The next month became a blur of activity from dawn to dusk as two divisions, one Army, one Marines, prepared to go ashore on Bougainville. I’d heard somewhere that the armies with the best logistics would win every time, and now I was a believer. There was little active fighting going on over there on New Georgia, but a trickle of casualties continued to come in from straggler patrols, both there and even here on Rendova. The Japanese simply did not surrender, which meant that, when they were overwhelmed, the survivors redeployed into the jungle, recovered as best they could, and then continued the fight in small guerilla groups or even as individual snipers. They had not endeared themselves to the local tribes, so when the Army sent out hunting parties, tattered figures would emerge from the jungle trails and point silently. There was no effort to take prisoners. They would have presented a logistics burden, and besides, they’d usually kill themselves before allowing the Americans to take them. That fact left everyone, Japanese and American, satisfied.
Nine weeks after New Georgia was declared “secured,” Bougainville was invaded. We medics had no picture as to the deployment of forces, where and when they landed, or with how many troops. We caught glimpses of Navy ships out in the channel, including some of the new cruisers that were coming out of the shipyards in increasing numbers to replace our losses at Guadalcanal. The PT boat squadron was ordered to stand by for a movement to Puruata Island. I told my medical crew that we were going to just lay low as the Guadalcanal hospital staff moved into Rendova prior to staging over to Munda airfield. The Japanese did not seem to want to interfere with any of this. All the mess-tent strategists were convinced that they’d decided to withdraw into their bastions on New Britain Island to await the inevitable invasion of Rabaul.