1943 (17 years old - Part 2 of 3)
Where was I? Oh yeah! I was the colonel's body guard. It, as I
said was to protect him from harm. That wasn't an easy job, since there
were snipers, and no one could predict when they would start shooting.
It had always been an Army regulation that, when reporting to a superior
officer, to salute and stand at attention. Well, Jap snipers hidden in
the surrounding jungle waited for that to happen and then they'd shoot
whoever was being saluted. All officers were called by their first or
last names, not saluted and wore no identifying insignia. Anyway, I
called my C.O. Joe. He was a real stand up guy and I admired him a
lot. You should take note that I said, "I admired him a lot" and not
"liked" or admired a great deal. I spent a great deal of my day within
ten feet of him and let me tell you it is almost like being married.
You really learn about all there is to know about someone that close.
I, of course, overheard almost every conservation he had with anyone,
personal, as well as military. The one thing I admired most about Joe,
was his firm belief that everybody carried his own weight. For example,
usually about an hour before dark, we always stopped and made ready for
the night. Eating supper and digging our fox holes and such (excluding
the swamp). Joe always dug his own fox hole, or otherwise prepared for
the night, so I was free to dig mine and shoot the bull with the other
guys. In the early days, so to speak, I was pooped after carrying all
that weight all day, so a little time to myself was really appreciated.
One evening we were ready to dig in for the night and the routine was
going okay, when this doctor, a captain, says, "Miller, go over there and
dig my hole, I've had a hard day and I'm tired." Joe calls this captain
over and says, "Listen asshole, Miller worked just as hard as you did
and if you want a hole dug. You better get started. Don't even let me
hear you ask one of my men to do your work for you." There were a few
other well chosen words passed on to the good doctor, but I guess you
get the drift. It seemed like I was always on old Doc's shit list from
then on.
As I said before, it is difficult for me to apply dates and times
to happenings. It seemed like a long, long time but, I suppose it was
about three weeks, or a month before we reached a point just outside of
Rondova. Rondova I guess, was the capital of New Georgia, a bunch of
tin roofed shacks and lean-to's between the swamp and the ocean. Of
course there wasn't much left of it, with all the bombing and shelling
going on. We set up our perimeters on a strip of land away from
Rondova. On the other side of Rondova was a place called Munda. The
C.B.'s were already building an air field there to evacuate the sick and
wounded, that up until then had been taken by boat, back to Guadalcanal
where a station hospital had been constructed next to Henderson field,
the only airfield big enough for transport planes. On the front lines,
at that time, we had units called collecting companies that went around
to battalion aid stations to collect the wounded and transfer then to an
evacuation center. One night, the Japs attacked and clubbed and
bayonetted every single person to death. Remember, what I said a while
back about Japs being cruel and sadistic? This is just one instance
where their actions bear out my story.
I wish I were better with the local geography, so that I could
better explain our position to you, but I guess you will have to use
your imagination. I will use direction, but please don't hold me to the
accuracy.
East, and outside of our perimeter was a strip of dry land,
running, as I said, between the ocean and the swamp. Our anti-tank and
recon platoon was designated as a wholly reconnaissance platoon since
the Japs had very few tanks and the terrain made them, along with ours,
almost totally useless. Our mission was to make contact with the enemy,
without them seeing us, if possible. We started out one afternoon and
staying in the jungle away from the open beaches, we proceeded very
slowly toward the enemy lines. After about six or seven miles, the
swamp kind of petered out and we went further inland. By that time it
was getting dark, so we stopped. I thought for the night, but the
Lieutenant says, "Eat up you guys and then strip for action." Strip,
meaning to get rid of everything that rattles, or shines. No steel
helmets, metal money, keys. etc. I had learned a lot since my first
landing. I had my M-1 Carbine, a double edged trench knife, ammo, in
cloth bandolier and what we called a "G" string. It was a piece of
piano wire about two feet long and tied to a piece of wood on each end
for handles. The idea was to make a loop, slip it over an enemy head
and jerk the wire tight and strangle whoever was unlucky enough to be
under the wire.
