Jungle Land

When we first landed on Russell Island we were instructed to dig a fox hole as shelter during bombing attacks. With shovel and pick we worked at it, but the ground was tough. (like trying to dig a hole in a rubber tire). All the soft soil had washed away a thousand years ago. After working at it several days we finally got it down about 3 feet and a bank of dirt around it that stood a foot high. We covered this hole with some logs of coconut trees that provided a place where 6 or 7 guys could crawl into for protection. Whenever the radar picked up the presence of aircraft within a certain distance, a single blast from the siren would alert everyone that unidentified aircraft was in the area. If and when they were identified as enemy planes 2 blasts would sound and when it was apparent that they were coming to attack the "red alert" or 3 blasts were given. Everybody except the anti-aircraft gunners were supposed to find shelter. Sometimes when we were working at the shop or quite a distance from our shelter we'd duck in with someone else or find a low depression to lay flat in where we'd be out of the line of shrapnel.

After a month or so the Americans whipped the Japs so thoroughly that they attacked only at night. These were high altitude nuisance bombings. The search light would pick the enemy planes out high above us and the gunners would try to place exploding shells in their path. Also as soon as they knew an attack was eminent Kitty Hawk night fighters would take off and climb for altitude. When they got in position the guns on the ground ceased shooting and the search lights flicked off. Pretty quick you could see streams of tracer bullets streak across the sky and end abruptly at a certain point. Then balls of fire developed as they took effect on the target and that ball of fire would fall away in an arc toward the ocean. We knew that men were dying and even though they were the enemy it gave you a strange feeling.

Not far from our tent and bomb shelter was a pond or small lake with a little island in the center where thick brush and trees grew. This was the home of a big crocodile. We never saw him but his fresh tracks were always in the mud at its edge. One night after a red-alert had sounded and we sat huddled in our bomb shelters we heard the swish-swish of a falling bomb, then a bright flash and Kerblowy!! not far from us. Next morning the little island in the middle of the pond was gone and we never saw anymore sign of of croc in the mud.

After the heat of the battle had passed on to islands more distant and the Japs were pretty well whipped, we had more leisure time. I would take my rifle and go exploring the jungles and beaches. None of my friends wanted to go with me so I generally wandered alone. In this area where the coconut trees grew I did a lot of target practice. My big problem was that the gun barrel would get so hot the wood side of the barrel smoked. I couldn't shoot near as many bullets as I would have liked. Wild pigeons lived here and were of a fair size. One roasted over a fire was a tasty morsel and took me back to experiences of my former days. I kept my rifle wrapped in a waterproof canvas in the cavity of a hollow tree and also applied oil and grease to it every time it was used. When we moved to the next island I filled the barrel with grease and put a heavy layer over the entire gun, then wrapped it especially well and left it in the tree. About 2 years later, on our way back to the states, we stopped by that island for a few days. When I unwrapped my old gun the barrel was completely filled with rust.

There were several lagoons that came into the island quite a distance and the upper ends would become quite shallow. Where it was only 3 or 4 feet deep or less a type of tree grew out across the water with roots which would run horizontal an inch or two above the water. Sometimes they'd stretch quite a distance before turning downward to the bottom and were sufficiently numerous and large to where a man could walk along, stepping from root to root. The lowest tree limbs grew out 4 or 5 feet high with no underbrush, making a relatively clear area except for the trunks of the trees that stood upright. One day I was picking my way across this strange wonderland, looking ahead to choose the most likely place to step. In the line of my travel and about 8 feet ahead of me, one of the gray roots that I had picked out to step on flipped his tail and with a big splash took off. Most generally that set up would have been a most opportune time for a crocodile to get something to eat but the good Lord decided to have mercy on me and give me another chance to do better. His decision was probably greatly influenced by the prayers of Mom and Dad. After thinking about things and crocodiles in particular I decided to explore where the footing was a little firmer.

