HISTORY of the SECOND ENGINEER SPECIAL BRIGADE UNITED STATES ARMY WORLD WAR II Copyright 1946 By THE TELEGRAPH PRESS Designed and produced by THE TELEGRAPH PRESS HARRISBURG, PA. Printed in the U. S. A. =================================== Table of Contents Title Page Contents Letters Foreword Chapter I. Early Days on Cape Cod Chapter II. Last Days in the U.S. Chapter III. In Sunny Queensland Chapter IV. Baptism of Fire Chapter V. Salamaua, Lae, and Finschhafen Chapter VI. New Britain, Saidor and the Admiralties Chapter VII. Hollandia and Tanahmerah Chapter VIII. Closing Days of the New Guinea Campaign Chapter IX. The Leyte Landing Chapter XX. Mindoro Chapter XI. On To Corregidor Chapter XII. The Victor Operations Chapter XIII. Intermission. VE-Day and Readjustment Chapter XIV. Victory The 2nd ESB in Verse The 2nd ESB as Seen by "Yank" Epilogue Appendices A. The Brigade Score Board B. The War Diary C. Unit Commanders D. Decorations and Citations E. Commendations F. Casualties G. Small Ships Section =================================== GENERAL HEADQUARTERS SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA Office of the Commander-in-Chief AG 370.2 (19 Mar 45)E A.P.O.500, 19 March 1945. SUBJECT: Engineer Special Brigades. TO: The Chief of Staff, War Department, Washington 25, D. C. 1. In the succession of Amphibious operations up the coast of New Guinea to Morotai, thence to the Philippines, the performance of the 2nd, 3rd and 4th Engineer Special Brigades has been outstanding. The soundness of the decision in 1942 to form organizations of this type has been borne out in all action in which they have participated. These units have contributed much to the rapid and successful prosecution of the war in the Southwest Pacific Area. I recommend that careful consideration be given to the perpetuation and expansion of such units in the future Army set-up. 2. I pass on to you an item extracted from a report to me from Headquarters, Administrative Command, Seventh Amphibious Force, file A16-3, Serial No. 0078, dated 15 February 1945, subject: "Report of the Lingayen Operation - San Fabian Attack Forces." "It is believed that the Engineer Special Brigade as organized in the Southwest Pacific Area is the most efficient Shore Party organization now functioning In amphibious warfare and that the permanent organizations of these regiments have contributed in a large measure to the success of amphibious operation in this theater." DOUGLAS MACARTHUR, General of the Army, United States Army, Commander-in-Chief Major General Daniel Noce, Commanding General, Engineer Amphibian Commands, wishes Godspeed and Good Luck to Brigadier General W. F. Heavey, Commanding General, Second Engineer Special Brigade at Fort Ord, California just prior to departure of the Brigade for Australia, January, 1943. STATEMENT BY MAJOR GENERAL DANIEL NOCE COMMANDING GENERAL, ENGINEER AMPHIBIAN COMMAND The Second Engineer Special Brigade more than lived up to the motto of the Engineer Amphibian Command: "Put 'Em Across" This Brigade holds the unique distinction of having participated in more amphibious operations than any other unit of the armed forces of the United States, and has never failed to make those landings stick. I am deeply grateful for having had the honor of forming and training this Brigade for the stern tasks which it accomplished so well and share with each of you your personal pride in this organization, your satisfaction in a job well done, and your remembrances of those who fell in action. Photo of General Daniel Noce, Commanding General, Engineer Amphibian Commands, wishes Godspeed and Good Luck to Brigadier General W.F. Heavey, Commanding General, Second Engineer Special Brigade at Fort Ord, California just prior to departure of the Brigade for Australia, January, 1943. HEADQUARTERS, SIXTH ARMY. Office of the Commanding General APO 442 San Francisco California December 12 1945 Brigadier General W. F. Heavey 917 18th Street, N.W. Washington, D. C. Dear Heavey: Your fine letter of December 1, 1945 reached me a short time ago. Your most flattering comments about myself and my staff moved me deeply. We always did our best, but I feel that the success of all the tasks assigned to the Sixth Army was due almost exclusively to the troops. The Second Engineer Special Brigade, under your able leadership, did an outstanding job while serving with the Sixth Army. The record you made may have been equaled by other units, but I am sure that it has never been surpassed. It was a matter of great regret to me that I did not see you before your departure for home. However, I want you to know that I shall always remember the fine work done by the Second Engineer Special Brigade under any and all conditions. With warm personal regards to you, and best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and all members of your command Faithfully yours. /s/ Walter Krueger WALTER KRUEGER General, U.S. Army Photo of Lieutenant General Brehon B Somervell Commanding General, Services of Supply, US Army =================================== FOREWORD This is the story of the Second Engineer Special Brigade in World War II. An amphibian unit of the Corps of Engineers, U. S. Army, it was first designated as the Second Engineer Amphibian Brigade, the present title having been adopted after arrival in Australia early in 1943. Its entire foreign service was devoted to the Pacific theater of operations, and at no time after the brigade entered combat in New Guinea was it ever pulled out for rest, which caused General Krueger, Sixth Army Commander, to observe that the brigade has been in more combat operations than any other unit in the theater. The following units made up the brigade: BRIGADE HEADQUARTERS & HEADQUARTERS COMPANY 532D ENGINEER BOAT & SHORE REGIMENT 542D ENGINEER BOAT & SHORE REGIMENT 592D ENGINEER BOAT & SHORE REGIMENT 562D ENGINEER BOAT MAINTENANCE BATTALION 262D MEDICAL BATTALION 287TH SIGNAL COMPANY 162D ORDNANCE MAINTENANCE COMPANY QUARTERMASTER HEADQUARTERS & HEADQUARTERS 3948TH ORDNANCE MEDIUM MAINTENANCE COMPANY 695TH QUARTERMASTER TRUCK COMPANY 5204TH AMPH I BIAN TRUCK COMPANY 189TH QUARTERMASTER GAS SUPPLY COMPANY SUPPORT BATTERY MEDICAL DETACHMENT, 2 ESB 2D ENGINEER AMPHIBIAN BRIGADE BAND (LATER DESIGNATED 416TH ARMY SERVICE FORCES BAND) =================================== Chapter I Early Days on Cape Cod THE 2d Engineer Special Brigade was born on the sandy shore of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, on 20 June 1942. There was no celebration. There was no publicity, On the other hand, everything was "SECRET". Announcement of the event was proclaimed only by the roar of motors and the sight of queer looking landing craft splashing through the choppy waters of Nantucket Sound. The new brigade's first day of life was a day of work. Although training of the new unit was veiled in secrecy, it was not long before the local residents of that picturesque cape showed keen interest in the "boys with the boats". Little was known about the military newcomers. There were men, and there were boats. Maybe they were like the British Commandos. Maybe not! But gradually they began to refer to the new Amphibians as "Cape Cod Commandos" The men of the 2d Brigade heard and joked about their new nickname. They seemed to enjoy the implication, but they were always quick to explain to a listener just why the name didn't exactly fit. "Commandos hit and run. We hit but we don't run." However, the name stuck. It followed them across the United States and the Pacific Ocean to Australia, New Guinea, New Britain and the Philippines. When tropical typhoons or Jap gunfire made their situation precarious or unpleasant, there was always someone to yell, "Come on, you Cape Cod Commandos". And they did. When they were lonely and tired, there was always someone to jokingly say, "Snap out of it, you Cape Cod Commandos, and laugh". And they did. But what about those first few months of the brigade's life that were spent on Cape Cod? Why are they always brought into a discussion on the brigade history? Why will they never be forgotten? Those were hectic days. The long hours, hard work, strict discipline and rugged living conditions were such a complete reversal of their previous army or civilian life that you couldn't blame the men for griping. But what they went through there was worth it. More than once it has paid dividends when the chips were down. The present 2d Engineer Special Brigade was originally known as the 2d Engineer Amphibian Brigade. For the first six weeks of its existence it was under the direction of the Engineer Amphibian Command and its Commanding Officer, Daniel M. Noce, Colonel, CE. This period was spent mainly in getting organized, equipped and schooled in basic elements. Why the Engineer Amphibian Command and its separate brigades were formed and how personnel for these brigades was obtained is in itself an interesting story that can well be told here. The declaration of war against the governments of Italy, Germany and Japan was the signal for the best military and naval strategists in the country to bend every effort toward the planning of methods to combat the modern blitzkrieg type of warfare employed by our enemies. One of the major problems confronting the high command was that of getting at the enemy most effectively We could have the tools of war and the men trained to use them, but they would be of no value unless they could be transported into enemy strongholds. The solution of the problem was the development of amphibious warfare. It was not a new idea, nor was it to be used for the first time in history. Inherited from Scipio who crossed the Mediterranean, from William the Conqueror who took an army across the English Channel and from Washington who crossed the Delaware, it remained for the Army and Navy to modernize it to meet the present emergency. Six months after the attack on Pearl Harbor the War Department formed the Engineer Amphibian Command for the purpose of organizing and training army personnel in the operation of landing craft and the establishment of beachheads. Although security restrictions prohibited widespread publication of this new type of unit, knowledge of its existence and the general nature of its duties created interest among civilian boating groups and military personnel who possessed marine experience either as a hobby or as an occupation. The Army Recruiting and Induction Service ran advertisements in leading newspapers and distributed pamphlets through coastal areas to attract men to the "Water Taxi Service". While classed as an Engineer Unit, the Amphibian Engineers drew officers and men from all branches of the Army. Officers from the Navy, the Coast Guard, the Marine Corps and the Coast and Geodetic Survey were detailed to act as instructors in their specialties. Seaman from the merchant Marine, masters of vessels on the Great Lakes and amateur yachtsmen from Long Island Sound and Lake St. Clair volunteered. Contractors, road builders, carpenters, warehousemen blacksmiths, longshoremen, mechanics and boat builders joined. The percentage of volunteers to undertake this new type of training exceeded all expectations. Some men selected the Amphibian Engineers because it held promise of early and hard-hitting conflict with the enemy. Their expectations were realized, for, less than a year later, they were "hitting the beach" in enemy-held territory. As rapidly as possible nearly four hundred officers and over seven thousand men were assigned to duties in the 2d Engineer Special Brigade. The manner of assignment is still the butt of many jokes, but three years later the number of men still doing the job to which they were originally assigned indicates that it wasn't so badly done. Skillful boat operation was the goal of the preliminary training. Under the watchful eye of Donald C. Hawkins, Colonel, CE, the men were taught the feel of the boats and the rudiments of navigation. He believed that actual experience is the best teacher, so the men learned boat operation the hard way - with plenty of long, hard work and little sleep. But they never forgot what they learned. The men still say that those days under Colonel Hawkins "separated the men from the boys" among the boatmen. Their first job was to establish a camp at Cotuit cut out of virgin forest. No sooner was the camp completed than an extension of the Amphibian Command required a move to Washburne Island at Waquoit, the first real home of the 592d Engineer Boat Regiment. It was later split to furnish a Boat Battalion to each of the three regiments of the brigade. At the same time, the shore engineers were getting their initial training under Lieutenant Colonel (later Colonel) Robert J. Kasper of Carmel, California, in Camp Edwards proper. Basic training as engineer soldiers and training in operation of the many types of heavy engineer equipment with which the brigade was to be equipped were prime considerations. The nucleus of the 562d Engineer Boat Maintenance Battalion was formed at Osterville where a boat yard was taken over by the 562d Engineer Boat Maintenance Company under Captain (later Major) John A. Wells of Louisville, Kentucky. This company had some of the best boat mechanics in the United States. Their ingenuity and originality in keeping craft running when parts were not available later in the Southwest Pacific paid great dividends. Photo of Brigadier General William F Heavey During this period the 262d Medical Battalion was activated at Camp Edwards. By the end of July it was fully organized and operating with Major (later Lt. Col.) Fielding M. Pope at Brownwood, Texas, in command. The battalion engaged in landing maneuvers during August with the boat and shore regiments where medical deficiencies and difficulties were discovered and ironed out, and soon "the medics" were becoming a smooth working part of the Amphibian team. Our "spare parts" companies, all important to the functioning of a brigade, were also being formed at Camp Edwards during this period. Early in August 1942 William F. Heavey, Colonel, CE, arrived from the Louisiana Maneuvers and took command of the brigade. Graduated from West Point in 1917, he had seen nine months combat service in France in 1918. He admitted that his experience with boats was not extensive but that he was ready to learn all about them and to do everything in his power to make the 2d Engineer Special Brigade a unit that would bring honor and credit to the Army of the United States. As this story unravels, it will be seen how gradually but surely this objective was accomplished. A large number of carefully selected men were first sent to various schools through- out the country for specialized training in boat operation and maintenance. Some of these schools were the Gray Marine Diesel School in New Orleans, the General Motors Institute in Detroit, and the Chris Craft Hull and Repair School in Algonac, Michigan. These courses were most intensive and covered in detail every step in complete boat maintenance procedure. When the men returned to the brigade, a program was immediately started in which they instructed their fellow Amphibs in the methods they had learned. As soon as organization and basic training were completed, the program was stepped up. Simulated combat operations were planned and executed. Working at first with small units and later, as more craft became available, with battalions and regiments of the 45th Infantry Division, the brigade landing barges ploughed through the rough waters off Cape Cod to land these infantry troops on Martha's Vineyard - a beach presumed to be enemy territory. Transporting battle-equipped infantry soldiers, supplies, equipment, field pieces, motor vehicles, dozers and tanks they strove to achieve the split-second accuracy in timing which is of primary importance in amphibious operations. The boatmen first had to learn their boats, how to land them in surf, keep them from being broached and then retract off the beach through the surf to bring in more troops and supplies. It was a job that could be learned only through bitter experience. They had to learn how to move in wave formation of eight to twelve boats with various