I don't think I can describe, how terribly dark it was. I am
always amazed that we were able to move in the dark and not make any
noise. We were tied together, by holding onto short pieces of rope,
otherwise, we would have become hopelessly separated. About midnight, I
saw a glow shining up against the branches of the trees just ahead of
us. We stopped and tried to figure out what was going on. The
lieutenant sent me to the left and another guy to the right, to find out
what was happening, and not be detected. At least there was some light
from the glow on the trees. I walked at a crouch until it got pretty
light and then got down on my hands and knees and crawled. As I got
closer to the source of the light, I could see that it came from a
depression in the ground. It turned out to be a huge bomb crater and
there were eight Jap soldiers sitting around a fire cooking supper. As
I sneaked around for a better look, I came up on a piece of log lying at
the edge of the crater. I was so busy watching the people in the hole,
that it wasn't until the last second that I saw the Jap soldier sitting
on the other end of the log I was trying to hide behind. By some
miracle, he didn't see me. As I was sliding backwards into the brush, I
looked across the crater and saw my buddy on the other side. The Jap
guard in front of me saw him too, but wasn't sure what he was seeing.
As he was starting to get up for a better look, I came up behind him and
slipped my "G" string over his head and gave a great big jerk. He just
collapsed without a sound. I tried to get my "G" string loose, but it
was stuck on something. I reached up to his neck to pull it loose and
discovered that I had, in my fear, pulled so hard that I almost cut his
head clear off and that my noose was caught in the large tendon at the
back of his neck, the only thing that was holding his head on.
I don't know why it was so important for me to get my "G" string
back, but I screwed around for what seemed like ten minutes getting it
loose. By that time, I was bloody clear to my elbows. We went back to
the platoon and reported what we had seen. The lieutenant decided that
they were also a recon patrol. He also decided that since I had killed
the guard, we either had to kill or capture the rest of them. He
decided that we would try to capture them. It was supposedly known fact
that Japs did not surrender. Even so, he said we would try. We crawled
around the crater and we all stood up and he called for them to
surrender. In English of course. They didn't know what he said and it
probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway. They all made for
their weapons and we started shooting. Only one survived. The only
fear we had, was that the enemy had heard us and knew about our
presence. We took care of our prisoner and three guys were assigned to
take him back to the unit for interrogation. He wasn't wounded too
badly and was able to walk without help. I never saw him again. They
always treated prisoners of war better than they treated us, so I
suppose he ended up in Iowa or some other place like that.
To make sure that we hadn't been discovered by the enemy, we
continued until enemy territory for another two days, without incident.
On the morning of the third day we started hearing noises ahead of us.
There was a great deal of activity going on. The further we advanced,
the louder it became. We were then, just inside the fringe of the
jungle and were about to emerge onto the beach of a fairly large inlet.
Luckily, the noise had made us extra cautious. I, and another guy were
sent ahead to find out what was going on. As I crawled through the last
several feet of underbrush, I tried to keep hidden as well as possible.
I finally parted the foliage enough to see out. About three hundred
yards across the inlet, the Japs were loading men and equipment into
landing craft and barges under suspended camouflage nets. It is almost
impossible to detect any camouflaged objects from the air. I neglected
to tell you at the beginning that we had a radio with us and depending
on the frequency we used, we could talk to our unit or to anyone else
using our frequency. We called our unit and they in turn called in air
craft from Henderson Field. When they arrived in our area, we were to
guide them to the target by radio. There were nine planes involved.
They were guided over our position and when the flight leader was
directly overhead he marked our position and we directed him to the
enemy using our position as a guide point. The Japs continued their
activities, thinking they couldn't be seen. The planes climbed to about
three or four thousand feet and started their attack drives, three at
time, side by side. As they started firing their machine guns, small
boats and ammo and I don't know what else started burning and blowing
up. As the planes began their pull out, they dropped 250 pound bombs
and that really raised hell. Then the second and third waves came down
and then started all over again and kept it up until they were out of
ammo. After they were through straffing and bombing, I'll bet our
platoon could have taken the rest of the enemy prisoner if we had tried.
Anyway, we called back all the information we had and that resulted
in the rest of the battalion being able to bypass all the land we had
walked across and come in by landing craft. We held our positions until
the battalion arrived the next day. After that, we all moved up beyond
where the Japs had been evacuating the area. We moved up to an area
thought to contain a large enemy force. We set up battle perimeter and
were getting fire lanes in the jungle. Fire lanes were lanes cut into
the jungle from a central point, kind of like a lady's fan and that
would give machine gun and rife fire a clear shot at anything crossing
or coming down it. I and several other guys were out near the end of
one of the fire lanes cutting brush with machete knives when all of a
sudden I hear this yelling and hollering, and somebody shouting banzai!
