South Pacific

When the convoy approached within sight of the Guadalcanal Islands the men of our unit were transferred from the seaplane tender to a comparatively small gunboat. We were crowded onto the deck with hardly enough room to sit down and they took us to Russell Island, not far from Guadalcanal. The Japs had invaded the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, Borneo, New Guinea, and were posing an eminent threat to Australia. They had strongly fortified the southern end of Guadalcanal. The American fleet had recently destroyed the big portion of the Jap fleet in the China Sea area. The marines were in the process of landing on Guadalcanal and the island was being bombarded by everything the Americans could use. The explosive came from strafing aircraft and warships of all sizes, 2 aircraft carriers, several big battleships, cruisers, destroyers, down to gun boats. American and Jap fighter planes were chasing each other around in the sky above us as American bombers pounded the Jap fortification. A contingent of marines was already camped on Russell Island and a Navy SeaBee construction outfit was just completing a coral airstrip of sufficient length to land a large B-24 bomber.

The Seabee's were older men with construction experience, inducted into the Navy for the duration of the war. The name Seabees is taken from the first letter of each word of the official name, Construction Battalion. Most of the World War II Seabees were experienced carpenters, plumbers, electricians and engineers in civilian life. They had to make the roads, the airfield runways, haul the coral from the beach to make the landing strips, set up saw mills and log out the timber to be sawed to construct the necessary buildings (usually of rough cut lumber), mess halls and airfield operational buildings and maintenance shops. The mahogany tree was used frequently and lent itself with ease to logging and is also a fine hardwood for making furniture. Our unit was to be the aircraft operational crew. They unloaded us into a grove or plantation of coconut trees owned by the Palmolive Soap Company, but failed to bring any other supplies or equipment in with us. The first day we were able to break through enough coconuts to quell our hunger pangs and the next morning our captain talked the Marines into feeding us breakfast. That day our grub supply arrived.

The Marines and Navy were now getting real busy trying to blow them Japs to pieces. The bombardment was a constant roar and at night a great display of fireworks along with the racket. This continued for 2 or 3 weeks and by the time the battle ended that island looked like a plowed field as viewed from the air, not a bit of greenery remained. Marine anti-aircraft crews manned a dozen gun emplacements around the airfield and whenever any enemy aircraft came within range they tried their best to knock them out of the sky. Consequently a lot of shrapnel fell back onto the ground, bright shiny chunks of shells that had exploded high in the sky. Everybody picked up a few pieces but within a couple weeks those shiny jagged edges rusted and they didn't look very good any more, so I threw mine away.

We built our repair shops and set up the tools, which required about 2 days, then began to service aircraft used against the enemy. During the battle of Guadalcanal they flew constantly around the clock, and various crews put in long hours and double duty, sometimes 4 on and 4 off which wasn't near as tough as the ground troops that went in to clean up after the big guns and bombers got through.

One day when the fighter planes was buzzing around above us a spent 50 caliber slug dropped down and hit my friend on the shoulder and knocked him to the ground. Of course, he got up and retrieved the slug. We continued to service planes from this base for 3 months. Now the pressure was not so great we had more time for things other than keeping aircraft ready to fly. We serviced all types of Naval aircraft, plus P-38's and the Kitty Hawk night fighters, B-26's, B-25's, and B-24's which are the big four engine work horse bombers of the Army Air Force. When a plane came in with holes shot in it we patched the holes and sent them out to fly again.

When work slacked off I'd take a rifle and explore out in the jungle. Some trees grew very large there. One type had many roots that grew out from the trunk 20 or 30 feet up and when they reached the ground they turned and ran along the surface for quite some distance making a great support structure for this magnificent tree. I decided to climb a huge one that I found back in the jungle one day when I was wandering around, so I leaned my rifle up against it and started up. Once I passed the root system it had a massive main trunk with horizontal limbs occurring just often enough to make climbing easy without thick limbs to crawl through. Up and up I climbed. This old tree was the home of many small animals. Some were squirrel-like and some big eared, sort of like a little tree-climbing cat or dog but not either one. Strange birds, beautiful parrots and even some wild type pigeons. Finally I was getting up above some of the other jungle trees. I could see patches of sky and yonder tops of the jungle, but still there was great spreading branches from this mighty tree. Seemed like I'd been climbing steady for an hour, just the thoughts of how far made tingles run all the way from my heels up to the top of my head. I could now see pretty good in some directions but the main trunk was still 14 or 15 inches in diameter and big branches still obstructed a clear view. I finally let my squeamish feelings get control of me and began to climb back down. When I got back to the elevation where I couldn't see very far, I lost my feeling of height and the spooky feeling subsided. From there on down I climbed slowly, looking at all the little creatures as they moved about and looked back at me.

Back on the jungle floor, I'd often see big parrots of the most beautiful colors. In the more open areas I would frequently see flocks of red parrots that were about the size of starlings and also flocks of white ones with sort of a feather comb or crown on their heads. They were a little larger than the red ones, maybe the size of a mourning dove.

Wandering along one day I walked to the top of a little knoll. There, a small spring of water came up out of the ground in pure white sand. We had been instructed to never drink any water from the island, threatened with the dire consequences that we'd contract everything from typhoid fever to elephantitus, but after looking at how clean the water was and its source location, I figured this was good water so I tanked up. It was cool and sweet to the taste. The water the Navy furnished us was put in big canvas bags hung on tripods, called Lister bags. The taste was strong of chlorine so I was glad to find this spring of good drinking water even though it was a mile or so from camp.

The open parts of Russell Island where the coconut trees grew was used to unload cargo such as all types of cannon shells, rifle ammo, barrels of high octane gas and many other war supplies. The supplies were spread out so bombing planes could not destroy much with each bomb. Every box of 30 caliber ammunition contained 1500 rounds and that number supplied my shooting urges for quite awhile. Sometimes I'd shoot till the gun barrel became so hot the wood along side burned with a great smoke.

