1943 (Kirov Series Book 27)

by John Schettler

  This need to keep troops on the coast between Nandi and Latouka was a serious liability, and it meant that the Japanese could never get parity with the attackers, who enjoyed a two to one advantage on both fronts.

  Just as the action on the main Fiji island was looking inevitably grim for the Japanese, a long simmering feud between two senior officers was going to weigh heavily the outcome. It had started months ago, involving Colonel Masanobu Tsuji, the brilliant and aggressive planner that had helped lead Yamashita’s lightning advance through Malaya. Yet in tandem with those qualities, his temperament included a strong dose of brutality, and many atrocities were committed when Tsuji was near. One such incident was the terrible Sook-Ching Massacre of Chinese in Malaysia and Singapore, and another smaller affair had occurred on the island of Cebu, where it soon came to the attention of the Japanese commander leading the occupation there, General Kiyotake Kawaguchi.

  The General had learned that several court justices and other local officials had been summarily executed by The Kempeitai, and at the urging and direction of Colonel Tsuji. He vigorously protested, calling the acts nothing more than barbaric revenge killings, and saying they were beneath the lofty heights of Bushido, the warrior’s code. Tsuji did not appreciate this opposition from a rank and file General in the Army, and resolved to exact a little more revenge against Kawaguchi.

  Having become somewhat influential after his successes in Malaya and elsewhere, Tsuji maneuvered behind the scenes to get Kawaguchi’s 35th Brigade transferred to the most dangerous fronts of the war, hoping that he might then regret his remarks, or even be killed in action. It so happened that the battle underway in the Fiji Group was now the center of the hot fire of the war, and sure enough, Tsuji used his influence to see that Kawaguchi’s Brigade was placed into the 17th Army Reserve, and suggested it be sent to relieve the now badly depleted Sakaguchi Brigade on Viti Levu.

  Since the 48th Division was already earmarked for deployment to Fiji, Kawaguchi’s Detachment would go to Noumea to reinforce the Ichiki Detachment there instead. As such, it became a desirable reserve in theater, close at hand and light enough to be lifted on fast destroyers. Tsuji’s revenge would soon see the unit arrive at a critical time in the battle for Viti Levu.

  General Kawaguchi did not know he was being set up by Tsuji at all. In fact, he looked forward to any opportunity to get his men into battle, much preferring that to any assignment in a backwaters reserve position on New Caledonia. His brigade had stormed through Borneo, taking Kuching, Pontiak, Tarakan and other vital bases. Then he went to Cebu and Davao in the Philippines where he ran afoul of Colonel Tsuji. Heedless of his enemy’s plan, the General gleefully packed away his dress whites in a trunk to wear as he accepted the American surrender on Viti Levu—at least that was how he saw things happening in his own mind when he got the orders to assemble his troops at Noumea Harbor.

  There were the cruisers Haguro and Myoko, with destroyers Ushio, Akebono, Ariake, Yugure, Shigure and Shiratsuyu, all waiting to take his men on a fast ride east through the night. He breathed in the night air, his eyes watching the clouds above as they chased the moon, confident he would soon prevail.

  Confidence is one good quality in an officer during war, but when it ripened too much to overconfidence, it became a dangerous thing. That ripening was not so dangerous in a man like Kawaguchi, but it was becoming fatal in the mind of General Imamura, the overall commander directing these movements. He was now sending what amounted to the last strategic reserve the Japanese Army had in the entire South Pacific, and to a place where the merits of such a deployment were questionable, to say the least. Yet Imamura had a reason for being so generous with his thinning troop reserve. It was one he would hold close for a time, and one that would soon change the entire course of the war, or so he believed.

  The only thing that mattered on Viti Levu were those airfields—not the town of Tavua, or the little harbor at Nandi Bay, nor even the gold mine. When the order to send Kawaguchi came in, the fields at Tavua and M’ba had already been rendered useless. Now there was only the main field at Nandi, about ten Kilometers north of the new front line in the south. If Patch could gain just a few more kilometers, he would have that field under his guns, and the whole reason for all these deployments would be rendered null and void.