maneuvers for approach at night or under fire in the daytime and how to deploy when attacked from the air. Then followed training in larger formations finally concluding with an entire boat battalion of 120 craft in one operation. The shore units, at first divided into "near shore" and "far shore" companies, participated in these practice landings by loading and unloading boats and setting up shore installations on the presumed enemy territory. The original idea was to have a near shore company, trained in the proper methods of loading boats to capacity and still not destroy their equilibrium, remain on the friendly shore and load ships embarking on an operation. The far shore company would establish the beachhead in enemy territory. Its mission included building landing ramps for the amphibious vehicles, clearing the beach of obstacles and mines, constructing exits from the beach proper and many similar jobs. In addition to unloading ships, the far shore companies would protect the newly-won beachhead from enemy counterattack, either by land and sea, or air. They had to make preparations to facilitate the handling of the expanding amounts of supplies and the increased number of men that would arrive in subsequent waves. It was later learned through actual operations that the work on both the near and far shores could best be handled by the same company, so the shore company that loaded a ship was also placed on the enemy shore in time to unload that ship when it arrived. These shore engineers also had to be efficient combat soldiers and trained to fight. More than once the men of the shore companies and the boat companies too have demonstrated their ability to fight as infantrymen to hold and establish their objective beachhead. Initially the majority of the landing craft used by the brigade were LCP(R) s and LCVs. Some were gasoline operated and some used diesel fuel. The LCP(R) was used for the transportation of personnel and the LCV for vehicles. Throughout this story the type of landing craft used for particular operations will be indicated by initials. To assist the reader, the prefix "LC" means "Landing Craft". Thus, LCP(R) means "Landing Craft Personnel (Ramp)" and LCV stands for "Landing Craft Vehicle". At this time the brigade had only a few of the larger craft called the LCM (Landing Craft Mechanized), which was later to become the standard craft of the brigade. Much larger than the LCV and diesel operated, it could weather rougher seas, travel longer distances and carry more cargo and personnel. Occasionally LCTs (Landing Craft Tank), crewed by the Navy, participated in the problems of the brigade. To look back now at those early days and to compare those efforts with the large-scale operations in the Philippines, one is inclined to classify the Brigade's early maneuvers on Cap Cod as "small time stuff", but they laid the groundwork upon which the success of later operations was based. Here the decision was made to adopt diesel operated LCMs and LCVPs as the basic craft for the brigade. One event that is always called to mind when relating the experiences of the brigade on Cape Cod is "that parade". On September 10th the brigade had been fully formed and at least fairly well equipped. With the band playing and flags unfurled, the boat and shore engineers of the brigade went through a complete parade carrying not only their weapons but also the anchors, tool kits, medical chests, rope or various other odds and ends of equipment to designate the duty they performed. Wearing their heavy rubber parkas and paratroop boots, the men sweltered under the hot September sun. It was a unique and colorful spectacle giving all some idea of the variety and immensity of the unit. Brigadier General Noce, Commanding General of the Engineer Amphibian Command, joined General Heavy in taking this remarkable review. It was later repeated for a large group of senior Army and Navy Officers from Washington. During the 2d Brigade's last few weeks on Cape Cod it lost nearly three thousand men through group transfers as cadres for other amphibian units. It seemed as if those long hours of boat and shore training were almost in vain, because no sooner did a man get fairly well trained in his job than, Zingo!! he was gone and a new man arrived to be trained from the bottom up. Despite all this exchange of personnel, the work of the brigade continued without much interruption. The training with the 45th Division ended with a problem which did not go off too well. Some waves of boats got lost at night in the murky waters off Martha's Vineyard and failed to land on schedule. All made it to the far shore but things did not click. Everyone was convinced the Amphibian's job was no easy one and, with this in mind, they became more determined than ever to solve all problems, overcome all difficulties, and become an outfit that would always "Put em across" on time and at the right place. Brigade Officers at final review of 2d Engineer Amphibian Brigade, Fort Ord, California While the 2d Brigade was being formed as a part of the Engineer Amphibian Command, another unit on Cape Cod - the Amphibious Training Command under Brigadier General Keating was busily engaged in training Rangers in commando tactics. During the last few days of September 1942, brigade boatmen worked with the Rangers and another new arrival, the 36th Infantry Division. This work culminated in the only large-scale maneuver the brigade ever held in the United States. They still refer to it as the "Martha's Vineyard Maneuvers" and participants are proud to relate their experiences in that maneuver to any listener. It was as realistic as actual combat except for the spilling of blood. Extensive plans for the maneuver were made - the boats were put in tip-top shape, the men were carefully instructed in the duties they would perform, maps were checked and courses plotted, liaison contacts were made with the 36th Division and the Rangers. Arrangements were made to care for the large group of high ranking Army and Navy Officers who were coming from Washington and elsewhere to witness the maneuvers. Nothing was overlooked. It was planned that on D-Day at H-Hour the main attacking force would land on Red Beach while supporting units landed on nearby Yellow and Green Beaches. Loading on the mainland was not started until dark fell. Troops and equipment of all kinds had to be loaded and the fifty-mile trip made through choppy seas and murky darkness to hit the far shore exactly at "first light". As the appointed hour approached, the guests and observers waited on a high promontory above Red Beach. Lieutenant General McNair, Commanding General of the Army Ground Forces, Brigadier General Sturdevant, Assistant Chief of Engineers, and Brigadier General Moses from Headquarters, Army Service Forces, were honored guests. Brigadier General Noce and Colonel Trudeau of the Engineer Amphibian Command, Brigadier General Keating and Colonel Wolfe of the Amphibious Training Command and Brigadier General Ogden of the 3rd Brigade were present as observers. 1st Lieutenant (later Lt. Col.) Karl W. Blanchard of Joplin, Missouri, was on the shore with these officers to invite attention to and explain evey minute detail. There was an intense air of expectancy, when, out of the inky blackness of the sea below, one lone boat approached. It came closer to shore and a boatman hollered, "Hey, is this Red Beach?" A snicker went through the crowd. "The Army Amphibs are lost", someone remarked. But it was soon explained this boat was not in the landing force. It was an "enemy" boat sent out to set off charges to simulate firing on the landing force. Actually the landing craft were on the way in column formation dosed up in order to keep contact in the darkness and following the navigation boats in which were General Heavey, Lieutenant Colonel Ernest D. Brockett and Lieutenant Commander William R. Tucker, and others. The seconds ticked away and H-Hour rapidly approached. From shore there was still no sign of the first wave of boats. Suddenly though, dim shapes loomed through the murk. The offshore wind had drowned out the roar of the engines. The boats were coming! In perfect formation the first wave ploughed through the surf toward the beach. They landed at exactly H-Hour. One officer later remarked that they may have arrived fifteen seconds too soon but that it was so damn cold that his watch had probably frozen for a few seconds. Our first real test had come out perfectly. It was a harbinger of success. After the first wave landed, unloaded and retracted, the successive waves came in on schedule. Troops of the 36th Division and a battalion of Rangers clambered out of the boats and up the beach, simulating an attack on supposed enemy objectives. Planes overhead dropped a company of paratroopers to support the ground forces. Reports soon arrived by radio that the smaller landings on Yellow and Green Beaches, several miles away had clicked perfectly. Observers willingly admitted that troops poured ashore so fast the defenders would have been overwhelmed. Shore Engineers marked the beaches and set about establishing the beachhead by building supply, water, gas and oil, ration and communication installations. The infantry was resupplied by the continuous waves of LCVs, LCMs, and nine LCTs manned by the Navy. Hundreds of tons of actual supplies and ammunition were unloaded by the Shore Engineers and placed in marked dumps. All three beaches were linked at once by radio and later by telephone. One incident during this operation earned for the brigade its first War Department decoration. 1st Lieutenant Ernest B. Huetter, 592d EBSR, of San Francisco, California, was in command of a wave of boats as they made their way across Vineyard Sound. Suddenly one of the boats burst into dense smoke and flames! The heat was so intense that all hands immediately abandoned the boat, and it was left running crazily about at high speed menacing the safety of other craft nearby. To further complicate the situation more smoke pots in the boat caught fire enveloping the area in great clouds of opaque smoke. Lieutenant Huetter first directed the rescue of all men in the water, then boarding the burning boat he brought it under control and subdued the flames with sea water. For his courage and quick thinking in the prevention of what might have been a tragic incident and the holding of the boat damage to a minimum, Lieutenant Huetter was awarded the Soldier's Medal. This sort of courage and aggressive action is exemplary of the many acts of heroism that later became almost commonplace when the brigade moved into action against the Japs. After two days the operation was called to a halt and pronounced a success. General McNair returned to Washington with the firm conviction that the Army had found the one link that was needed to carry the attack to the enemy -- the fast, accurate, and hard-hitting Amphibian Engineers. War Birds Over Ord The art of self-defense in one of its most advanced forms is being taught troops of an Engineer unit stationed at Fort Ord, and these pictures caught by Panaorama photogs will give you an idea of what it's like to be under a strafing by bombers and pursuit planes. Theoretically, a lot of boys were blasted out of their pants in fighting off these attacks, and still speaking theoretically, several of the planes shown here failed to return to their bases. That the planes had the edge in this training is an accepted fact, but when the real thing comes along these men will not be caught napping. One touch of realism was provided both attackers and defenders, however, by the use of flour bombs. The accuracy of the Army airmen was amazing in many instances. For example, one stick of live such "bombs" was laid neatly into the open door of a sound truck stationed at the communications stand, and on another occasion a bomber laid a neat pattern on five machine guns spaced some 15 feet apart, providing guffaws at the expense of the surprised flour-bespattered gunners. Streaking across the parade ground at altitudes as low as 25 feet and from several different directions the planes proved difficult targets, but withal excellent training for the men on the ground. The picture directly below is typical of pursuit strafing tactics. Note low altitude of the plane in background. In the panel at lower right, Capt. Elmer P. Volgenau, anti-aircraft officer, gets speed and altitude from pilots and transmits this information to the defending ground forces, The General and the Captain are in a bad spot here if the pilots decide to release a few flour bombs. =================================== Chapter II Last Days in the U. S. IMMEDIATELY on the heels of the Martha's Vineyard maneuvers came the first major movement of the brigade. The winter months on Cape Cod would be too cold to permit year-round boat training so a search for a more suitable training site in a more favorable climate had been under way for several months. With the exception of the 542nd EBSR, all units of the brigade participated in the move. When the hint of moving was first received, discussions arose among brigade personnel about the proposed destination. Some said that the brigade was sure to go to Ireland, some said to the West Coast, but those "in the know" said "Carrabelle." Then there was an immediate flurry of maps as each one tried to show another the exact location of Carrabelle. Fingers pointed to a spot sixty miles south of Tallahassee, Florida, on the northern gulf coast. Everyone envisioned palm trees swaying back and forth in the cool gulf breezes and the prospect of a warm winter in Florida, the millionaire's paradise. What a surprise was in store for them! The men reported that the train ride down to the new camp area was not so bad "if you didn't mind being crowded into day coaches and breathing coal dust for three days." Some of the LCVs and LCMs made the journey under their own power through the inland waterway. This proved excellent training in navigation and boat operation over a long distance. However, it cannot be compared with the longer trips over much rougher seas that the boatmen later experienced along the New Guinea coast. The majority of the boats were deck loaded on flat cars and sent by rail. The residents of Georgia were astounded to see four solid trains loaded with boats pass through their cotton fields. Then came the big surprise! Carrabelle did have palm trees and cool breezes (at times), but it also had rain, mud, swamps, lizards, chiggers, snakes, wild hogs, deer, flies, mosquitoes, sand fleas and wilderness. The cantonment-type camp we had been told to expect was almost nonexistent. The following weeks can best be described in one word - rough. The job of setting up a new camp in this wilderness was no picnic. Three years later after the brigade had had plenty of experience and reached the point of proficiency in building camps, that particular job still couldn't be considered pleasant. But at Carrabelle everyone pitched in to help build roads, barracks, latrines and mess halls until the camp was fairly well established and "normal" life could be resumed and training started on the shallow beaches and sandy reefs of the Gulf of Mexico. Those individuals possessed with a desire to get out of camp - and who wasn't? had the "pleasure" of visiting Appalachicola, Carrabelle, Sopchoppy, and other "quaint" settlements. Wakulla Springs, the home of the Tarzan movies, and Tallahassee, the home of the Florida State Teachers College for Women, held major attractions for the Amphibs. Needless to say, both were very enjoyable. A training directive issued by the Engineer Amphibian Command called for the brigade remaining at Carrabelle until April 1943 to serve as a training brigade in the preparation of infantry troops for amphibious combat. The Army Ground Forces established an "Amphibious Training Center" adjacent to the brigade's area so everyone began to settle themselves down for a pleasant winterland also a lot of work in the warm Florida climate. Preliminary conferences were held with the 38th Infantry Division relative to maneuvers between camp and Dog Island a few miles offshore. A tentative