One day they loaded our outfit aboard a L.S.T. which is a large landing boat or seagoing craft with a ramp that lowers in the bow. Tanks, trucks, and other vehicles can unload from the hold of the ship. We island hopped for the next few months. On one island, called Green, the L.S.T. pulled up to the shore, lowered the ramp and we commenced to unload. Up the beach at the edge of the jungle was a big stack of something under a tarp. Didn't take long till some enterprising feller checked under that tarp and found it to be boxes of all kinds of canned food, graham crackers, etc. that the Navy had supplied for use by a group of Australian soldiers who had recently landed on the island. When I looked up that way there was a line of our fellers with boxes on their shoulders heading out through the jungle, so I joined their ranks and got me a box of graham crackers and a can of sliced bacon. The pile was about 1/3 gone when the Aussies woke up to what was happening and put a guard on their grub.

A few days later we moved up to the north end of the runway where we made a permanent camp, for the next month or so. This island must have been the top of an old volcano. Even though it was covered with dense jungle growth it was impossible to dig a fox hole without the use of blasting equipment. Much of the underground structure was volcanic rock. Me and 3 of my close friends set up our tent at the base of one of those many-rooted trees. When air attacks occurred we laid flat between some of the big roots running out along the ground surface.

One night the Japs made an all-out effort to wipe us off the face of the earth. Just after dark they came in with wave after wave of bombers dumping their explosives down onto us. The anti-aircraft guns and those from several ships put up an umbrella of tracer bullets that surpassed any fireworks display I've ever seen. The constant roar of the guns, the rattle of smaller rapid fire 50 caliber machine guns, the chonk, chonk, chonk of the 20 millimeter cannons and the bigger 40's at a slower rate: Choow! Choow! Choow! Them gunners was putting up a lot of dangerous flying objects, making the sky overhead a mighty unhealthy place for aircraft as they searched out their targets. We could see balls of fire as them boys made their hits and a Jap plane caught on fire then tipped down toward the ocean. We also heard the unpleasant sound of falling bombs, swish, swish, swish and kerblowy, swish, swish, swish, and a louder closer KERBLOOYand another and another. He's coming right for us. I glance over at my buddies and tent mates. We're all schootched down between the large roots of this humungus tree and we're laying as flat as we possibly can. I don't feel any fear. Then KERBLOWY!!! right next to us. From the side I see a big flash out through the thick jungle. Then we hear another swish, swish and another explosion down toward the Seabee's camp. Hope they missed them good fellers, they've been mighty kind to us young guys. (They serve better grub and we eat with them a lot).

Peterson, is a big lanky kid from Provo, Utah and Butikofer is from Idaho Falls, we camp in the same tent and we're the only LDS in our outfit. When the bombs ain't falling nearby Peterson goes back and lays on his cot. I say to him: "Better get down between the roots." That swish, swish sound is mighty close so he comes out again and a second later our tent has some shrapnel pass through the side walls. Pretty close timing!! The attack keeps up most of the night but the intensity has slacked off considerable. They gave up about daylight and all the racket subsides. Next day we hear that we'd shot up practically every bit of anti-aircraft ammunition on the island and on board the support ships that were maneuvering off shore, so the islands Commanding Officer sent out a hurry-up cargo plane to get some more ammunition quick before them Japs come back, but this was their last big effort. Except for an occasional high altitude nuisance bomber no more came over.

Not long after that night of colorful tracer bullets and shells we were lined up outside the mess hall for breakfast. Petersen and I were at the end of the line and we hear a deep rumble and things begin to shake. Someone hollers "Bombing Raid!!" and every body runs for cover, but I don't know which direction the attack is coming from. I'm watching their antics. They're dodging back of trees and then think it's on the wrong side so they get on the other side, quick-like. We're thinking about what to do when the thought comes to me that this was an earthquake, so we hurried up to the head of the chow line. Pretty soon the rumble and shaking quit and the chow crew got back in business and the fellers lined up and there we were at the head of the line. Sometimes a guy just happens to do the right thing.

On some of the islands we had time off to go down along the beach and look for shells or anything else of interest. There was one type that was especially attractive that all the fellers would pick up. It resembled an eye. They used it to decorated shop-made bracelets and necklaces. I liked to explore new territory so I was always traveling around when any opportunity arose. One time I went way down along this crooked beach, lots of rocks interspersed with sandy patches. I didn't think any Americans would be down there. I walked around a big rock and came face to face with a big black man. He was so black he'd have looked like a hole on a dark night. We were both quite startled and I thought he was a native since he was wearing a pair of shorts, but when he started talking I could tell he was from the deep south of the United States and was a friendly type guy, so there was someone else besides me who liked to get away by himself.

Sometimes us guys went swimming in the ocean and there were colorful fish in those tropical waters. We didn't get out very far from the shore for fear of sharks. Also, we kept a sharp lookout for those jelly-like balls which floated around. They were quite transparent and hard to see but I knew they were poisonous. They didn't resemble a fish in any way, seems like they just drifted with the current. It rained a hard shower about every day, sometimes more often, so it wasn't hard to find a place to take a shower and there was no danger of indecent exposure.

When the Japs were pushed off all the islands to the Philippines and General McArthur had returned and was cleaning out the Japs there, we had time to watch movies from home on a screen stretched between 2 coconut trees. Sometimes when things got real interesting there would come 3 blasts of the siren which meant there was enemy aircraft overhead and all lights would go out. That made us hate them Japs worse than anything else. Didn't mind `em dropping a few bombs, but to shut off Marilyn Monroe was unforgivable.