A JAPANESE SNIPER
A Long Walk to a Short Life
The malodorous, combined scent of rotting coconuts, fetid jungle vegetation, decaying human remains and his own body odour assault his olfactory system as he rises towards the upper branches of a tall coconut palm tree. Using a rope and pulley, his friend is hoisting him to his hide. With rope now securely tied to the tree trunk, their eyes meet – briefly – both keenly aware of what the future holds. With his back to Taki and forgoing a backward look, his friend shuffles away, bound for the rescue barges waiting on the beach.
Imperial Japanese Army Corporal Taki Nakamura1 is aware that this palm on Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands, could well be the last tree he ever ascends. But to die for the Emperor is honourable. After all, when he became a soldier in the Japanese Army, he also became the Emperor’s property and, in accordance with the Bushido code he was taught, dying for the Emperor is praiseworthy. Even though a wave of doubt mixed with fear occasionally sweeps through him, he is committed to his mission. He is but twenty-two years of age and has served the Empire since he was officially conscripted into the Army just after his twentieth birthday at the start of 1940.
Once he is in the perch he erected four days ago, he knows full well he will sit silently in his treetop hideout protected only by ripening coconuts, palm fronds and what his friends laughingly call his ‘hair shirt’, the camouflage netting that holds bits of coconut husks and palm leaf. His rifle locked and loaded, he will wait for enemy targets of opportunity. And as he waits he will sweat profusely. The dysentery that afflicts him rumbles deep in his gut almost continuously and quickly relieving the resultant urge has become second nature to him. But once in a tree hide, he must use the self-discipline the Imperial Japanese Army has taught him.
The tropical heat of the South Pacific eases only during the torrential rains that inevitably follow when the atmosphere can no longer hold the weight of the moisture evaporated from surrounding seas. It is the relative humidity more than the heat that causes the perspiration from his malnourished body (he has not eaten an adequate meal in almost four months) to trickle down the back of his neck between his shoulder blades to his belt line. There it is stopped by the service belt buckled around his waist. It now hangs loosely on his emaciated frame even though it fitted perfectly the day he arrived on the island. His now-rusting Arisaka rifle with its 2.5-power telescope mounted left of the receiver is hung by its sling across his chest, and hugs his back as his friend pulls him higher towards the spread of palm fronds above.
By any reasonable standard, he should be dead, a casualty of the seemingly endless ranks of U.S. Marines, with their tons of materiel, that have come ashore here over the past six months. He is a survivor, well trained in his craft. As a scout originally assigned to the Seventh Army’s 28th Regiment, he was always in the forefront of the action. He endured multiple battles with the enemy and has the wounds to remind him. Now, with his own forces aboard the ships that will free them from this hell-hole of an island, he is no longer in front, but is the last of the last rearguard. It is a rotten assignment, but duty is supreme and he is honoured to have volunteered for the job. As he finds his place among the palm fronds, try as he might, he cannot forget the friends who preceded him in death on this stinking piece of land in the midst of an ocean. It is a terrible place to die.
Finally, high in his palm tree hide, waiting for the enemy, he wonders if his family will ever learn his fate. The question has ricocheted around his mind: how did he come to this time and place in his life?
*
Basic training lasted six months (including indoctrination) even though it seemed much longer to Taki. After initial physical conditioning that included strenuous physical training, running, marching, and martial arts instruction, all recruits were given extensive bayonet drill. Bushido required that the true warrior must attack, attack, attack and with his superior spirit and will to win, close with and destroy the enemy face-to-face. There were field exercises with emphasis on unit tactics, forced marches under difficult conditions, close order drill, marksmanship; then more immersion in the Senjinkun, the warrior code. He had been taught, beginning in his third school year, that the destiny of the Army was the destiny of the Empire and the Emperor. No matter what the soldier did, it was for the Emperor, a deity. The Imperial Rescript was the motivation:
If you all do your duty, and being one with Us in spirit do your utmost for the protection of the state Our people will long enjoy the blessings of peace, and the might and dignity of Our Empire will shine in the world.
The state religion of Shintoism that was a fusion of Confucianism, Zen and Buddhism reinforced this mind-set when it stressed a martial spirit, self-sacrifice, loyalty, justice, a sense of shame if dishonoured, polite social behaviour, modesty, frugality and honour. Honour was valued as more important than life.2 These principles did not apply to the enemy. They were Taki’s study subjects during off-duty hours in the barracks.