training program for these combined operations was outlined and schedules prepared for the combined training. The Boat Maintenance Company was busy unloading the boats and setting up its repair shops at Camp Belle a few miles from the brigade camp. Then came the second big surprise! All plans were immediately cancelled when General Heavey received sudden orders to move his brigade to Fort Ord, California, where it would stage for shipment on the first available transports to the Asiatic-Pacific theater of operations. This abrupt change of plans naturally caused feverish activity with regard to both the many details involved in the movement and the personal affairs of the brigade members. It is said many marriages were moved forward. All boats were turned over to the 3d Brigade which was being moved to Carrabelle to replace the 2d Brigade in the proposed training program. There was every reason to believe that the Brigade would be in Ford Ord for only a few days, so those Easterners who had brought their families to Carrabelle in anticipation of a pleasant winter decided not to take them to California. For many the farewells exchanged in Florida were the final ones for the war and for some the last of all. The first few days of November, 1942, found the entire brigade enroute from Carrabelle and Cape Cod to California in nine different trains on three different routes. This was an intimation of how the brigade would later be spread to the four winds in its wide-flung operations. Many of the men got their first glimpse of the wonders of the west during this trip. The Pullman accommodations, while not up to peacetime standards of luxury, were, nevertheless, quite comfortable and most of the men found the trip highly enjoyable. It was much better than the trip from Cape Cod to Carrabelle. Daily stops for exercise on station platforms along the way broke the monotony of continuous riding. However, it is probable that most of the men never fully appreciated the comfort of American train travel until a few months later when they were wheezing along the northeastern coast of Australia in one of the narrow-gauge coaches of a train which, by comparison, was reminiscent of the early American stagecoach. The 542nd Engineer Boat and Shore Regiment under Lieutenant Colonel Kasper rejoined the brigade proceeding direct from Cape Cod to Fort Ord. Once again the entire brigade was together. Fort Ord turned out to be a model garrison with comfortable steam-heated barracks, paved roads, surfaced drill field, excellent bivouac areas immediately adjacent to the camp area, movie theatres, post exchanges, laundry service, and even good rifle, pistol, and machine gun ranges all available on the post. So different from Carrabelle! It was ideally located on the middle California coast north of Monterey Bay and nestled between the fertile, picturesque Salinas Valley truck-farming district and the broad beach of the blue Pacific shore line. The towns of Salinas, Monterey, and Carmel, the latter a well-known artist's retreat with quaint picture-book architecture and an "arty" atmosphere, were close by and very hospitable to the Amphibians. The famous Hotel Del Monte, scene of many national and international golf tournaments, with its rambling buildings and beautiful grounds, was only four miles south of the camp. The scenic seventeen-mile drive along the shore and through the wooded interior of Monterey Peninsula was unforgettable. A soldier lucky enough to draw a three-day pass could have his choice of taking in either the wonders of Los Angeles and Hollywood or of San Francisco. It is little wonder that, only a few months later in the mud and heat of the New Guinea jungle, men of the 2d Brigade reminisced, almost reverently, of their favorite campaign of the war "the Battle of Carmel." No one had to tell them who had won that one, and there were no casualties. In addition to the pursuit of pleasures there was, naturally, work to be done at Ford Ord. The procurement of all authorized equipment, supplies, and personnel and preparing them for overseas shipment were the main problems. The strict overseas physical examination hit the brigade hard. Several hundred had to be transferred out to "limited service." This resulted in an influx of as many new replacements to fill these vacancies. It was, as someone remarked, "All very confusing, but exciting." As the work progressed - and delaying orders were received - it became apparent that, instead of a brief stopover of a few days, the brigade might be stationed at Fort Ord until Spring, A number of officers and men, gambling against an early departure, sent for their wives and families and rented living accommodations for them in one of the surrounding communities. The continuation of a training program presented some rather difficult problems. Most of the equipment needed for proper training had already been sent to the Port of Embarkation or had to be kept packed and ready for early shipment. As no one could say definitely when the brigade would leave, there was doubt as to whether or not any projected schedule of training could be completed when once begun. A few old-style landing barges were available at the Presidio of Monterey and arrangements were made for the boat companies to use them by rotation so they wouldn't forget entirely what they had learned during those long days of training at Cape Cod. The rifles, pistol, and machine-gun ranges were in almost constant use as unit after unit took turns at a "day on the range." Cargo nets were hung over high wooden frames made to resemble the hull of a ship, and men were trained in the proper methods of scaling and descending these nets, for no one could tell when or how rapidly he might have to abandon ship in the mid-Pacific. Overnight hikes to the nearby bivouac areas were frequent. This was to provide training in the establishment of field camps and to give every man an idea of the rigors of "camping out." One of these nights will be long remembered. Camp was made after dark and it was not until daybreak that it was discovered that the camp area was covered with poison oak. The resulting "casualties" were high but did not approach those caused by the "jungle rot" we were later to fight in New Guinea. Units were given close and extended order drill almost daily. Demonstrations were arranged to explain to all personnel the use of rubber life rafts, how to properly waterproof vehicles, how to identify friendly and enemy aircraft, how to fire rifle grenades and to toss the hand grenade. A five-week's course in antiaircraft gunnery, under the direction of Captain (later Lt. Col.) Elmer P. Volgenau, of Clarence, New York, was held on the parade ground. Three thousand officers and enlisted men were taught all about machine guns and how to fire them at enemy planes. Every day for over a week, A-20's and P-40's would swoop down realistically out of the clouds and skim a few feet over the heads of the gunners who tried to keep them within their sights and knock them out with their simulated fire. Three years later the total number of actual enemy planes the brigade had shot down was sufficient evidence to prove that this training was not in vain. Probably its major value was the confidence it gave our men. Fort Ord, California. Christmas Day, 1942. Brig Gen Heavey and Col. Fitch, Commanding Officer of Fort Ord, review the entire Brigade. Fort Ord, California, Christmas, 1942. Christmas Mass. Gen Heavey and Lt Col Simpson inspect knives donated to 2 ESB at Fort Ord, California The 2d Brigade was the first army unit to introduce and have actual training in the use of the "Duck." These two and a half ton amphibious vehicles, designed and manufactured by General Motors Corporation with the model number "DUKW," but promptly nicknamed "Ducks, created a great deal of excitement when they first made an appearance on the roads of Fort Ord. Essentially a steel-hulled six by six truck formed into a boat with propeller and rudder superimposed on the stern, it was designed for short water crossings and for the unloading of ships anchored at sea, While at Fort Ord a rigid course in the operation and maintenance of these vehicles was conducted for the brigade personnel by representatives of General Motors Corporation. Defects found in this strenuous training period were corrected in future construction contracts. This period of garrison duty gave the unit athletic officers a chance for some organized athletics. Every Thursday night a grand evening of boxing was presented. The friendly rivalry between the units did much to cement them into a solidified brigade. All were astonished to find such fine fighters in the brigade. The Amphibians established their reputation as a fighting brigade. Lieutenant (later Major) Arthur L. Barrett of Flushing, New York, had much to do with staging these successful shows. That there was a deeply religious feeling in the brigade was evidenced by the Christmas Eve services. Chaplain Henry S. Stout of Tampa, Florida, had a large congregation for his Protestant services. At midnight Chaplains Leonard A. LeClair, of Lewiston, Maine, Paul J. Hallinan, of Painesville, Ohio and Raymond 0. Mejer of Sharon, Pennsylvania, held Solemn High Mass for over three thousand members of the brigade. Corporal James G. Morgan Jr., Brigade Headquarters Company of Swedesboro, New Jersey, organized a choir which deeply impressed all present. Thought was given to the difficult, unknown days ahead of us. No one could foresee that this choir was destined to broadcast from the Philippines on Xmas eve of 1944. On Christmas Day, 1942, General Heavey reviewed the entire brigade on the Fort Ord Parade Ground. It was the first opportunity the brigade had had to hold a review of this size and every effort was expended to make it a success. Colonel Fitch, the Commanding Officer of Ford Ord, reviewed the parade with General Heavey. The neat appearance of the men wearing their steel helmets, paraboots, and overcoats made a deep impression on every visitor present, and from the remarks overhead in the barracks later, there were few Amphibs who didn't get an inner thrill in having been a participant in the parade that day. It was the first parade in the American Army in which an Amphibian Truck Company rolled by in its "Ducks." It was commanded by Captain (later Lt. Col.) Cecil R. Bilger of King Fisher, Oklahoma, On its guidon was proudly displayed "Donald Duck, 2 ESB." Shortly after Christmas, through the kind efforts of the local newspapers, the citizens of the neighboring communities voluntarily contributed an assortment of over fifteen hundred hunting knives of all descriptions to the Amphibs to be used in their coming attack on the Japs. Within six months some of these knives had been driven into live Japs. A few months after the brigade had departed Fort Ord they were pleasantly surprised to learn that the terrace adjoining the hill on which the Brigade Headquarters had been located was renamed "Amphibian Terrace" in honor of the Second Brigade. After the holiday season had passed, work on preparations for shipment overseas was intensified. Final embarkation orders were received in mid-January, 1943, and there was a rush on the post exchanges to buy last-minute supplies of personal items until barracks bags bulged. There were a few final inspections and other bits of "unfinished business," both on and off the post, to complete. Then, in the cool of Sunday morning, January 24, 1943, the first trainload of Amphibians took the northbound express to the Port of Embarkation at San Francisco. Others followed in the next few days. We were pleased to learn later that the Inspector General at the Port officially reported that the units of the Brigade impressed him as the most efficient which had passed through that port in the year he had been at that port =================================== Chapter III In Sunny Queensland If there were mixed emotions as the transports glided under the Golden Gate bridge and pushed their noses into the stormy seas ahead, there was a definite exhilaration that now we were on the way to do the job for which we had trained so hard. Mingled with these were thoughts of loved ones left behind and the realization that some of us, possibly many of us would never return. "Surely", everyone thought, we will be back someday. The only question we ask is, "Which one of these slogans will be most accurate? Golden Shore in '44, back alive in '45, or (perish the thought) Golden Gate in '48". Most of us guessed between '45 and '48. The next few weeks were long and monotonous. The transports moved, not in large convoys, but singly and in small numbers, zig-zagging their way by varied routes, through the Jap-infested waters of the Pacific, blacked out from dusk to dawn. Tours of guard duty and kitchen police aboard ship were almost welcome. Time was spent in playing cards (with or without money), reading every scrap of paper available (foremost of which was the ship's daily paper), listening to the radio shows broadcast over the ship's loudspeaker system, eating excellent chow, and sleeping. Most of the men got their sea legs within a few days, but there were some who were less fortunate. Everyone "sympathized" with these seasick buddies by bringing them delicious pork sandwiches, commenting on the roughness of the sea, and explaining how close land was - straight down. There were two big events in the trip - the crossing of the Equator and of the International Date Line. For several days prior to their entrance into the southern hemisphere, ominous warnings were circulated about the coming visit of King Neptune and his Royal Court. When the day arrived, the Amphibs were surprised to see droves of men in various stages of dress and undress and painted like wild Indians cavorting about the ship. Instinctively they tried to make themselves scarce, but with so few hiding places available, they were easily ferreted out. They were given the pleasure of being presented to the "Royal Court," the joy of having an odorous rotten egg and catsup shampoo, and the ecstacy of kissing the "Royal Baby." Unforgettable! One of the fortunates (?) later remarked that he thought the whole thing was a frame-up, because he "never did see no line on the water that day." The day they crossed the date line did not occasion any celebration. Some of the men lost a birthday anniversary (it was surprising how may were born on that particular day of the year), and it did seem strange to just skip a day on the calendar, but the men figured that they'd get it back some day. Most of them did. Aboard the "SS Noordam" going overseas. February 1943. 