Banzai. We dropped the machete and grabbed our rifles which were never
more than an arms length away. Just in time. Here comes this crazy
bunch of Japs charging out of the jungle yelling and waving bayonets.
It scared the shit out of me and I mean shit!! We started to shoot and
it gave us a chance to fix bayonets. By that time some more of our guys
came running up to help. It was an absolute mad house. Men going back
and forth as if they were dancing, until one got the advantage and
dispatched the other. Yelling, crying, screaming. Some screamed in
anger, some in fright. I was scared and excited at the same time. I
began to hope that it would never end. I had such a high!
I had run my bayonet into an enemy's chest and it was stuck and I
couldn't get it out. I was still trying when a Jap came at me, ready to
run me through. Somebody behind me shot him. He stopped and then, like
a frozen statue, fell forward, and as he did his bayonet stuck me in the
left shin. He fell, but the bayonet and the rifle stood quivering in my
leg. It seemed like a long time, but the rifle fell to the ground and
the bayonet came out. Have you ever been kicked in the shins? Most of
us have and we all know how much it hurts. Well, this was about ten
times worse. There really isn't any way to describe the pain. I sat
down behind a termite mound and the battle soon made its way away from
me and shortly the enemy retreated. There were casualties on both
sides, of course, but we had far fewer wounded and dead that day. A
medic came up and looked at my wound. He assumed the bone was broken,
but not a cross fracture as I remember. He put sufla powder on it and
wrapped a bandage around it an told me to go to Battalion aid. I was
able to do that since it was only a short distance.
Remember the doctor I told you about? He says, "Miller, you'd whine
about anything, that is nothing to be hospitalized for!" He put more
sulfa on it and a new bandage and returned me to duty. I went limping
back to the headquarters area and the first guy I run into is the C.O.
He asked what happened and I told him. He asked if I could do my job.
I said, maybe after a rest. He put me in a hole and told me to stay
there until he said to leave. Outside of morphine, the only pain killer
we had was a pill called A.P.C. All the services used them as a cure
all for everything. Since morphine put you to sleep, I took some A.P.C.
tablets. During the night, I must have taken a dozen, but it didn't
help the pain. The next morning, the colonel came over and asked how I
was. I told him it hurt pretty bad. He helped me stand up, but I could
only stand on one leg. The other was swollen so badly, he had to cut my
pant leg. That was no fun either, but it did help the pain when he cut
the tight pant leg open. He looked pretty disgusted and walked off.
Pretty quick he came back with the doctor. As they were walking up, I
was just finishing urinating. The doctor said to the C.O., "Joe his
urine is black, he has yellow jaundice." The C.O. says, "Doc, and I use
the term loosely, Miller should have been out of here last night. Go
sign an evacuation order." In about three hours I was in a M.A.S.H. unit
on Guadalcanal where I stayed for three weeks with a badly infected leg
and jaundice.
During that three weeks, my outfit went on to secure New Georgia
and gear up for another landing. This one was to be Vella La Vella. A
small island in the same area. It had been the headquarters for Lever
Brothers plantations in the Solomons. Lever Brothers makes soap, such
as Palmolive and many other household cleaners. I missed most of that
campaign. One day we were down at the landing area unloading landing
craft hauling supplies. We were busy loading trucks when these guys
came over and told us to clear the beach. Everybody follows orders, so
we started to leave. The beach Master stopped us and asked where we
were going. We told him. He said, "Wait right here till I get back."
These same guys came back and told us to leave again. The lieutenant
said he had orders from the Beach Master to wait. These guys get pretty
huffy, but we wait. Pretty soon the Beach Master comes back with this
wild guy. He goes over to these people and asks who gave the orders to
evacuate the beach. This one guy says, "My commanding officer, Major so
and so if it's any of your business pop." Pop says, "It's Brigadier
General Pop to you, smart ass and where is your C.O." This guy turned
kind of green around the gills and said the C.O. was coming in on a
landing craft. The General said, "We'll all wait." About twenty minutes
later, here comes a landing craft. It slides up on the beach and these
guys jump out with all this equipment and immediately start setting it
up. The General walks over and asks what they are doing. They said
they were making a movie about landings to sell war bonds back home.
The General said, "That is okay as long as you don't disrupted the
supply landing." "Okay," they said. In about a half hour we see about
ten LCI's coming right at where the guys were waiting. They slide up
and the ramps drop and here come all these guys yelling and shooting
just like they were making the initial assault. It turned out that they
were Marines. About a month later one of the guys got a newspaper from
home. Guess what the headlines said? Marines take Vella La Vella.