  Yet all Imamura could see was the hope that, with this new reinforcement, the situation might still be reversed. For his part, Kawaguchi had every reason to feel he would soon wear those dress whites. His honor demanded no less. The “Brigade” he commanded was really no more than a reinforced regiment, the 122nd under Colonel Oka, augmented by the Kuma Battalion from the 4th Infantry Division. It was still a strong force, and would soon become a most welcome reinforcement for the defenders on Viti Levu.

  In another retelling of these events. Kawaguchi had been fated to tangle with the US Marines, and by a twist in fate’s contorted rope, that was exactly what was going to happen here again.

  Chapter 11

  Sugar had been a cash crop in the Fiji Islands for generations, ever since the British brought indentured laborers from India to work the plantations and sugar cane fields. On the main island of Viti Levu, there were now large crushing mills at RakiRaki in the north, at Suva, and the big mill at M’ba on the river. Small mills, up to 34 at one time, dotted the island as the center of many plantations. The Rarawai mill at M’ba had been established in 1886 by the Australian Colonial Sugar Refining Company. Over the years it had grown considerably, a complex of many buildings, some stone, others tin sided with wood beam frames. The place was sited right on the east bank of the river, just south of the town, and right between the major road bridge a kilometer north, and the rail bridge 500 meters to the south. It was therefore a strategic position of great importance, and Colonel Shoji saw that immediately.

  The threat the Marines now posed to M’ba produced a violent histamine reaction through the Japanese defense structure. There had been several battalions of the Yokosuka SNLF guarding the landing sites, and they were all relieved by construction troops and rushed to the town. Now, the addition of Kawaguchi’s forces and the retreat of the Ito and Tanaka Regiments would produce a massing of ground power near that vital town. Edson, Carlson and the 2nd Marines were going to have a good deal of very unhappy company soon. Their long mountain trek and end around maneuver was soon going to become the main front of action in that segment of the island, and that Sugar Mill was going to stand like a factory of Volgograd, the scene of an intense battle yet to come.

  The situation facing the Marines went from the jubilation of a surprise attack, the daring of that night raid, to the growing concern that they were now up against much more than they bargained for. The arrival of Kawaguchi’s troops was a turning point. The advance on M’ba by the 2nd Marine Regiment was halted, and seeing greater numbers of enemy troops arriving on the scene, they wisely fell back to the southern edge of that field. Kawaguchi quickly occupied the Sugar Mill on the river and set up his headquarters there. He then deployed his men forward, reoccupying M’ba field in the wake of the US withdrawal.

  Even though his 228th and 229th Regiments were withdrawing west and south from the Tavua area, General Tadayoshi Sano now turned his attention to the threat posed by the Marine Raiders on his south flank, west of the M’ba river that bisected his position. He could not allow that flank to be turned, which would cut off the bulk of his forces still east of the river. It would begin on that far left flank, where the Yokosuka SNLF battalions had been combined into a special brigade under the overall direction of Admiral Gunichi Mikawa. Whenever the Kido Butai withdrew to fleet ports to replenish or regroup, it was Mikawa’s responsibility to organize the naval support runs out to Fiji.

  The Admiral had already been chastened by Combined Fleet Chief of Staff Ugaki when several cruisers were damaged in an attempted bombardment of Suva earlier. Now he had the difficult job of holding up the Navy’s honor in the land battle as well. He looked for a suitable officer wit
h ground combat experience, and selected Commander Minoru Yano to take the Combined Yokosuka Brigade under his wing.

  Now these troops were massed west of the M’ba river, their lines extending as additional companies arrived from their former guard assignments on the coast. Yano wasted no time organizing a major attack on the morning of January 14th. His intention was to either destroy or drive off the two Marine Raider Battalions west of the river, and secure that flank.

  Carlson had thought his left flank was well protected by the imposing rise of a thickly wooded hill dubbed Koronviria, but the Japanese Marines would prove him wrong. All that day, they had scaled the far side of the hill, getting into position after dark and resting. Now they were ordered to make a night attack, with 4th Yokosuka on the extreme flank charged with swinging widely around the presumed enemy line to outflank it, while 3rd Battalion made a direct attack on the forward companies of Carson’s line that had just put an end to Kenji Tokawa behind that machinegun.