532 EBSR personnel participating in King Neptune ceremony upon crossing the equator The scattered transports landed over a period of weeks at various ports in Australia from Sydney in the south to Townsville some twelve hundred miles up the east coast. Accumulating all their gear and moving it over the dinky, vari-guage Aussie railroad to the sites in northern Queensland, where the Amphibs were to establish camp, was a tremendous job in itself. Some were lucky enough to stop in New Zealand for a day or two enroute but, for most of the ships, it was a non-stop trip and no Japs interfered although one or two changed courses upon receiving reports of Jap subs. General Heavey and his aide First Lieutenant (now Captain) Milton 0. Spelts of Lincoln, Nebraska preceded the brigade to Australia by flying from Frisco to Brisbane. Enroute they spent one night at little Canton Island in mid-Pacific. That night the Japs for the first time surfaced a sub a mile offshore and intermittently shelled the island for several hours. They thus became the first members of the brigade to come under enemy fire. Luckily no one on the island was hit. In their grade-school geography the Amphibs had read about the terrain, cities, vegetation, animals and inhabitants of this faraway continent, and now they were anxious to gain additional firsthand information. They noticed that the Aussie vocabulary was full of new phrases and slang words like "Dinky doy," "cobber," and "fair dinkum." Quickly adopting many of these new expressions, they in turn taught the Aussies many Yank idioms - both good and bad. At first the Amphibs experienced difficulty with the Aussie monetary terminology but soon learned the difference between a pound, shilling, form and penny. After a few weeks it did not sound at all strange to hear them saying "Shoot ya two bob" or "Betcha a quid." They caught on. As they became better acquainted with their new surroundings, they noted a few other differences, but on the whole, the cities, farms, girls, beer, dancing and movies of Australia were so much like those in the U. S. that they could not help but feel very much at home with their new friends and allies. The 532d EBSR landed at Townsville and, after a hectic railroad trip through flooded country, they encamped on the coast fifteen miles north of the town of Cairns, Queensland. Here their beaches were bordered by the beautiful but treacherous coral of the Great Barrier Reef. Brigade Headquarters Company and the 562d EBM Company spent their first week in Australia at Camp Cluden, a "delightful" staging area just outside of Townsville. The predominiating feature of this camp was the depth and softness of its mud, and the force of the torrential rains. Never had the Amphibs seen so much mud in such a small area. Their "pleasant" week at Cluden was followed by a few days of enjoyable travel through "sunny" Queensland from Townsville to Rockhampton on one of the narrow-gauge "Aussie rattlers". With the exception of the 532d EBSR, the remainder of the brigade established itself in an area extending from a point twelve miles north of Rockhampton, Queensland, to the coast. In both of these locations it was necessary to carve campsites out of virgin territory. Less than a week after their arrival the news was circulated that someone had heard their new radio "friend", Tokyo Rose, broadcast a welcome to "the three new amphibian regiments and service units in Australia." "We will come over to see you one of these days," she added. They never did. Instead we soon headed to "see" her. Aboard the "SS Noordham" going overseas. February 1943. Favorite indoor sport quickly passes the time (and money) for all concerned. The Amphibs were enthused and anxious to go immediately into combined training with Australian and other American troops, but got a rude awakening when they found no landing craft available. The fine assembly plant at Cairns where hundreds of landing craft were to have been ready just did not exist. The boat assembly unit had arrived early in December only to find the building which was to house their plant not even started and the site still encumbered with an old sawmill whose owners were holding out for a higher settlement. On top of this, the transports bringing the equipment and knockdown landing barges seemed to vie with each other in arriving at separate ports. It was many weeks before the equipment was sorted out and finally delivered over the rushed Australian railways to the plant so production could get started. Rockhampton, Queensland, Australia. April 1943. General MacArthur and Lt. Gen Eichelberger inspect the 542 Regimental Area. Col Fowlkes and Lt Col Simpson escort our distinguished visitors. Until boats could be made available to them, training in the regiments was principally in infantry tactics with particular emphasis on jungle fighting. Equipped with the new jungle uniforms and kits, troops were taken on bivouac into the Australian bush country for periods of a week or more, during which time they carved their way through jungle terrain, executed jungle problems, slept on jungle hammocks, and subsisted on jungle rations. Schools were also conducted for the training of Amphibian Scouts in their job of making a reconnaissance of hostile beaches and of slipping stealthily ashore in advance of an operation to install beach markers and otherwise facilitate the landing of the first boat waves. Classes and practice in anti-aircraft firing, aircraft recognition, signal communication, boat maintenance, water-proofing of land vehicles and in the use and maintenance of the amphibian vehicles formed an important part of the training period for the rest of the brigade. Meanwhile the shore units were given specialized training in such work as laying matting for beach roads leading from the beaches. Experiments were also conducted at this time in the use and effectiveness of the new 4.5-inch secret barrage rocket. While this training was in progress both at Rockhampton and at Cairns, the 562nd EBM Co. and men of the 532nd EBSR pitched in to help the 411th Engineer Base Shop Battalion set up their boat assembly plant at Cairns. They worked twenty-four hours a day, mostly in the heaviest tropical rain and mud. On one fine day early in April, 1943, they had the satisfaction of launching their first LCVP, a landing craft destined to land combat troops on enemy shores. Soon seven completed boats were daily coming off the three mass production assembly lines. The brigade took on new life as the boatmen got back to the throttles and began to learn about this new type of craft, which differed in many respects from those they had operated in the states. Now the brigade had to make another rail shipment of LCVPs, all the way from Cairns to Rockhampton, six hundred miles. With the narrow gauge Australian railways and their small flat cars, this was no easy job. With only inches to spare on horizontal and vertical clearances, the trainload of nineteen LCVPs finally reached Rockhampton. This trip contrasted strangely with the 150 boat movement in October 1942 from Cape Cod to Carrabelle on the American railways. It was at this time that the brigade almost got its first combat mission. Late one night in March, Sixth Army called General Heavey on the Secraphone (this phone cannot be tapped) and was asked how many combat troops he could alert to be moved to the West Coast of Australia. It appeared one of our aviators had observed a Jap invasion convoy heading for Australia. There were very few combat troops in Australia at the time to meet such an attack. Our shore battalions and headquarters units at Rockhampton were quickly outfitted and reorganized as infantry and all plans made to move on short notice. However the Jap convoy evaporated into thin air and a few days later the alert was lifted. Early in April the brigade was honored with a visit by the Theater Commander, General Douglas MacArthur. His interest was centered mainly on the operation and effectiveness of the new types of Amphibian equipment. He climbed aboard a DUKW and, after a short trip in and out of the surf, he appeared favorably impressed with its possibilities in amphibian work. He witnessed a demonstration of boat and shore operations and exhibited a keen interest in the accuracy of the timing. He devoted much attention to the range and effectiveness of the rocket firing. The friendly manner in which the General talked with the officers and enlisted men alike caused many a heart to beat faster that day. Bursting with pride, the fortunate few with whom he had conversed wrote home that they had talked with General MacArthur and then joyfully shook hands with their buddies who sought only to "shake" the hand that shook the hand --- ---- ----." During the next few weeks, preparations were made for a large-scale demonstration of special equipment and tactics employed by the Amphibian Engineers. This demonstration, which was staged late in April on a beautiful beach near Yeppon, Queensland, was attended by a distinguished group of high-ranking U. S. and Australian officers, including Lieutenant General Walter Krueger, Commanding General of the Sixth U. S. Army; Lieutenant General Robert L. Eichelberger, Commanding General of I Corps; Brigadier General (later Major General) H. Casey, Chief of Engineers, GHQ; Major Generals Berryman, Vasey, and Dewing of the Australian Army; and Colonel Wong of the Chinese Army. Emphasis was placed on the work of the Amphibian Scouts and the use of the barrage rocket. They were brought to a point several hundred yards offshore in a small boat (simulating a submarine), and from there, they swam ashore towing a supply of provisions in a floating jungle pouch. Under cover of a smoke screen, LCVPs landed infantry troops on the beach. A simulated air attack was staged and machine gunners on the boats successfully warded off the "raiders." The shore engineers landed on the second wave and set up machine guns, decontaminated gassed areas, exploded land mines, laid road matting and removed obstructions. The DUKWs were used to bring ashore materiel and supplies of all classes, direct to the dumps established back of the beach. The climax of the demonstration was the firing of rockets from a DUKW at a target on Bluff Rock, an island fifteen hundred yards off the beach, under the direction of Major Volgenau. Two ranging rounds were fired and the fire-for-effect salvo landed squarely on the target, demolishing it completely. This was the brigade's first large-scale show in Australia and caused favorable comments about the latent possibilities of such a unit in combat. Rockhampton, Australia, March 1943. Co E, 592 EBSR returns after living one week in the jungle testing special jungle equipment. Early in July, 1943, the brigade began using its present appellation of "2nd Engineer Special Brigade" and the regiments became "Boat and Shore Regiments." The word Amphibian was entirely deleted from the name. There is no explanation of why the word Special was substituted in place of Amphibian, but it is thought that it was done for the sake of secrecy. All brigade units, with the exception of the 542d EBSR, moved to Cairns, Queensland, in June 1943, for better-combined training with the Australians and U. S. Navy. Upon arrival the Brigade Headquarters divided itself into an advanced operational echelon and a rear administrative echelon. The Navy sent an amphibious staff under the command of Rear Admiral Daniel Barbey ("Amphibious Dan") to Cairns, and with them the brigade established a joint headquarters for close cooperation in the combined training off Cairns and in preparation for coming operations in New Guinea. At this time the 562d EBM Company was reorganized and expanded into the 562 EBM Battalion. Realizing that successful operations would be in direct proportion to the efficient maintenance of our landing craft, General Heavey, in his thorough long-range planning, had insisted on this expansion. The new plan allowed a complete Boat Maintenance Company to go with each regiment detached from the brigade for special missions. The process of reorganization and the movement of the additional brigade units from Rockhampton to Cairns did not hamper the training program that was already under way by the 532d EBSR with the Australian troops. The Aussies were anxious to get into the fight against the Japs who were already threatening the northern shores of their homeland. When the Amphibs heard that they were going to work with the famous 9th Australian Division (the "Rats of Tobruk") in impending amphibian operations in New Guinea, they took hold with renewed vigor and determination. These veteran AIF troops who had performed so admirably in the defense of Tobruk against Nazis, Fascisti, and desert sands had won every Amphib's confidence long before actual training began. In the very waters where Zane Grey had deep-sea fished off Cairns they sought to gain the 9th "Divvy's" confidence by demonstrating skill in boat operation by delivering them safely and on time on strange but correct beaches after an all-night trip in darkness and fairly rough seas. It was not long before the Yank and Aussie staffs were talking with the same terms, we Americans becoming familiar with their organization, abbreviations, and tactics, and they with ours. Several officers and men were sent to live and work with the Aussies and they reciprocated by sending men to our units. The men of the 2d Brigade soon learned that "bloody" did not necessarily mean spattered with gore, and the Aussies learned that certain American appellations became terms of endearment - rather than a reflection on one's ancestry - when said with a smile. Their Commanding General, Lieutenant General Sir Leslie Morshead, said, "We must have no secrets from each other". "We must show each other everything we have in our pockets." This is exactly what was done. The 532d EBSR and the 9th Australian Division cooperated in practice maneuvers on Trinity Beach near Cairns daily until the 532d departed later in July for their advanced base at Morobe on the north shore of New Guinea. The 592d EBSR, which had established itself in Cairns by this time, continued to carry on these practice maneuvers with both the 9th and then later the 6th and 7th Australian Divisions, while the 542d EBSR continued such limited boat training as was possible with the boats available in the Rockhampton area. From the early part of May until late September, one brigade unit after the other was on the move from Australia to New Guinea. At first, because of the scant supply of landing craft, just small detachments were formed and sent north to perform specific missions and to "feel out the situation," but as the Cairns assembly plant gradually increased its production to thirty and forty boats a week, these detachments were expanded until they finally embraced full companies and battalions. It is hard to believe that the 2d ESB was less than a year old when it got its first taste of combat, but their first year was replete with thorough and intensive combat preparations. Now the aspiration of every Amphib "to get into this mess and help clean it up" was at hand. Except for a few lucky furloughees who got down to Sydney a year or so later, the happy days spent in Australia were over. The brigade was Guinea bound! The first important step in the road to Tokyo! =================================== Chapter IV Baptism of Fire New Guinea, the land of the Fuzzy Wuzzy, was to most Amphibs little more than a place on the map that they had read about in their eighth grade geography until the Japs started their invasion in 1942. Then it became a focal point of world attention. Divided into two parts, with the Dutch controlling the western half and the Aussies the eastern, New Guinea is the world's second largest island, famed for it's lofty Owen-Stanley mountain range and its vast mineral deposits. It is also famed for some of the worst jungles in the world. Roads are practically non-existent. Malaria, scrub typhus, and "jungle rot" of the skin are much worse enemies than the touted cannibals of the interior ever were. Actually the natives we encountered were, on the whole, friendly and helpful. Its shores offer some long stretches of excellent landing Peaches but at many areas, massive sharp coral reefs make the beaching of landing craft almost an impossibility Viewed from the air these reefs are jewels of beauty with their varicolored shades of green, yellow, purple and violet. To our boatmen seeking a landing beach, they had no beauty. When the Amphibs were first informed that New Guinea was to be their ultimate destination their first request was for coastal charts. They got a rude shock when they were informed that the only charts obtainable were very sketchy and unreliable. The brigade coxswains quickly discovered the truth of that statement, although, throughout the entire New Guinea campaign, the cautious manner in which they maneuvered their craft kept boat damage due to crashing on some uncharted reef at an absolute minimum. It was simply a matter of feeling their way along and then charting the beaches themselves. Another surprising element with which they had to contend was that the tides were unpredictable. Instead of the high and low tides which could easily be determined in the States from prefigured tide tables, here in New Guinea nature was a freak on tides. We were so close to the equator that neither the time nor the amount of the tide could be predicted. Usually there was only one high tide a day instead of two. Such was the terrain of New Guinea, the land of searing sunshine and torrential rains, of malaria and skin rot, where the Amphibs were to make themselves "at