What do you think about that?
That is not all. As all the yelling and stuff was going on, here
comes this picket boat with a bunch of brass on board. They all jump
out and come ashore. There was a bird Colonel leading the group. Our
regimental supply officer had a Japanese artillery piece on the beach
ready to be loaded and shipped for our regimental museum. This Colonel
walks up to the weapon and looks it over pretty closely and calls one of
his officers over and tells him to load the gun onto one of their
landing craft. The Beach Master told him that it belonged to our
outfit. The Colonel says that he is the ranking officer and that his
order stands. The Beach Master told him, he was in charge of all beach
head operations and that he could not take the gun. The Colonel then
gave the Beach Master a direct order to obey his order or suffer the
consequences. Several Marines were already man handling the gun toward
the boat. Our Brigadier came up and asked what they were doing. One
said, "Get the hell out of the way or we'll run over you." He motioned
our Lieutenant over and told him to have us arm ourselves. Then he told
the marines to stop moving the gun or they would be shot. We didn't
actually point our weapons at them, but they stopped just the same.
This Marine Colonel came trotting over and wanted to know why they had
stopped loading the gun. One of them pointed at us and said we had
stopped them. He starts yelling and cursing and says we better get the
hell out of the way or our ass is mud. Our Brigadier reached into his
pocket and pulled out his General's star and pinned it on his collar.
Then he called the Colonel to attention and said, "You get all your
hooligans and all their cameras and whatever you brought with you and
get your asses off our beach, or I will have you arrested for stopping
the movement of vital war supplies. If you don't believe me just stand
there for another sixty seconds." Let me tell you, they moved. Within
fifteen minutes they were completely gone.
We sure led a dull life back in the golden days. Two days later we
were sent to one of the cargo ships to unload the ship's holds. On one
end, there was a refrigerated hold. It was full of cabbage. Tons and
tons of it. When they opened the hold, the refrigeration was turned off
and along with it, so were the circulating fans. About half of the
cabbage was spoiled and even though we didn't know it then, the gas from
rotting cabbage can kill you in a confined space. Twelve of us went
down to put the crates of cabbage into a cargo net. It was then lifted
out into a landing craft. We were down there about a half hour, when
one of the guys just fell over. I went over to see what was the matter
and that was the last I remembered until I felt somebody put a needle
into my rump. We had all passed out, and if they hadn't got us out
pretty damn quick, we all would have died.
Nobody ever said why, but immediately after that I had a recurrence
of jaundice and it was back to Guadalacanal for me. I was in the
hospital another eight days. On the eighth day, everyone was talking
about the troop ship anchored off the Canal. I didn't pay much
attention until I found out that it was my outfit shipping out. I
didn't want to get stuck in some new unit, so I looked up the hospital
commander and told him my story. He said, I was about ready for active
duty again and assigned me back to my outfit. Two days later I went
aboard ship. We sat around another two days and then unloaded at a
place called Teneru, about ten miles south of where we had originally
landed. We stayed there about six weeks.
While we were there, we were put on half rations. That was to
toughen us up for something that was going to happen. GI's are very
resourceful people, especially when food or drink is involved. Since
our rations were only half of the normal issue, we decided to find other
things to eat. Flies and dysentery and any other sort of diseases or
parasite that slipped around the Pacific we had, at one time or another.
As I said before, we never had any fresh food. The cabbage I told you
about was our first and only experience with anything fresh. One day,
we were swimming and somebody thought he saw a crocodile and threw a
hand grenade into the river. When it went off, all these fish cam
floating to the surface. We scooped them up and cleaned them and then
built a fire and stuck them on sticks and roasted them. We had no salt
or other seasonings although we normally carried all kinds of stuff like
that. That fish was fantastic. Well, we started a trend. Now,
contrary to popular belief hand grenades do not blow up half of the
world when they detonate. I am talking about fragmentation grenades.
About five or six guys would wade up the river side-by-side and each
would just drop a grenade out in front a little more than an arms length
and about armpit deep. When the grenade went of, it stung our legs like
someone had hit you with a handful of sand. Then eight or ten guys
behind us scooped up the dead fish in mosquito nets. In about thirty
minutes we had enough fish to feed our whole company. Pretty soon
everybody was doing our fishing bit and the fish were becoming scarce.
We decided to try something else.