  The enemy moved like shadows through the sodden underduff of the forest, coming upon the lines of 3rd and 4th Companies like phantoms. Gunfire erupted all along the line, but Carlson’s men had been thinking they were turning the enemy flank, and were now surprised at the strength of the attack on their left. The Japanese Marines swept down the eastern flanks of that hill like a dark wind, and as rifle fire erupted well behind his left shoulder, Carlson realized what was happening.

  “Christ almighty,” he said to his radio man. “The bastards worked their way around our left. Get on the radio and see if Edson can throw some mortar fire onto that hill!”

  He could hear the battle intensifying, then saw his men rushing back from their forward positions in groups of three and five. It was clear that the enemy had pushed them to retreat, and his jaw tightened. Carlson blew his whistle, shouting at the men to come his way.

  Up ahead, he saw something he would never forget, big Ed Thompson, all of six foot four and muscle top to bottom. He had exhausted his ammo, and was standing at the edge of his slit trench swinging his rifle like a club as a wave of Japanese infantry swept over the line. Carlson saw the big man bat down three enemy soldiers, then a fourth stuck him with a bayonet in the gut. Thompson doubled over, then lunged at his assailant, taking the enemy by the throat and literally lifting him off the ground. He would choke that man to death before three more Japanese Marines stormed up, one putting a bullet into Thomson, the other two using their bayonets. But that big Marine had killed three enemy soldiers as they charged, and four more before they took Thompson down.

  Somehow, seeing that man fight and fall like that steeled Carlson.

  “Form up here to my front!” he yelled, and the Marines rushed into the tree line where he had set up his battalion CP, lying prone on the wet ground. Then a lot of gunfire erupted off to the right, and Carlson knew that the enemy was hitting Edson’s battalion as well.

  Commander Yano had much more force than the Marines realized, enough to overwhelm that left flank and send Carlson’s men back in some disarray. At the village of Solo, there was now a bitter fight underway to control that foot bridge that crossed the river at the edge of M’ba field. Then, on the far side of the river, artillery fire began to come in on the positions of Colonel David Shoup’s 2nd Marine Regiment, heralding yet another attack.

  The Kawaguchi Detachment had arrived in force, and now it charged across that airfield, weathering the MG fire from the Marines as the men howled. They were known as a shock regiment, the troops trained to make this all-out attack, bayonets fixed and wailing like banshees as they came. The Marine lines were not fully prepared to meet them, the men only able to dig out shallow depressions in the field, with no wire, no mines, and no artillery behind them. Even the few mortar teams they had were still struggling over the river and trying to get set up when the night charge came.

  Shoup’s men were shocked indeed. One minute they had been making what they thought was a perfect flank attack on the enemy, the next they seemed to be tangling with an entirely new force, at regimental strength, that seemed to coalesce out of the mist itself and take on the terrible shape of this ferocious bayonet charge. Many of the companies were already low on ammo, but they held their ground, firing until they ran dry and then going hand to hand as the enemy reached their slit trenches at the far end of the field.

  Now the bolo knives were out, slashing like cruel machetes at the oncoming enemy. The Marines had more muscle and brawn than their enemy, and where it did come to close hand to hand combat, they generally held the line. The mortars of 1st Heavy Weapons Company finally got set up and put their four-duce mortars into action, which helped to slow the enemy attack.

  Major Ruud’s III Battalion took the full brunt of the enemy attack, which penetrated all the way to his CP, the men of his HQ fitfully firing their Tommy Guns as the enemy charged. Major Crowe’s II Battalion on his left was also hit hard and pushed back. Only Hays stood firm with I Battalion, but he was posted on the far right, beyond the low rise of Navoli Hill that overlooked the field to the east, and Kawaguchi had not attacked in that sector.

