore, the last of the Whaler horses being led down the gangplanks. Yet as the men assembled neat the Nickel Dock, the smell of smoke and ash was heavy over the city. They could see fires raging, and still hear the sound of heavy fighting.

In the city itself, the US infantry had surrounded the single battalion the Japanese had there. Rather than surrender, the Japanese set fire to every building they occupied, fixed bayonets, and charged the Americans with their fury. They soon found what so many had learned in the last war, that charging men with bayonets were, in the end, no match for men sitting behind .50 caliber machineguns.

Ichiki’s 1st Battalion under Colonel Mizuno died to a man.

When it was over, the first job the 112th would be given was to rig up makeshift sleds from old doors and wall siding, and use them to cart off the dead.

Morgue detail, thought Sergeant Wilson. My god, look at the bodies, ours and theirs. We’ll haul them out east of the city and be done with it, but this can’t be all the Japs on this island. I’m told the 41st took heavy casualties against this lot. It’s going to be tougher here than we thought.

It would be days before Wilson and the rest of his Regiment would get billeted north of Noumea. They were going to be used in the role best suited for cavalry, as advanced scouts in recon operations. Word was that another battalion of Japanese troops had been south and east of Noumea, and the 112th was going to be tasked with getting down there to see what they were up to.