As I said, these diseases were rampant and sanitation was top most
in everybody's mind, so all our toilets were built out over the ocean,
when possible. When you have several hundred guys taking a crap in the
ocean every day, it draws all kinds of denizens of the sea. As soon as
somebody took a crap, these fish ate it and were then christened turd
snappers. We would get rubber rafts from the Quartermaster and paddle
out beyond the outhouses. We wired two half pound blocks of TNT
together and put in an electric blasting cap. We lowered that into the
water until it touched bottom, then touched the end of the wire to a
battery and exploded the TNT. The fish would came floating to the
surface. There was a great variety of fish coming to the surface and we
had to ask the natives which ones were poisonous. We shared our fish
with them and they always brought us bananas, papaya, mangos and
anything else they thought we would eat. Our days in paradise soon
ended and the great experiment with half rations was a flop. A flop
over swollen bellies. Even during this time we had to dodge the air
raids every night, so it wasn't a dull paradise.
We soon found out what we were being conditioned for. We were
loaded back on the ship and away we went. We ended up in Brisbane,
Australia. We didn't get to sample the good life in Australia we had
all heard about. We were unloaded and trucked right through Brisborne
to a staging area at an airfield about twenty miles west. Here, we were
told that there were Jap aircraft spotter stations in French Indo China
(Vietnam) and that every time our airplanes went on raid into the
Japanese held territories, which was most of that part of world, they
were always met by heavy enemy fighter cover and our bomber losses were
blamed on these spotter stations. Our job was to parachute into the
central highland and go across country, destroying these stations as we
progressed toward the coast. Didn't I tell you what great gravy jobs we
always got? We were put aboard twelve planes and flown to Darwin in
Northern Australia to refuel.
En route we were told how to put on a parachute and how to stand in
the door ready to jump when told to do so. Not one single guy had ever
jumped out of an airplane, except maybe to fall out on the ground when
the plane was parked. After a meal at Darwin we flew to an island in
the Indian Ocean called Cocos Island. Here we refueled again and ate
again. From there we flew on to our destination. As I said, when we
were over our drop zone the jump master said, "Stand up, hook up." Hook
up meant to hook your rip cord to a wire stretched from one end of
the plane to the other. It was called a static line. You hooked up and
then you were supposed to check the guys equipment in front of you.
There was some other stuff, but who cares. Pretty soon, the jump master
said, "go", and we started jumping. I'm telling you right now, they had
to pry my fingers off the sides of the door. I didn't crap that time.
My ass was puckered up too tight for anything to come out. By the time
they kicked me out of the plane, me and everyone after me landed about a
half mile away from the rest of the outfit. There were 400 of us and as
far as I know, no one was injured in the drop. We were immediately
separated into companies and started off in different directions, kind
of like a fan, but always towards the coast. I don't remember how far
it was, but we had a month to do it. I also can't name very many names
or places. The outposts we attacked and destroyed were all code names
and sometimes, just map coordinates so my story, except for the events,
is pretty sketchy.
We landed in a field of tall grass about a quarter mile wide and a
mile long. The others landed beyond a line of trees in another open
area. We were damn lucky we didn't drop into the trees, or there would
have been a lot of casualties. We had enough rations for three days and
along with the other necessities we were carrying it was a heavy load.
I mean we were in full field gear with extra ammunition, gas masks, and
it seemed, every other piece of equipment the army issued. After our
food was gone, we were to live off the country and that meant anything
that walked, flew, crawled or swam. There were 140 of us in our group,
so it took a lot of living off the country. We soon realized that the
extra weight we were carrying was tiring us out quickly and slowing our
march to a pace that wouldn't allow our rendezvous on the coast at the
arranged time. I never could figure out how they arrived at a time to
rendezvous when no one new what kind of resistance we were going to
meet. I do know the army has been known to make a few mistakes in their
wisdom. We called them S.N.A.F.U. which stood for "Situation Normal,
All Fouled Up."
After the first day, we started discarding unneeded equipment.