home" for the next year and a half. Col John JF Steiner, CE, Commanding 582nd Engr Boat and Shore Regt, 1 October 1942 to 11 February 1944. For the sake of the record and to settle an argument between two Amphibs that was overheard recently, a detachment of the 592d EBSR was the first brigade unit to pitch camp in the New Guinea mud. It's true that several officers and men, including the General, Col. Steiner, and Lt. Col. Brockett, had made prior reconnaissance trips to New Guinea, but they returned to Australia with their reports and cannot be counted as a "permanent unit." In the first week of May, 1943, this small detachment of ten LCMs under 1st Lieutenant (now Captain) E. S. Schenk, 562d EBM Battalion, of Greensboro, North Carolina, moved by Liberty ship with ten used LCMs from Brisbane to Port Moresby. From there they were to run missions to the mouth of the Lakekamu River over one hundred miles westward. Seven of the LCMs were later routed to Milne Bay to perform lighterage duties there. The Aussies, firm in their belief that the Japs had a large concentration of supplies in the vicinity of the Wau gold fields, were constructing a road over the Owen-Stanley Range from the village of Bulldog, thirty miles up the Lakekamu River, to that base. They figured that supplies for the attacking allied troops could easily be taken up the winding Lakekamu River to Bulldog on flat bottom barges. Using Yank engineer equipment they had made fair progress until the New Guinea April showers converted the small creeks and rivulets into raging torrents and their roadway into a flooded area. The project had to be abandoned. The LCMs then had the job of bringing back to Moresby all useful engineering equipment. Their first trip along this strange, uncharted coastline was full of excitement. Two LCMs started out one night from Moresby each with a native guide on its bow to direct the boat's course through the coral-reefed waters. Jap air attacks were frequent enough to make daylight trips in these waters rather dangerous. Although progress was exceedingly slow, the boat crews were amazed at the native's uncanny skill of direction. Captain Schenk admits that at one time when his guide pointed dead ahead and whispered to him "Light"! it was fully half an hour before he could see that light even through his powerful night glasses. When they reached the mouth of the river they encountered other problems. The surf was unusually heavy. There was a three-foot sand bar over which the LCMs could pass only two hours out of the day and, once inside the river, they had to stay until high tide returned. The trip up the river to Bulldog was an experience in itself. The river wound and twisted so much that to cover the thirty miles "as the crow flies", they had to travel over one hundred miles on the river. Logs, rocks, and dense overhanging jungle made their trip even more dangerous. An occasional crocodile glided by. There was also the constant threat of a Jap air attack and several times they were forced to scurry for the shelter of the riverbank. On one occasion a Jap plane swooped down on two of our boats in a strafing attack. The only damage was a couple of bullets in a box of bully beef. The men on the boats said that the bully beef was so tough that even bullets couldn't go through it! Port Moresby had no maintenance facilities for our boats. The detachment from the 562d Boat Maintenance Battalion ingeniously solved some maintenance problems "on the spot." To change props on the boats they constructed log barriers on the beach at low tide and brought the boat over the barrier at high tide. When the tide receded, the boat was left high and dry and the prop could be changed easily. It was a slow process but their job was accomplished. Another of their problems was the procurement of necessary small parts for the boats, but always their Yank ingenuity offered a ready solution. At one time they were in dire need of rubber strut bearings. None were available. To wait for a shipment from Australia was out of the question. The boats must be kept running. The bearings were made of wood, "New Guinea Iron wood", probably one of the first instances of wooden bearings for shafts of landing craft. The Moresby detachment continued to function until late August when all the personnel and craft were sent to Milne Bay to assist in lighterage duties at that base. During the early fall (March is fall south of the equator) General Heavey, in anticipation of coming brigade operations along the New Guinea coast north of Milne Bay, reconnoitered for a base in the vicinity of that bay to be used as a staging area for brigade troops and as a maintenance area for brigade landing craft on their way north from Australia into combat. The Milne Bay region was selected because it was the most advanced point to which the Navy would agree to send large ships capable of carrying landing craft. The island of Samarai was selected as the best site for a base of this sort. Samarai is approximately a mile long and a half-mile wide. As one of the two ports of entry for Australia in New Guinea before the war and the seat of the Papuan Government, Samarai, in spite of its small size, had been a port and town of considerable importance. It was the only approximation to a Hollywood South Sea island we ever encountered and even then the likeness was not startling. The business district had been demolished by the Australian Military Forces at the time of the Japanese invasion of Milne Bay but the majority of the private residences and the hospitals were still intact and available for use by the occupying troops. Rainwater cisterns assured water supply. Mosquitoes were rare on this island. Tropical flowers were in profusion. Approval of the plan and site having been received, Lieutenant Colonel Allen L. Keyes (now Colonel) of West Point, New York, formed a detachment of about three hundred men from the 542d EBSR, embarked at Townsville, and proceeded to Samarai early in June. The landing was effected quickly for natives claimed a Jap submarine had surfaced near the island two days before, apparently to charge its batteries. Their first job after setting up camp was to establish a small boat maintenance shop and to build a dock on the site of the old government wharf that had disappeared during the "earth scorching" by the Aussies. Concealment areas for over three hundred landing craft and camp areas for three boat companies were selected and prepared on the neighboring island of Sanbi. However, military operations advanced too fast for the Samarai base to attain the importance which had been foreseen. The Navy relaxed its previous restrictions after the completion of the successful Nassau Bay landing in which the 532d EBSR played an important part. The landing craft could then be deckloaded all the way from Cairns to Oro Bay eliminating the necessity for any stop at Samarai. Every participant in the Samarai mission remembers well the very cordial relationships that existed between the Amphibs and the Aussies stationed near Samarai. The shop facilities of each unit were extended to the other and on several occasions the Aussies performed machineshop work for the Amphibs that was beyond the scope of the simple equipment the engineers had. To show his appreciation for this cooperation Colonel Keyes invited them to share their Fourth of July dinner and to play softball and cricket with the Amphibs in honor of Independence Day. It would not be truthful to say that we won at cricket, but all enjoyed it. Oro Bay, New Guinea. Sign post on the road to Tokyo. All units of the Brigade staged from Oro Bay for various operations from May 1943 to June 1944. Colonel Keyes tells the story of how his encampment was awakened early one morning by the sound of several shots echoing in the night air. Upon investigation one of the perimeter guards admitted firing the shots and gave the excuse that he had seen a "man on horseback" galloping down the road at breakneck speed and, when he failed to heed the order to halt, he had fired. Unfortunately the guard missed and there was no evidence to support his story. The next evening the performance was repeated by another guard. His story was the same. It seemed strange that no one else ever saw this "man on horseback" who may have been Sleepy Hollow's "Headless Horseman" returning to haunt a new world. The guard was increased and instructed to capture the intruder when he next appeared. He never did. Colonel Keyes said that a few days later he congratulated his guards on their vigilance, but with the next breath he expressed his regret at their poor marksmanship. By the end of July the detachment had received sixty LCVPs from Australia. When orders were received to move to Oro Bay, there were not enough crews to man all the craft, the shipment of boat companies from Australia having been delayed. However, the trip had to be made immediately, so engineers and seamen became coxswains overnight and shore personnel and even medicos were used to fill out the crews. Loading every barge to capacity they started out and soon were past Milne Bay and around the north coast. All went along nicely until nightfall, then the storm came. The inexperienced crews faced a most severe test and over half of them lost their formation and scattered in all directions. At dawn the storm abated and the "lost" boats anchored in the safe harbors of Goodenough Island. One of our boats hit a coral reef and was damaged so that it could not continue the trip. It was stripped of its engine and all salvageable equipment but the hull had to be abandoned. Nature, as much an enemy to us as the Japs, had claimed its first victim from us. Colonel Keyes admits that he spent many anxious moments in rounding up his boats but the job was soon accomplished and the convoy proceeded on its way to Oro Bay. On every convoy since then a fast command boat has gone along to keep the other craft in formation even in the roughest seas. As the memory of the Samarai detachment fades into history, the brigade often looks back on the lessons learned there, the friendly associations with the Aussies and those hot, humid working days. Inexperienced in the rigors of jungle life, the Amphibs soon got used to days of alternating tropical heat and rain and, like engineers who are happiest when constructing something, never displayed fatigue as long as they could "watch things grow." The first brigade unit to become engaged in actual combat with the enemy was a detachment of the 532d EBSR that was sent to Oro Bay in May, 1943, to join forces with the 41st Infantry Division. Their craft were deckloaded as far as Milne Bay, but at that point they were forced to unload and proceed under their own power as the Navy considered waters beyond Milne Bay too dangerous for large ships. Brigade boat crews took over the barges and ran them more than two hundred miles up the coastline to Oro Bay in their first long run through the coral-reefed waters with which they later became so familiar, On this trip they also received their first baptism of fire, although it came from an American not a Jap machine-gun. Most of the Yanks fighting in New Guinea had seen much more enemy activity than allied up to that time. Despite advance notice that American barges would arrive that night at Oro Bay, a gunner with an itchy trigger-finger was sure those strange craft approaching out of the night and blinking recognition signals to the shore were Japs trying to fool him. He was an accurate gunner, too, for his second burst pinged against the boat's armor. Fortunately, however, no one was injured and the boat crews were convinced the armor of their boats would turn small arms fire and American ammunition at that. This knowledge was often very comforting in later operations. The numerous bombed and wrecked ships in Milne Bay and Oro Bay were mute evidence to our boatmen that they were now in combat areas. At night lights were blacked out. Red alerts were frequent. New Guinea, September 1943. "Moby Dick Jr." the 2 ESB's only plane, given up after being cracked up by Air Corps pilot on both of its flights. Shortly after their arrival in Oro Bay the brigade suffered its first personnel casualties due to enemy action. On the night of 18 June 1943, Jap planes dropped five "daisy cutters" in their camp area. When the shock had subsided the first thought of every man was, Was anyone hit? The sudden realization that the greatest misfortune of war had struck in their midst came to them when they moved away the debris and found one of their buddies, Technician Fifth Grade Harold L. Nelson, Co. A, 532d EBSR, of Horrick, Iowa, killed; our first battle casualty. Four other men were wounded. We resolved the Japs would pay for his death; everyone redoubled his efforts. While the Amphibs were assembling and training in Australia from February to May, 1943, elements of the 41st U. S. infantry Division were busy on the upper side of the southeastern tip of New Guinea pushing the Japs back along the shoreline from Buna. The southward surge of the enemy invaders had been definitely halted in the bloody battles of Milne Bay, Buna, and Sanananda. The Yanks and Aussies took up the offensive but their advance was slow and uncertain due to lack of landing craft for coastal supply and for making "End runs" around the Jap's strong defense lines, The Japs and Americans were locked in a struggle for supremacy in the skies over this area. It was definitely not safe to expose a large ship to Jap air attack in the waters around Buna. The same situation applied to Jap ships as the bombed wrecks in these waters clearly showed. The Amphibs were anxious to go to their assistance but were unfortunately not yet equipped with landing craft. If the boat assembly plant in Cairns had been in operation upon the Brigade's arrival overseas, there is no doubt but that the brigade would have been in combat several months sooner. They were urgently needed and anxious to get into combat, but the lack of landing craft stymied them. As rapidly as the boats came off the assembly lines at Cairns in April, 1943, and the boat operators were given an opportunity to refresh in their minds their earlier boat training, special detachments were formed and sent to the combat area. By early June three such detachments were already in operation in New Guinea, Port Moresby, Samarai and Oro Bay. The rest of the brigade continued training at Cairns with the Australians and champed at the bit to get going against the Japs. While these detachments were getting themselves established, plans were being made for the brigade's first combat operation. This was a small-scale job compared to the amphibious strikes destined to come later, but it included practically all the adverse elements that can rise to plague an invasion operation; raging surf with its resultant loss of boats and supplies, unfavorable terrain ashore, heavy enemy opposition, serious resupply difficulties and death. By the end of June the Oro Bay detachment had established a small base for operations at Morobe about midway up the coast from Buna to Salamaua, the latter being operated by the Japs as a principal supply base. Morobe was famous for an unusual tragedy. One day a couple of doughboys were sunning on the beach. Suddenly a streak like a submarine came in from the sea. It was a crocodile. Before the men could get away, the crocodile grabbed one by the leg and dragged him off to sea, never to be seen again. Before our move to New Guinea we had been warned of the ferocious crocodiles and sharks we would encounter. Outside of this one incident we did not actually have any encounters with "crocs" or sharks. The men rarely saw any and found that when they moved in a new area, the animals invariably moved away and left the area to man. The bugs and mosquitoes, on the other hand, multiplied wherever we moved. As dusk fell over the operational staging area above Morobe on the night of 29 June 1943, a task force of infantry from the 41st Division loaded into all the available 532d barges; namely, 29 LCVPs and two captured Tap barges, and set out for a landing behind the Jap lines at Nassau Bay only a few miles below Salamaua. Never