  The night charge had been perfectly timed with the attack by Yano’s SNLF troops. Unlike the disastrous charge made by 5th Division in the battle for Singapore, this attack was entirely successful, driving the enemy from the edge of the airfield.

  Just across the river to the west. The 5th Yokosuka SNLF had finally pushed Edson’s men out of Solo, commanding that foot bridge, which the Marines blew up with a bundle of three grenades before they yielded the ground. It was now clear that the enemy had much more strength than anyone anticipated. It was no longer a question of attacking M’ba to try and turn this flank.

  Now Colonel Hall knew he had no recourse but to fall back and try to rally his men near the ford they had crossed that day when they first advanced on the airfield. While that facility was empty of enemy planes, and useless as the offensive threat it represented for the Japanese, it was a point of honor. General Sano would not have it reported that he had lost both Tavua and M’ba in the same week. He had decided his division would now fight here, and to the last man.

  Back on the low hill that overlooked Solo, Edson saw that his own position was equally compromised when Carlson’s end around had been checked and then flanked by the surprising strength of the SNLF counterattack. He gave the order to withdraw, getting Carlson on the radio to tell him he needed to get his men back fast.

  “We can’t hold,” he said. “Fall back on my CP.”

  One by one, the rifle companies pulled out, some firing the last of their ammo to cover that withdrawal. Carson reached Edson’s position an hour later.

  “2nd Marine is in trouble,” said Edson. “They got hit with a tsunami east of the river. “The Japs came right across the airfield and damn near overran two of his battalions. The Kiwis are up on Nasiva Creek, so he’s pulled his men out there to shore up the line near the airfield. This attack is over. They’ve got the ball and we’re on defense now until Collins can get down here from Tavua with the 25th. His lead elements are only six or seven klicks away, or so he tells me. They plan on making a big push tomorrow morning.”

  “Nice of them to help out,” said Carlson with an edge to his tone. “Will they be doing that before or after breakfast?”

  “It’ll take them time,” said Edson. “Look at the map. They’ll have to clear that big peninsula west of Tavua Bay. Japs could have anything up there towards Yanutha Point. In the meantime, he tells me he can get two regiments in position to make a push on M’ba tomorrow, but that won’t likely get underway until afternoon. They’ll have to get sorted out after moving up tonight, get their artillery set up, and you know they won’t do that until daylight when they can scour out the enemy positions. Hell, they might not attack at all tomorrow, so we’ve got to consider what to do here.”

  “You ain’t thinking of surrendering now, are you?”

  Edson knew that Carlson was just jabbing him for the grief he had given him earlier ab
out the Makin Island raid. But when he thought about it, the situation they were facing now was equally dire. They could only carry so much ammo with them, and this whole operation was supposed to have been a diversionary attack to make the enemy think they had been flanked. Collins was late because half of Sano’s 128th Regiment had simply refused to yield their position on hill 1000 overlooking Tavua.

  It had taken four days hard fighting to take that hill, and the enemy there had fought to the last man. It had seemed that even their dead would fight on, for wounded Japanese soldiers would lie still for an hour, surrounded by their fallen comrades, then suddenly seem to come alive again to fire at any unsuspecting soldier unlucky enough to wander by. That set Collins men to work going over the dead with their bayonets. None were left alive.

  Now Collins had his 34th Regiment on the main road moving west from Tavua. To their left the 145th Regiment of 37th Division was on the line, and the southern flank of his advance was his 35th Regiment. His 27th Regiment was worn out after taking Hill 1000, and he was resting those men at Tavua, thinking he would use those troops to clear the peninsula west of the bay that Edson had mentioned to Carlson.

  There were two other tracks that led from the Tavua Valley over a series of intervening hills to the M’ba River sector. One led from the Gold Mine at Vatukoula to Nasiva Creek, where the Kiwi Commandos were holding on the extreme flank of 2nd Marine Regiment. By dawn the first companies of the 35th Regiment were wending their way down that highland trail into the lower cultivated plain that led down to M’ba, but they were tired and needing rest. Edson was correct in his assessment that Collins would not attack at all that next day, and the Marines were still on their own.