The outer husk of a coconut is fibrous and tough. It's very difficult to remove without proper tools. The nut itself is about 3 or 4 inches in diameter with a dark brown shell that covers some tasty white nut meat, about 3/8 inch thick. The cavity inside the nut is filled with a good tasting sweet juice. Whenever I got thirsty I'd shoot one down from a tall tree and quickly pick it up and drink the juice before it all ran out. Wasn't bad drinking but would have been better without the taste of gunpowder. Besides the crocodile, there were large lizards that would get at least 3 feet long. I never did see any snakes.

Shortly after we first started operation the marines brought in 30 or 40 open topped jeeps and parked them in a bunch among the coconut trees. To secure them they ran a chain around the perimeter from tree to tree about 2 1/2 to 3 feet off the ground. There were plenty of enterprising navy boys that could figure out how to get a jeep over that chain. Wasn't long till there was one of them new jeeps down at the shop being painted a navy blue. They just got it done and was trying it out when one of the Ensigns saw it and pulled his rank. I think he had it overnight when the Executive Officer spotted it and took it away from the Ensign. By that evening it was sitting in front of the Captain's tent. That of jeep sure advanced fast in rank; started out as a 3rd class petty officer and in 2 days jumped to the rank of captain.

The marines employed a bunch of the head-hunting cannibals to put up some thatch roofed native type shelters to store grub supplies under. They were black as midnight and as ugly as sin. They all wore a breach clout and looked about alike except some of them had 2 flappers of black hide hanging down on their chest. Didn't take too long to put up sort of a warehouse roof that would serve the purpose of keeping things out of the rain. Looked pretty good, too, like as if they knew what they were doing. Then they hauled them all back over to another island that was off-limits to the military so none of the fellers would get amorous notions about them black girls. But some of the boys wasn't too concerned about the off limits provision and would slip over there in a motor boat to do some trading. Those old head-hunters liked cloth, especially white cloth and would trade about anything for a mattress cover.

The Australians had some of them mean black guys enlisted as Jap head hunters. They'd slip through the jungle and cut off a Jap's head before he was aware he'd lost it. Some of the guys had pictures of them head hunters with a whole big basket of Jap heads, probably about 2 tubs full.

After the thatch warehouse was completed, a cargo ship came up in the lagoon and unloaded a lot of food supply. Some of us navy boys were put to work hauling it over and some were unloading and stacking. I worked right in the warehouse so knew where the boxes were and what they held after the food was unloaded. They had Marine guards patrolling its perimeter at night but us guys could slip by even if they did have a flood light and it was especially easy when there was a red alert and all lights went off. We'd stock up on canned fruit and other good grub that was usually reserved for the officers. Raisins were a popular item with some of the boys. They'd run off a batch of Raisin Jack that'd make `em pretty happy for awhile. They'd hide their brews here and there but if a feller had a good nose he could usually sniff it out. There'd be a lot of bad sounding words polluting the air when a jug came up missing.

Down in those islands so close to the equator it's always hot and never feels good and refreshing, but it rains often and that will cool you pretty good and it's a handy time to take a shower as long as you didn't lather up too much and get caught all covered with suds when the rain stopped.. In the evening there's not a long twilight period. It's either light or dark and then all the little night creatures would begin their socializing songs. It would swell into noise equal to, but different from the noise of a large mountain creek. Took some getting used to before a guy could easily fall asleep. Malaria mosquitoes are a scourge in the islands. We were given a very bitter little yellow pill to take every day, called attabrine, also the rule was to wear long sleeved shirts and long pants, but many of the fellers didn't follow these instructions and therefore contracted malaria. Available also was a real good mosquito repellent which I used diligently. I didn't want to contract malaria so was careful and never did.

I really didn't think the country was worth fighting for but they were the stepping stones for the Japs to take Australia. When we boarded the ship and headed for home I was one happy feller and I figured this would be the last time I'd ever come over on this side of the world, but 60-odd years later I'm there again in the same general area of the South China Sea. Some people have a hard time to learn a lesson.