before in the southwest Pacific had the allies attempted a landing behind the Jap lines. These men were pioneers in amphibious warfare. A and B Companies, 532 Amphibious Engineers and the 162 Infantry at Nassau Bay. Escorted by only three PT boats, the convoy inched northward a few miles off the enemy-held coast through the inky darkness and into ever increasing rain, wind and heavy seas. Natives who had lived in the vicinity for years said later that the storm on that particular night was the worst within their memory. There were supposed to be allied patrols on two small islands along the course to flash distinguishing lights so that the convoy could frequently check its course, but the storm made the location of these lights impossible. Oro Bay, New Guinea. Feb 1944. Rebuilding a boat motor in the shop of 1570 Heavy Shop Co., 562 Engr Boat Maint Bn. Front left: Tec 5 Neborsie D Perona, Front right: S/Sgt James B Connors, Jr, Mid Left: 2d Lt Joseph A Carreno, Mid Right: T/Sgt John L Cathey, Extreme Rear: Tec 5 William T Chaplin. The PT boats were too fast even at their lowest speed for the convoy and could not effectively guide it. Their craft cruised at twenty-five knots, ours at eight. One wave of boats got off the course entirely and went beyond the objective beach. Realizing they had lost the convoy they returned to Mageri Point, This proved most fortunate, for the boats of this wave were the only ones available for several days to run resupply missions to Nassau Bay. The main group of boats finally located the landing beach. An Aussie patrol from the mountains had infiltrated through the Jap lines to the objective beach and flashed recognition signals to the convoy. They were barely visible in the murky, rainy darkness. The Japs had noticed the flashing signal lights and to create confusion also began to flash meaningless signals with the hope that the boats would land directly in front of their gun positions. But the Amphibs were not to be fooled for they directed their boats straight toward the lights of the Aussie patrol and pulled their throttles wide open. It was obvious to the experienced boatmen that the barges could not be beached successfully in the churning surf. which was now running twelve feet high, but orders were to land that night. So land they did, an hour after midnight, even though the boats were tossed about like matchsticks as they approached the shore. Much equipment, weapons and ammunition were lost in the landing but every soldier was put safely ashore. Most of the boats were unable to retract and twenty-one of them were left swamped on the beach, twisted in every direction while the surf pounded them into distorted shapes within a few minutes. The boatmen salvaged what they could from the wreckage, including some machine guns taken from the boat mounts. They then reported to the infantry commander and were assigned a place in the perimeter for defense of the beachhead against the Jap attack they knew would come. The enemy was known to have considerable strength in the area but it was not until the next evening that the Japs struck. The delay was explained later when a captured Jap captain said the roar of the boat motors, as they sought to get off the beach, sounded to the Japs like tanks were being landed. They refrained from counter-attacking until they found out that the American forces were small and had no tanks. As darkness fell over the creepy jungle on their second night ashore, the Amphibs were well dug in along the beachhead's southern perimeter. It was their job to defeat any Jap counterattack on that flank This task was a far cry from the operation of landing craft but one look at the broken LCVP hulls scattered along the beach behind them and their knowledge that about seven hundred Japs were two hundred yards in front of them decided what they had to do. Their situation was desperate for only part of the force landed and much of their ammunition and some of their weapons were lost in the raging surf. There was little hope for prompt reinforcements for all knew of the shortage of landing craft. With no previous experience in the wily Jap infantry tactics the Amphibs did not know what to expect, but they had heard stories of the tricks the Japs had tried to pull on the Yanks, and so they alerted themselves for some sort of ambush. They had not long to wait, for on the first exchange of rifle fire, two figures loomed out of the jungle darkness ahead of them. The first figure was definitely that of a Jap with both hands stretched over his head, one of them still clutched his "Tommy gun." It appeared that he was being marched along at the point of a rifle by a fellow American trooper; however, when both were in the midst of the Amphibs, the "captor" also proved to be a Jap and they began to blaze away incessantly at their surprised victims. Luckily, they were poor shots even at such close range and their plan was quickly thwarted. An M-1 bullet in the head dropped the first Jap and the sharp thrust of a hunting knife in the throat of the other quickly accounted for him. Toward morning the enemy, some of whom spoke a few words of perfect English, attempted to seduce the Amphibs from their hiding places and foxholes by slithering through the brush close to them and calling out: "All you engineers fall in, Hey, Joe, Come on out, you Yanks, your boats are coming in, and Come on out, we're surrounded." The Amphibs were wise and kept silent. Another of their treacherous tricks was to spray the immediate area with a submachine gun and then call out, "Is anybody hurt in there ?" If an answer were received, a second burst would be directed at once to the spot from which the voice seemed to come. Before dawn a group of Japs suddenly made a Banzai charge. Although many were killed by our men, some managed to reach our foxholes. Hand to hand fighting ensued. Here our training at Ord on knives and judo paid dividends. At least a dozen Japs were disemboweled in these scraps and others failed to attack after hearing the screams of those gutted by American knives. It is no wonder that the Amphibs breathed a huge sigh of relief as the first streak of dawn broke over the eastern horizon. It was a costly night for the Japs, for their corpses were strewn in large numbers over the terrain, but the engineers did not escape unscathed. 2d Lieutenant Arthur C. Ely, Co A, 532d ESBR, of Scarsdale, New York, had led his men courageously during the first part of the fighting, but a chance sniper's bullet killed him instantly while he was crawling to the aid of one of his wounded men. Throughout the remainder of the night six other men were killed and eight wounded. Caring for the dead and wounded the next morning was a grim aftermath to a fight for which every Amphibian can be proud. The brigade's baptism of battle was over and victory had been achieved against overwhelming odds. The infantry commander later congratulated them on their splendid performance and disclosed to them that all would have been lost had not the boatmen made such a courageous stand and successfully held the south flank. He stated that all his reserves had been committed to repel a Jap attack from the north and not a man was available to help the hard-pressed engineers on the southern flank. Radio messages came back to the rear echelon at Morobe that there was urgent need on the new beachhead for medical supplies and ammunition, particularly hand grenades due to the fact that so much of these essentials had been lost in the swamped boats. On the second morning after the assault on Nassau Bay, 2d Lieutenant Charles C. Keele, Co A, 532d EBSR, of Dearborn, Michigan, set out from Morobe in a lone LCVP with a four-man boat crew to deliver a barge load of urgently needed supplies to the troops on the beleaguered beachhead. As they moved up the coast a Jap plane sighted their barge and swooped down in a terrific strafing attack. Lieutenant Keele was seriously wounded and the boat badly damaged, but kept going. The crew begged him for authority to return so that they could get him to a hospital but he refused even to consider turning back. He knew how desperately the men at Nassau Bay needed his cargo. Disregarding his own weakened physical condition he directed emergency repairs to the damaged craft and ordered them to "get those supplies in if it is the last thing you do." The men obeyed his command and the supplies were delivered to the waiting infantrymen. Shortly after Lieutenant Keele was brought back to the hospital, his life slowly ebbed away. For his courage and intense devotion to duty he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross posthumously. Later in Detroit his photo was displayed as a hero on a huge War Bond billboard. The arrival of more troops on the beachhead during the next few days eased the situation and the Japs not already killed pulled back into the mountains or toward Salamaua. The Americans then started the drive on Salamaua. This consisted of step by step landings along the line as the steep mountains, wide streams, and thick jungle made movement through the interior almost impossible. Additional barges, manned by Amphibs, continued to bring in more troops, both American and Australian, artillery, tractors, jeeps, ammunition, rations, and many other essentials of an invading force. The weather having abated, the boats ran day and night with clock-like precision keeping the troops supplied from the sea as they moved on toward Salamaua. Returning boats evacuated wounded and carried mail, prisoners, and official dispatches back from the fighting front. They often landed reconnaissance patrols at night, silencing their motors and beaching almost under the very nose of Jap gun positions. At other times they would reconnoiter along the coast in broad daylight to draw enemy fire so the Allied artillery could locate and blast out the enemy emplacements. In addition to these jobs, special rescue missions were performed by the Amphibs. Several aviators who had had to bail out and parachute into the sea were rescued. The boats were proving themselves indispensable. A few days after the landing on Nassau Bay two LCMs went to the rescue of the crew of a downed B-25 a short distance offshore, On the way they were strafed by four Jap Zeros that drilled nearly a hundred holes in the craft. Maintaining their determination never to turn back on a mission once begun, the crews, of the two boats continued on their course and rescued the crew of the rapidly sinking plane. The spirit of perseverance that the Amphibs displayed on this particular occasion is exemplary of their work throughout the entire Nassau Bay-Salamaua campaign and was to be repeated time and time again. Officially the Nassau Bay operation was over. Off to a good start and with confidence in their ability to outwit the Japs, the Amphibs followed up this success by pushing on Salamaua and by launching two more rapid and decisive operations that were to give the allied forces possession of the vital supply bases at Lae and at Finschhafen. =================================== Chapter V Salamaua, Lae, and Finschhafen Early in August a combat team composed of Companies C and D, E542d EBSR, under the command of Major (now Lt. Col.) Philip W. Long of Richmond, Virginia, relieved the Nassau Bay detachment of the 532d,EBSR. By then the 41st Infantry Division had advanced along the coast as far as Tambu Bay, four miles below Salamaua, and it was the 542d's job to keep them supplied and assist them in every way possible in their final dash on Salamaua. This promised to be no easy job, for the Japs had received reinforcements from the north and were prepared to put up a strong resistance to any attack on their positions. The combat team ran its first missions from Morobe to Nassau and from Nassau to the various beaches in the Tambu area. On the very night that they relieved the 532d EBSR detachment at Tambu they were subjected to continuous counter-fire of Japanese machine gun, mortar and artillery as the Yank infantry advanced to seize Roosevelt Ridge directly behind the bay. However, the unloading was not interrupted for the attitude of the shore party was that if the boat crews had guts enough to stick around and be unloaded under fire, they would unload them; while the boat crews announced that if the shore party had the stuff to unload them, they would put the boats on the beach. Fortunately, there were no casualties and by morning the new team had shown its mettle to the infantry who were convinced that here was another amphibian combination equal to any task placed before it. The following week was one of greatly increased boat activity. Almost every night the boats ran two missions apiece carrying over 150 tons of equipment and personnel to the seven beaches north of Nassau Bay. During the day the same boats performed a variety of missions. The crew of the "Hector," a 542d navigation boat, under the command of Captain Wallace M. Mulliken of Champaign, Illinois, was often called upon to make a quick trip to the scene of a downed A-20 or B-25 to rescue the crew, or else to cruise slowly up and down in front of enemy positions to draw fire. Fortunately, Jap artillery was poor and the "Hector" never received a direct hit, but the boatmen were always glad when a trip of that sort was over and Yank artillery opened up on the disclosed Jap positions. With the exception of a single night in the next two months, the Tambu Bay detachment received nightly fire from Japanese mortar and artillery. One night a dud fell six feet from their radio station. Whenever the shelling started, the boats waiting in the bay dispersed over a wide area, but those already on the beach being unloaded had to remain there. The spirit the men had displayed on their first night at Tambu never, slackened and work continued "as usual" during every enemy barrage. Another night, the latter part of August, the Amphibs were not so fortunate. As ODO of the LCVs was being unloaded on Lovell Beach near Tambu during a heavy barrage it received a direct hit by a Jap mortar shell. A three-foot hole opened in the port bow near the water line and the ramp cable was severed. Private First Class Pete Zubieta, Jr. of Elko, Nevada, seaman of the barge, was killed instantly along with several Australians in the unloading crew, The 542d coxswain, Technician Fourth Grade Leo Kordick of Bridgewater, Iowa, was wounded by shell fragments in the left hand, leg, and foot. Many others were injured along the beach or nearly buried under the shower of flying debris. Although the barge was apparently hopelessly crippled, Technical Sergeant (now 2d Lt.) Eric Hell Helleskov of San Francisco, California, and Technician Fifth Grade Joe Angerer of Grand Mound, Iowa, stuffed life preservers into the gaping hole and, after managing to raise the ramp despite the severed cable, retracted the boat and ran it twelve miles back to the base at Nassau Bay. This trip was fraught with tension and anxiety lest a wave should come crashing over the gunwales or push in their temporary life-preserver plug and sink the boat. They inched cautiously along until they finally reached home where the boat was repaired and soon placed back in service. For their gallant and courageous action both men were awarded the Silver Star. Landing craft were so scarce at that time that their, saving of this boat was especially valuable. The nearest replacement was a thousand miles away as Cairns. After a few weeks American air power became superior enough to permit daylight runs, Running in the daylight hours resulted in easier boat control and quicker unloading by the shore parties. Over two hours were cut in the running of a mission from Nassau to Tambu and return. The boatmen also preferred the risk of Jap air attack because at nighttime any shell passing overhead sounds close but during the daytime the boat and shore personnel could observe shell patterns on the ground and water and proceed uninterrupted with their duties while areas 400 to 800 yards away were being shelled. Of course, the boat movements could be observed by the enemy and they were often harassed by shelling and air attacks, but they were willing to