First the gas masks were taken out of their canvas pouches and thrown
away. Next, we took our remaining "C" rations and put them into the gas
mask bags. Then we threw away our packs, taking the blanket and rolling
it inside the poncho. A poncho is a rubber skirt like rain coat with a
hole in the middle to put your head through and had snaps, so two could
be put together as a sort of tent. We took all the ammunition out of
our cartridge belts and slipped them on our banolier straps and used the
cartridge belts for our canteens and the first aid kits. Usually, we
only carried one canteen and one first aid kit. We then had every third
man keep his helmet. The rest were thrown away. The helmet that was
kept, was traded off to a different man every day and the rest of the
time he wore a soft green hat. The reason we kept the helmets was to
cook and wash and shave in. I'll tell you, I've had some wild food come
out of one those helmets. I'll tell you about that as we go. That was
about all we could get rid of, except some of the guys cut the arms our
their jackets and the legs from their pants. They claimed it was easier
to get the leaches off of them after we had forded some of the rivers
and swamps that seemed to make up half the countryside. I didn't do any
cutting, because the mosquitos really bothered me. I guess they
bothered everybody, but they sure drove me crazy. The insect repellent
we had must have helped some, but it wasn't long before it was gone.
I guess I better explain here why we had to live off the country.
As I said the mission we were on required a certain amount of secrecy.
The only way to replenish our supplies was with an air drop which had to
be made in daylight. The parachutes could be seen from a long way off.
Even with low level drops, the spotter stations we were after probably
would have seen them, as they were at the highest elevation around. So
you see, we couldn't take a chance. Living off the country meant eating
anything we could find that was edible. Wild animals of every
description. Please believe me. We ate cats, rats, snakes, lizards,
water buffalo, dogs, chickens, ducks, and everything that grew and was
edible. There were many times, I almost threw up what I had just eaten,
but, I never actually did. When you are hungry, you will eat anything
that you can find. First, you have to know what really being hungry is
like, and I am not sure I can describe it so you can really understand.
If you were dope addicts, I could say it is as bad as needing a fix. Or
if you had a deep wound or a broken leg and nothing for the pain and you
would do anything for relief. I think that at times, hunger is worse
than that. All the things I said we ate were given to us at one time or
another by the natives. Their numbers were reduced a great deal by the
Japs taking all the able bodied men for their labor battalions. The Jap
patrols made periodic sweeps through the native villages, always picking
up a few more each time. Because of this and the rape and abuse of the
women and children, they were hated by everyone they came in contact
with. The natives were extremely kind and helpful to us. Of course,
all Americans are soft hearted slobs, always feeling sorry for people
that don't have anything, or some little boy or girl that reminds them
of someone at home. Americans have always been and always will be a
soft touch for anybody with a sad story. It always paid off for us,
even if we hadn't planned it. I didn't think too much about it then,
but later on, as I grew older and even now, I sometimes tremble with
pride, because I was a part of that time. Lets leave off the flag
waving and get on with it.
Our progress was slow, the terrain, which was straight up and
straight down was heavily covered with jungle, so progress was slow. It
took us three days from dawn to dusk walking, slipping, sliding, wading,
and swimming to reach our first objective. It was a small compound on
top of a hill about two hundred feet high. By compound, I mean a small
area about a hundred feet square with bamboo walls about eight feet
high. It had holes in the wall at head height to see and shoot out of,
kind of like the ones I'm sure you have seen in the movies. It had a
radio antenna about a hundred feet high. Our job was to destroy all the
radio equipment and disperse or kill all the personnel on the site. We
formed a fan shape and climbed about half way up the hill. There, we
dug in for the night and maintained complete quiet. No talking, no
smoking, and we had eaten before we started up. At dawn, we crept the
remainder of the way up the stockade. We all got into position and
waited for the word "Go". In about ten minutes, hand signals sent us on
our way. The main posts of the walls were buried in the ground, but all
the rest were tied to horizontal cross pieces with some kind of vine.
One swipe with a machete and they just fell on the ground. We were
immediately through and lining up on our target. When the Japs saw us,
they just put their hands up. None of them were armed. We had them all
strip to their underwear and sit on the ground back to back. Two guys
were assigned to watch them The rest of us went about our business
setting explosive charges. It didn't take long. We went a little way
down the trial and took cover in the trees. The charges were set off
with an electric detonator like the ones we used on the turd snappers.
I didn't think we had set very heavy charges, but when they went off, it
absolutely leveled the place. There wasn't one single thing left
standing, not even the fence around it. Several fires were burning, but
we didn't wait to see anymore. We went back to the bottom of the hill
to regroup. The prisoners were a problem. We weren't supposed to take
any since they couldn't be expected to travel with us. Our C.O. decided
to turn them over to the local natives. They seemed only too glad to
take charge of them. We found out later that the same prisoners we had
turned over to the natives were a group that had captured and tortured
some of their women. According to the story we were told, the natives
killed all of them very slowly. I guess they got even with the Japs for
a change. All the natives really hated the Japs with a passion.
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