ATTACK AT DAWN

Press, Volume LXXIX, Issue 24094, 2 November 1943, Page 5

ATTACK AT DAWN

Treasury Islands Engagement

NEW ZEALANDERS LAND FIRST (N.Z.E.F. Official News Service) SOUTH PACIFIC, October 31. A dim black mass, almost lost in low flying cloud, loomed up off the starboard bow. There was just enough light to distinguish the silhouette from the flat endless expanse of tropical ocean. A brief sharp shower of ram came, and dark shadows, which were men. shuffled under what shelter they could find on the decks of the troopcarrying destroyer, now slowing down rapidly after a long sea crossing. The men had little to say. They were watching the misshapen outline ahead, which was to be the end of their journey for this day. None mentioned the name of the mass that slowly materialised into wooded island slopes. It was not the name of the island ahead, but the task on hand that mattered. The Treasury Islands held immediate attention because there were enemy there, because this was a British island group before the war, and because the sooner the Japanese were thrown off, the nearer would be the end of the Nipponese dream of Greater Asia. v . , , , . .. A strong suspicion lurked in the minds of the men that the blow they would strike this day might well be the spearhead of a vast attack on the nearby Japanese stronghold of Bougainville. If that were so, then they were privileged beyond all measure to have the honour of being first in. Small landing craft were being lowered from the ship’s side, and the men piled quietly in, crouching low, light packs on their backs, rifles or machine-guns at their sides. The roar of the small crafts’ engines, and they moved out on to the ocean, quite slowly as if sizing up the position before the final dash.

Waiting: The route was to be round a headland in front, and thence to a beach on Blanche harbour, lying between the two main islands of the group. Off the headland the boats stopped, and lay rocking in the trough of the sea. The silence was unnatural. The men were shiftless. They wanted to be on with the job. Suddenly all hell broke loose. Allied warships lying off the harbour entrance pumped shells at point-blank range on to the beaches, which the men could not see. The roar of the guns smashed the silence like bursts of intense thunder. Screaming shells laid streams of strange tracer in their wake. The flash of gunfire burnt the very air of dawn. Under this canopy of fire, stocky gunboats ambled through the harbour entrance. From both sides of their green and brown striped hulls they belted the shores with everything they had. vomiting fire and smoke that shrouded themselves and the beaches in a screen of impenetrable haze so thick that even the flash of exploding shells as veiled. Relentlessly, up and down the coast, as casual as shopwalkers, they plodded round the enclosed waters. The men who rounded the headland in the land-

ing craft were spellbound at the brilliance of the spectacle. It was as if a thousand Guy Fawkes days were rolled into one. It gave confidence to the soldjers, spurred them on to the assault task, and as their boats gathered speed and turned towards the narrow beaches from which the barrage had now shifted; and edged closer to the enemy, they felt that tenseness of nerves that always precedes a crisis. They knew their orders, knew their objectives, knew the victory they had to win, and the cost they might have to pay. Under Fire

A mortar bomb exploded in the sea. Shrapnel from another spattered a boat full of men. A, soldier was thrown overboard by the blast of a bomb. He had already been woiihded in a' leg. and could not hold his balance. Crackling rifle fire came from Japanese pillboxes lining the shore. Snipers fired from foxholes, from behind rocks, and from trees, bushes and huts. Our men could not get at them yet, but once they hit the beach the scales were better balanced, and the New Zealanders rushed to land, charged the gaping pillboxes, and dodged from cover to cover as enemy mortals plastered an accurate pattern along the line of the advance.

The struggle for beach supremacy was brief but bitter. Mortars were our worst enemy. Fighting on their own ground, the Japanese gun crews knew their range to a nicety. They placed their bombs with deadly precision. Three-inch mountain guns, secreted back on the spurs of the jungle hills, added their quota. The toughest opposition was met near the native village of Falamai, which had been Japanese headquarters, This is where a pillbox of five Japanese was cleaned out by a party of New Zealanders who walked Into the line of fire before they realised the enemy’s presence. A quick rush to the top of the pit, and bursts of a Tommy gun finished two of the enemy. The other three, not waiting for their turn, pulled the pins of their own grenades, and went out with the ensuing bang. Bulldozer Kills Japanese An enterprising American bulldozer driver accounted for three of the enemy in a neighbouring pit by the simple process of charging the pit with his machine, crashing to the centre, and wheeling sharply on one tread. The one operation killed and buried the occupants. It was a courageous action by the American, who had just driven from a cargo vessel to form a road along the beach. Seated high on the dulldozer he was an open target for rifle fire, but set right to his job, with scant regard for his own lack of protection. , , ' Twice during the forenoon Unloading and constructional work on the beach was interrupted by intense fire from Japanese guns placed back in the hills. For the first time the New Zealanders experienced the devilishly telling effect of closely patterned mortar bombing. It was hard to know where td seek shelter, as the pattern dropped closer and closer to your own particular station, and you felt the blast from the nearby explosion. Back from the beach was the safest, but there were men who could not leave the beach. They were the working parties, unloading cargo from vulnerable shipping close up on the sand. They stopped only when bombs came perilously close. Otherwise they were forced to stand the chance of a sudden change of range. The Casualties

Casualty stations worked overtime. Their number of stretchers was limited, and wounded men waited patiently without complaint, while bombs burst round them, to take their turn under the medical officers’ expert attention. There were walking cases with jagged wounds in the upper chest or arms, men with leg and stomach wounds, who could only lie and wait. They bore their wounds bravely, these American and New Zealand heroes. Still others, carried into the shade of the jungle, lay inert on stretchers, and covers were over their heads. They had contributed in full to the cost of this stern battle. But just at noon the mortars ceased to tumble on us, and we learned later that patrols from one battalion, nearing the enemy gun positions, had pinpointed them, crept slowly in, and wiped them out at the bayonet point and with grenades. There was little more trouble from the enemy for the rest of that day, and inland where our companies had pressed hard up the ridges and valleys, we were harassing the Japanese with our own mortars, giving the enemy no respite, keeping him on the move, piling up his casualties, forcing him into the heart of the forest.

As night fell it was apparent that the situation was well in hand. An eventful and at times fearful day had brought the success borne of determination and courage to win. Good men had fallen in the battle, men who served their country well, and whose con-

tribution to the successful assault was one of which New Zealand will be proud. Yet our casualties were undoubtedly light considering the nature of the engagement, and greatly below those inflicted on the enemy. It was with feelings of satisfaction that the Allied troops settled down in their shallow slit trenches at the end of this day. In their baptism of fire —for this brigade had not been in the Vella Lavella fighting—New Zealanders had given of their best, and done what other New Zealanders have done before in this and earlier wars. They had beaten back the foe.