take that chance to get the job done. The detachment lost its first LCV one night toward the end of August. It was loaded with three tons of pierced planking which takes a long time to unload as it is so heavy and bulky. The surf was high that night and, while the boat was being unloaded, it shipped a large amount of water. When the coxswain retracted from the beach the motor drowned out and the surf caused the boat to broach, smashing her port stern against the starboard stern corner of an unloading LCM. The boat sank within five minutes. It was, as someone later remarked, "just one of those things." Early in the morning of 11 September a special reconnaissance mission was run with the object of discovering the extent of Japanese withdrawals and to spot the enemy's gun positions around Salamaua, The boats were run at 500 RPMs with their underwater exhausts which enabled them to go under cover of darkness to within 100 yards of enemy lines. When dawn broke, the observers in enemy gun emplacements in Salamaua took the bait that was dangled before them and opened fire. Fire was returned by the little 30-caliber machine guns on the LCVs to keep the enemy distracted while yank artillery spotted their targets, aimed and fired. Because of this mission the infantry was able to move forward rapidly and by nightfall Salamaua was occupied by American and Australian troops. The fall of Salamaua came 74 days after the assault on Nassau Bay. During this. period additional boats were brought up from Australia and put into operation by the Amphibs until they were running more than 100 barges. Their craft had made more than 300 tactical landings, transported nearly 10,000 troops, and carried over 15,000 tons of cargo. The effectiveness of amphibian warfare against the Japs had been proven. Meanwhile, the 532d detachment that had been relieved at Nassau Bay moved to Milne Bay to participate in some final maneuvers with the 9th Australian Division in preparation for the assault on Lae. Since early spring General Heavey had been planning the part the 2d ESB would play in this operation. It was decided that since the 532d EBSR had trained with the 9th Australian Division in amphibious tactics while at Cairns, they should also put these troops ashore at Lae. The first step was to consolidate the already far-flung 532d regiment at their advanced base at Morobe. Authority was obtained to send the regiment from Cairns to that base where it would be joined by their several small detachments already located near there. Early in August they loaded on transports at Cairns.. Then the inevitable happened, new orders were received! A final dress rehearsal for the Lae assault would be held two weeks hence on Normanby Island in the Milne Bay area to iron out any difficulties that might possibly arise during the invasion. This particular site for the maneuver was selected because the Navy and Australian troops were stationed in that vicinity. But what a situation for the 532d! Most of the regiment were already loaded aboard transports and enroute to Morobe and the remainder were scattered in small detachments along the New Guinea coast from Oro Bay to Tambu Bay. To further complicate the matter, D-Day for the Lae operation had been tentatively set for September fourth which meant that the troops would have to be taken off the transports at Milne Bay while the men in the separate detachments were being relieved by another Amphib unit and were moving down to their base, then they would have to set up camp, participate in the rehearsal, embark again for Morobe, and complete their final preparations for the operation in less than thirty days! However, the Amphibs met this schedule in characteristic fashion. The rehearsal went off as planned and was generally considered to be very satisfactory. The principal point demonstrated by the rehearsal was that the Aussies were taking far too many vehicles in the initial landing. Loading plans were promptly corrected. Immediately following the rehearsal the 532d was transported to Morobe in naval craft and upon arrival began rushing their final preparation. Final orders were received. The operation was to be a three-pronged offensive with a waterborne force landing east of Lae, a paratroop force landing northwest of that base, and an infantry force pushing up from the south. All three forces were to converge on the objective and annihilate any opposition. A large task force was assembled for the amphibious phase of this operation since the Japs were reported to have concentrated as many as 20,000 of their best troops at Lae, In addition to the LCVs and LCMs of the 532d, which were over 65 in number and carried personnel, tractors, beach matting to keep heavy equipment from bogging down in the sand during the unloading, conveyors for unloading heavy cases, vehicles, signal equipment, guns and ammunition, rations and various other essential supplies, the Navy was to furnish a number of their large landing craft and tank lighters. Major (now Lt. Col.) Charles B. Claypool, Hq. 532d, of Grand Rapids, Iowa, remained at Milne Bay to work out final details with the 9th Australian "Divvy" and the Navy. The Navy requested that the 2d ESB provide Amphibian scouts to go in on the first wave to establish markers on both Red and Yellow beaches and to make a beach reconnaissance. Major Howard Lea, the Brigade Operations Officer, arranged the scout detail which he ultimately led in the attack. Capt. (now Lt. Col.) Edward T. Rigney, Brigade Signal Officer, of Holliston, Massachusetts, prepared details of the final signal plan. Colonel J. J. F. Steiner, 532d Regimental Commander, of Birmingham, Alabama, was responsible for the regimental preparations and the execution of their part in the assault, although his Executive Officer, Lt. Col. Edwin D. Brockett of Fort Worth, Texas, would land with the regiment and direct their movements on the far shore. Lae, New Guinea. 16 Sep 1943. View of Red Beach on D-Day as 532 EBSR lands 9th Australian Division. Shore Party unloading LCTs. Plans for their part in the assault worked out to the last detail, Colonel Steiner saw to it that every last man in his regiment who would participate in the operation was well informed of the plan of action, what to expect, and exactly what he was to do. Sand table models of the beachhead were constructed and the operations were explained fully. Each man was made to feel that he would perform an integral part in what was to take place. They rested one day. Colonel Steiner felt that the preparation and training of his troops had reached a peak and that, like a highly trained football team, they should relax the day before the game. It was good strategy. On that same day an incident occurred at Morobe that gave rise to some consternation and fear in the minds of many individuals about the probable outcome of all their detailed planning. General Heavey and several of his staff officers had arrived at Morobe to join Colonel Steiner and members of the 9th Divvy's staff for a last-minute conference after which they would all depart in the convoy to the far shore. While they were at their noonday lunch, a red alert was sounded but the all-clear signal was given within ten minutes and the alert was forgotten. Soon the sound of planes was heard overhead but, as no alert was sounded again, they proceeded with-lunch thinking the planes were friendly. Suddenly the harbor was filled with the sound of exploding bombs and it was realized belatedly that the planes were Japanese. There was no damage and no casualties, but the question in everybody's mind was, "What do the Japs know?" Certainly they couldn't have missed seeing the LSTS, LCTs and other landing craft that were in the harbor. Regardless of what the Japs knew or expected the die had been cast and early that evening General Heavey and the other officers boarded one of the small naval APCs and within an hour the convoy got underway. As the convoy cleared the harbor at Morobe at dusk, a flight of P-47s were seen circling overhead and everyone agreed that it was a very comforting sight. Two hours after dark the 532d landing craft, proceeding under their own power over the 75-mile course across the Huon Gulf, joined the convoy off Kakari Point. So far everything was running precisely on schedule. The assault on Lae was at hand. The landing at daylight the next morning, 4 September 1943, went off with the precision of a well-oiled machine. As the first faint streak of dawn crept over the eastern sky, the barge and small ships of the invasion force began moving toward the beach behind which could be seen a range of mountains towering 10,000 feet into the clouds. Inshore a long line of warships moved from the east into a position on each side of the beach chosen for the landing. As they did so, the Jap shore batteries opened surprise fire. Their punishment came like a stroke of greased lightning. All the warships opened on them and their feeble protests at this unbelievable assault ended almost before it started. Spouts of white and yellow water spurted upward as the ships shelled the beach with increasing fury. The mist was split with flashes as tracer shells arching from gun to shore made orange-colored streaks against the dark background. For half an hour the bombardment thudded and clouds of smoke reeling upward announced that direct hits on enemy installations had been scored. Then it stopped as suddenly as it had started. Through the dull, grey smoke and churning surf especially trained Amphibian scouts of the 2d ESB, dressed in Aussie uniforms, were first ashore to make a quick reconnaissance of the beach, ascertain enemy positions, .and guide in the landing craft. They signaled back that enemy opposition was negligible, and that most of the Japs had either been killed in the bombardment or had fled to the safety of the hills behind the beach. By that time the Australian infantry were already clambering aboard the landing craft that waited patiently alongside the transport. Each man clutching his rifle in hands cold with sweat and uttering under his breath something that sounded like "Here goes nothing" or "This it it," cramped himself amid other green clad, tense, and eager infantrymen in the barge. Filled to capacity the barge quickly moved away from the ship to let another one in and headed toward the line of departure. As wave after wave of landing craft was formed, they shot forward on signal from their wave leader. Soon they were only fifty yards offshore, then forty, thirty, twenty, ten. Coxswains yelled, "Hold on! Prepare to land!" With a thud the boats struck sand, and ramps dropped and forty men from each barge jumped across the surf and were into the jungle in less than a minute. Aussies unloading at Scarlet Beach from our LCVPs. The shore engineers quickly organized the job of unloading supplies and getting them distributed over hastily constructed roadways to their proper dumpsites. Beach defenses were set up. The first barges unloaded tractors and big road graders and heaps of wire mesh that would be used to make passable roads over the sand and swamps. Working with power driven saws, the engineers felled thick palm trees, which the tractors dragged to creeks or swampy spots. Bridges grew in minutes and, almost before the last log was in place, a "cat" crawled over and pressed farther with their road building. Within twenty minutes three roads had been gouged through the swamps to dispersal areas. The men worked like mad and unfolding the 10-foot wide metal strips and laying them over the beach sand. And still the barges kept coming! As soon as a ramp dropped on the beach a steady stream of soldiers seemed to materialize out of nowhere and, entering the barge on the port bow, they emerged on the starboard side a second later bearing crates and boxes, dragging guns and pushing heavier equipment. Sweating and swearing profusely, the Aussies and Yanks worked side by side in orderly confusion moving the cargo. As the Aussies later put it, everyone worked "flat out." Most of the barges, relieved of their cargo, immediately retracted from the beach and headed back to their base at Morobe for additional supplies. About twenty, however, remained on the beach for use in emergencies and for "end runs" up and down the beach. The careful training and detailed preparations paid off well. The initial assault through unfamiliar waters, studded with coral reefs and "niggerheads," had been made in enemy territory successful and without loss or disablement of a single craft. As a climax to this demonstration of American genius for rapid work with heavy engines, came the landing of the large LSTS. As these ponderous hulks drove to the beach even the longshoremen working frantically in their unloading of the smaller craft stopped to view these monsters as they magically opened their bows and dropped immense ramps slowly to the edge of the surf. It is impossible to enumerate the contents of one of these ships. Ton after ton of equipment was unloaded and, interspersed with the vehicles and material, companies of infantry filed out while artillerymen rode guns drawn by tractors. Here was the power with which the invaders could drive deeper and deeper into the enemy's defenses. Shortly after seven o'clock, before the LSTs reached the beach, all bell broke loose. ,Jap bombers and Zeroes coming in just ;above the tree tops attacked in strength, the first of numerous raids of such proportion to come. Two of the large Navy infantry landing craft still on the beach were hit and disabled. The Amphibs, under prior instructions issued by General Heavey, had dispersed their small barges well offshore where they presented small targets for air attacks. It was the beach installations, including more than a thousand shore engineers of the 2d ESB, which bore the brunt of the enemy bombing and strafing. In this and subsequent Jap raids, which continued at intervals day and night during the twelve-day battle for Lae, supply, fuel, and ammunition dumps were lost, the Amphib's regimental command post was nearly blown off the map when bracketed by four 500-pound bombs and direct hits struck the medical detachment area where wounded were being attended. But the Navy continued to bring in supply ships and the shore engineers somehow managed to get them unloaded even though heavy rains had added to the difficulties ashore by turning the low terrain along the beach into a sea of mud and the dump areas into quagmires. Life on Red Beach during this period was most unpleasant. Death was frequent. Meanwhile, the Aussie infantry was pushing southwestward toward Lae. Shore roads were impassible and the Amphibs kept their advance supplied by boat transporting troops, guns, ammunition, supplies and equipment down the coast from Red Beach to wherever they were needed. To meet the increased demand for boats it was necessary to increase the number of LCMs to 21 and to bring to as many as 60 LCVPs from Morobe. Every night the convoys of landing craft would feel their way through the uncharted coral to find a small strange beach on which to deliver their cargo. These boatmen were often under artillery and mortar fire as the Japs attempted to prevent this gradual encroachment of their coast. Strafed at Lae. T/5 Richard Kump, Company B, 532nd, killed by the Zero's 20 mm after he had hit and set afire the Jap with his .30. The Zero crashed. Drawing by Sgt L N Homar. One night six of the anchored LCMs dragged anchors in a sudden heavy storm and, despite efforts to get engines started and take to sea, they were washed high up on the coral beach. The salvage detail was quickly called and through their earnest and strenuous efforts, every boat was soon refloated and put back into operation. Too little praise has been given the salvage crews for their quick thinking and quick action in emergencies similar to this one. This same storm caught the Aussies attempting to cross the flooded Busu River. One battalion, by a combination of swimming and rubber boats, had managed to cross most of its personnel and get a foothold on the other side. During the crossing many of the men had lost their rifles and not one machine gun had been transported over the river. Here was a critical situation. The Japs held the coast just west of the river mouth and probably realized that only a small and poorly armed force had succeeded in crossing the river, which was still rising. Would the Japs attack? 1st Lt. (now Capt.) Henderson E. McPherson, 532d, of Sharon, Pennsylvania, and his boat crew volunteered to attempt ferrying the remaining troops around the river mouth. The infantry commander, considering the losses his force had already suffered due to enemy fire and drownings, was reluctant to risk more casualties in the hazardous crossing until the Jap defenses could be softened up, but, nevertheless, he agreed. For forty-eight hours the 36-foot LCV shuttled fresh troops to the beleaguered beach and brought back the wounded under a continuous barrage from Jap machine gun, mortar and artillery fire. When the rudder was shot away, they improvised another and Lt. McPherson sat in the stern fully exposed to enemy fire and steered the craft. This two-day nightmare ended only after all the twelve hundred troops and a great quantity of supplies had been successfully landed on the west bank of the Busu. They had made a total of forty trips. For his outstanding heroism beyond the call of duty, Lt. McPherson was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross and his four crew members, Sgt. Albert Holtslaw of Sandoval, Illinois, Sgt. Ernest R. Hammond of Maguan, Illinois, Cpl. Paul F. Radeski of Waldo, Wisconsin, and Private First Class George W. Winger of Soldier's Grove, Wisconsin, each received the Silver Star. Amphibian engineer machine gunners both on the boats and ashore were often able to bring down Jap planes with their 30 and 50-caliber fire. Usually there are so many guns pouring lead at the attacking planes that it is almost impossible to tell who scored the hits but during the Lae operation the 532d EBSR shore engineers were credited with definitely shooting down two Jap planes. The boat engineers, not to be outdone shot down another two planes from their boats. The Japs pilots must have figured that these small craft were defenseless and an easy target for a strafing attack, for it was under just such circumstances that Private Richard Kump, Co B 532d, of Brooklyn, New York, died a hero but not until he had gotten his Zero. Private Kump was manning a machine gun on a landing barge ferrying troops to a forward beach when a Jap plane appeared overhead. One Zero singled out the small craft for attack and zoomed down, his guns spitting death, But Private Kump stuck to his gun and sent the Jap blazing into the sea. At almost the same instant he was struck by a 20 mm shell from the Zero. Due to his heroic action the boat and its other occupants reached their destination safety, and, for the gallantry that he had displayed in the face of intense enemy fire, Private Kump was awarded the Silver Star posthumously. Brigade boats continued to work with the Aussies plying up and down the coast until Lae finally fell on 16 September. During the twelve-day campaign and the subsequent assembly of troops in and near Lae, lasting until 30 September, the relatively small force of boats had transported over 10,000 tons of cargo and 12,000 troops. But this was not done without its expense in men and equipment. The 532d reported nine men killed in action, five officers and sixty-one men wounded in action, and five landing craft damaged beyond repair. Major General Wooten, the Australian Commander, stated: "Not for one hour has my advance on Lac been held up by failure of the 2d Engineer Special Brigade to deliver troops, supplies or ammunitions at the time and place needed." From a military standpoint the operation was a complete success. The loss in lives and equipment was kept at a minimum and was only a fraction of the losses sustained by the enemy. This is in itself unique for usually in amphibious warfare the troops on the offensive figure on suffering much heavier initial losses than the defenders. With the fall of Lae another great step had been taken, to drive the Jap from their bases on New Guinea. Then came the assault on Finschhafen which was pretty much the story of Lae all over again. General MacArthur, figuring that a quick amphibian strike at Finschhafen would catch the enemy off balance, ordered such an attack for 22 September 1943. With only four days preparation the landing was made on schedule; the Aussie 9th "Divvy," the 532d Amphibs, and the Navy working together again as they did at Lae. A short naval bombardment preceded the dawn assault made on Scarlet Beach, a few miles north of Finschhafen village on the tip of the Huon Peninsula. While this was in progress our Amphibian scouts were already on their way toward shore and, as soon as the barrage lifted, they hit the beach. The going was not easy for the Japs had lined the beach, with strong and well-camouflaged pillboxes, some of which had escaped destruction in the shelling. The scouts had to fight their way up the beach inch by inch. Their officer, Lt. Edward K. Hammer, 592d EBSR, of Franklin, Michigan, and Lt. Herman A. Koeln, 592d EBSR, of Brooklyn, New York, each killed Japs with their tommyguns. Despite this heavy opposition the scouts managed to set up range lights, flank markers, make a rapid survey of the beach and radio the result of their reconnaissance to the ships waiting offshore. The remaining waves came in according to schedule through a hail of enemy fire from the pillboxes. Some casualties were suffered but the boats were undamaged. Australian infantry swarmed up the beach from the barges and plunged inland to silence the Jap batteries and snipers. The shore engineers immediately set up their beach defenses and assisted by Australian labor crews, pitched in to unload the naval craft. Everything on the beach ran smoothly. The road building progressed so rapidly that part of the time the engineers were working right in the midst of the front line infantry. The day after the assault on Finschhafen, General Heavey received the following message from General MacArthur: "Mv heartiest commendation to you, your officers, and your men for their splendid performance in the Salamaua-Lae-Finschhafen operation. They showed skill, courage and determination." One of the hardest worked and hardest hit units on the beachhead was the Amphib's Medical Detachment. Because of the heavy opposition encountered on the landing, their work began the moment they hit the beach. Due to constant ground action and frequent air attacks, it never ceased. The medical unit administered first aid, performed emergency operations, removed shell fragments, and dressed wounds. They worked tirelessly. In the midst of their heroic action on the second day after the landing a formation of twenty-seven Jap bombers appeared overhead and, although the ack-ack gunners kept them at a high altitude, they succeeded in dropping their bombs on. the beach area before hastening away and before American fighters could catch them. Fortunately, the 532d had moved from its former area. It was turned into a shambles by the bombs. As it was, four daisy-cutters landed in their new camp area. One hit in the trees over the medics and fragments fell into the nearby foxholes. Capt. Charles F. Pecoraro of Stamford, Connecticut, and Capt. Frank J. DeCesare of Methuen, Connecticut, had both rushed for the same foxhole and Capt. Pecoraro, who was the last to arrive, was killed instantly. Capt. DeCesare received severe wounds on his left shoulder. One enlisted man, Tec. 5 Joseph H. Estes of Washington, D. C., was killed and three others were wounded. Several shore engineers rushed to lend their assistance to the badly hit medics and it wasn't long before the detachment was reorganized and the job of treating other casualties went on. Bombings continued every day for the next two weeks. Some raids were heavier than others but the men only dug their foxholes deeper and covered them with sandbag rooftops. They soon noticed that most of their raids came around meal time when they were lined up for chow, so a system of staggering the messline was worked out so that when a man got his food he would take it to a nearby foxhole to eat it. Some of the men were shaken up severely during these incessant raids and had to be evacuated but the majority remained calm and "took it as it came." Incessant and heavy raids and the monotony of "C" rations added to the difficulties. In those days there were not even the "10 in 1" rations to vary the food. Meanwhile, the Aussies pushed south toward Finschhafen, encountering ever-increasing Jap resistance. The Amphibs ashore had to assume most of the responsibility for the defense of Scarlet Beach, not only from the sea approach, but the beachhead perimeter as well. The boats continued to shuttle up and down the coast between Scarlet Beach and Lae, a distance of about seventy-five miles, to bring up supplies and evacuate wounded. The infantry was resupplied in their march on Finschhafen at the only intermediate point between Scarlet Beach and Finschhafen where boats could land - Launch Jetty. The rest of the shoreline was a mass of unbroken coral rocks and cliffs. This particular spot was not too good since it was too small to accommodate many boats but it was the only one available. It is interesting to note that a few months later Brigade Headquarters was established on a small point directly opposite this jetty. Early in the evening of 2 October news was received in the 532d camp that the Aussies had entered Finschhafen. Their objective had been achieved but the operation was far from over for the Japs were still putting up stiff resistance in the mountains, especially, at Satelberg. Twelve miles off Finschhafen lay the Tami Islands, suspected of being occupied by the Japs. Their location was suitable for radar and antiaircraft installations for the protection of the harbors in and near Finschhafen. Just before dawn on 3 October a force of 14 LCVPs and 2 LCMs carried a company of Aussie infantry through the encircling coral reef around the islands. Instead of the hot fire from Jap shore batteries that they had expected, natives in outrigger canoes joyfully greeted the white men. They explained in their pidgin English that the Japs had occupied their island "for many moons" and had left "only half a moon ago." The well-constructed pillboxes covering the only landing beach clearly indicated that an earlier landing would have met terrific resistance. Back on Scarlet Beach heroism was the rule rather than the exception. The going there was tough, but the American soldiers - most of whom had been so recently mild-mannered civilians - were tougher. The exploit of Junior N. Van Noy, an Amphib from Preston, Idaho, was such that a grateful nation awarded him-posthumously-the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was the first engineer soldier in World War II and the first member of the Army Service Forces to win this highest possible award. This tow-headed, red-cheeked kid was only 19 years old when he joined Co E 532d EBSR, back in Cairns, Australia. The fellows in the outfit didn't pay much attention to him. He was so mild mannered that his buddies considered him something of a mama's boy. Known as "Junior" or "Whitey", there wasn't a more unobtrusive individual in the company. But Van Noy soon showed them that no matter what they thought of him, he was a good soldier. He was assigned to the crew of a 50-caliber machine gun, and, proud of his job, worked hard to become a good gunner. During his first action on Red Beach, near Lae, he shot down a low-level Jap bomber trying to strafe the beach and the barges. On D-Day at Scarlet Beach he wasn't so lucky for he received five shrapnel wounds in his wrist, side and back. The medics wanted to evacuate him but he steadfastly refused. They had another chance when he came to them a few days later with a severe case of ear ulcers, but again he refused. His company needed machine gunners and he meant to stay. Maybe it's of just such stuff that heroes are made. It seems so. Van Noy and Poppa of 532 fight the Japs at Scarlet Beach. Courtesy Look Magazine. An hour before dawn on the stormy morning of 17 October 1943 Van Noy and the rest of his gun crew were trying to get a few winks of sleep in their hammocks strung between palm trees near their beach gun while Sgt. John Fuina of Brooklyn, New York, in charge of the beach detachment, remained on the alert to rouse the others if anything happened. Another member of the crew, Tec 5 Raymond J. Koch of Wabasha, Minnesota, was restless, and, unable to sleep, got up to take a stretch and smoke a cigarette. Gazing out into the sea the two men noticed four smudges on the skyline. Holding their breath, and clutching each other's arms, they waited. The smudges gradually took more distinct shapes as they moved toward the shore. They had the decidedly peaked prows of Japanese landing barges-and they were only 400 yards away. It hardly seemed possible, but there was no mistake. They were Japs! Later reports indicated that ten Jap barges had started out for this attack, but only four remained to charge the beach. Taking advantage of the dark night and rough sea, the Jap boatmen let their ramps almost down when 600 yards offshore, cut their motors and were quietly paddling their boats in for the landing. Fortunately, Sgt. Fuina had spotted them. He yelled an alarm and ran toward his 37 mm antitank gun to fire an alert. Cpl. Koch ran from hammock to hammock to awaken all the gun crews, but Pvt. Van Noy, awakened by Sgt. Fuina's first yell, was already in his gun position. His loader, Cpl. Stephen Popa of Mayville, Michigan, was right after him. Their gun was only fifteen yards from the water's edge and, when some of the larger guns to their rear opened up, firing blindly, Van Noy held his fire. That took guts. The barges kept coming in, almost under the very nose of Van Noy's camouflaged gun. Then the Japs started to hurl grenades by the handful, and one burst in Van Noy's gun emplacement. It was just a lucky toss for the Japs still couldn't see the gun position and Van Noy had held his fire, for that one reason. The shrapnel shattered one of Van Noy's legs and wounded Popa. It looked as if they had waited too long and lost. A sergeant back of Van Noy, seeing that they couldn't hope to hold out, shouted to them to get back from the beach. Aussie Bren gunners, between bursts, yelled, "Come out of there, you bloody fools." But the two gunners refused. The ramps of the Jap barges fell to the beach and, when the invaders blew their bugles and began to charge, Van Noy pressed his finger on the trigger. His gun spat angrily and fatally. The first to fall were two Jap officers trying to scorch the gunners out of their position with flamethrowers. Behind them other Japs flopped on the sand, firing and throwing grenades. Van Noy was seen to install a second chest on his gun and reopen fire with Japs only a dozen feet away. His gun traced patterns among their forms as thev tried to crawl forward. One after another was hurled into eternity as his gun flashed. But in the darkness he couldn't hope to see all the Japs edging toward him. His gun finally went silent, but only a handful of Japs had escaped that gun's fire. None of the other guns on the beach could fire on the particular spot where the Japs landed. After it was all over they found Van Noy dead, his finger still on the trigger, the last round fired from his gun. Popa, alive but unconscious, lay with a dead Jap sprawled across his body. Badly wounded, he had managed to grab a rifle and fire a bullet into the head of the Jap coming at him with a bayonet. Van Noy and Popa, who was awarded the Silver Star, virtually had defeated the landing attempt with their one machine gun. The Japs didn't try another landing on Scarlet Beach. About a year later the Army Service Forces in Washington, D. C., developed a new type of port repair ship, a seagoing vessel of 2500 tons. When the first one was launched, it was christened the "Junior Van Noy" in honor of the 19-year old American boy who gave his all for his country on battle-scarred Scarlet Beach in New Guinea, far from hi