To Taki, barracks life was not significantly different from his civilian world. Conformance, unthinking obedience and crowded living conditions were part of his prior life. As a new conscript, he found himself at the bottom of the ‘pecking order’ and anyone who had been inducted earlier than he could punish him at any time. Constantly reminded that he was worth only issen gorin (one sen, five rin – less than a penny) and far less than a good artillery horse, he understood that he was sub servient – immediately, early and often. This sort of seniority system went well beyond rank.
Taki quickly came to understand that within his barracks, soldiers divided themselves into divisions: those with less than three months’ service were the lowest category; those with over six months further sub-divided themselves into those who had been promoted and those who had not. Older soldiers assumed the status of NCOs when regular NCOs were not present and often compelled less senior soldiers to clean their gear, serve their meals, run errands and do other degrading tasks in the barracks. Seniority, or time in service, became as important if not more so, than rank. The term used to describe their longevity in uniform was menko (literally, the wooden tray on which food was served), which was suggestive of the number of meals consumed since being conscripted. Menko became more important than rank in this man’s army. This made barracks life an endurance test for the average soldier.3
Severe punishment was dealt out by NCOs with no attention paid to its prohibition by the Imperial Rescript which read:
. . . Superiors should never treat their inferiors with contempt or arrogance. Except when official duty requires them to be strict and severe, superiors should treat their inferiors with consideration, making kindness their chief aim, so that all grades may unite in their service of the Emperor.4
NCOs consistently failed to abide by this principle, which perhaps attracted some NCOs with sadistic tendencies to covet training assignments. Common abuses included punching recruits in the face for no reason, or for poor performance. In extreme cases, NCOs used bamboo rods, swagger sticks, service belts or even rifle butts to issue punishing blows. The soles of slippers (of a sort) made from worn-out marching shoes, which still held the hobnails and heel clip, were used to slap the faces of recruits, often leaving cuts, bruises and permanent scars in their wake.5
Taki’s training cycle followed a rather precise pattern attuned to the seasons of the year. Since new conscripts were taken in January of each year, until May the programme consisted of squad training, bayonet drills and target practice. In February, a five-day march with a bivouac each night was held to condition troops to cold weather. June and July were spent with more target practice, bayonet, platoon and company training. Hot weather marches of 32 kilometres per day were commonplace to accustom soldiers to the heat. In August, company and battalion-strength exercises were combined with field work, combat firing range practice, swimming and, as always, more bayonet training. The forced marches were increased to 40 kilometres per day in rugged terrain to force the marchers to their fatigue limits. To finish the training cycle, in October and November, battalion and regimental strength operations were taught, plus a return visit to the combat firing range. The highlights of the finale were the autumn manoeuvres involving several divisions in war games.6
The offensive mind-set coupled with the organization of a platoon-size basic fire unit (including riflemen, machine guns and mortars) meant that instead of individual marksmanship, volume of fire from the entire small unit was preferable to long range targeting of the enemy. It followed, then, that the training for riflemen emphasized volume of approximate fire rather than pinpoint accuracy. Complicating this training was the fact that pre-1941 liberal use of ammunition was permitted, but from 7 December 1941, for obvious reasons, less was available for training. Most of the marksmanship training was based on a 285-metre range, but it quickly became clear that tropical jungles would render long-range marksmanship training efforts of this sort useless; therefore because of the limited supply of ammunition and in anticipation of jungle combat, the training focus logically shifted from long-range shooting to spend more upon care of the rifle.
His weapon was the standard service rifle, the Arisaka Year 38 bolt-action rifle. Built with a Mauser-type action, it fired a 6.5 x 50 mm (.256 calibre) projectile and was fed by a five-round magazine. Some 1,280 mm long, it weighed 3.95 kg with its 800mm barrel. It was the longest Japanese rifle due to the emphasis on bayonet fighting, When the 400 mm-long Type 30 bayonet was affixed, from butt plate to tip of bayonet blade, the Type 38 stood at 1,680 mm (5 ft 6 in.) next to the average Japanese soldier who stood just 1,600 mm (5 ft 3 in.).7
Taki had excelled on the rifle range and was selected for additional training as scout. The scout/soldier was re-issued a 6.5 x 50 mm Arisaka Type 97 rifle. It had a 2.5-power fixed-focus telescope affixed on the left side of the receiver, and a turned-down bolt handle (to clear the telescope when re-chambering a round). The telescope featured a 10-degree field of vision. It was functional but, with a fixed focus and no graticule (the lines within the scope’s optics that enabled aiming points other than the fixed focus point), it required the shooter to adjust his aim manually for ranges beyond the fixed focus point. As a single unit, the rifle and scope weighed in at 4.45 kg.8 In later stages of the war, the Type 99 rifle firing a heftier 7.7mm x 58 mm (.303 calibre) round was issued and found more effective in smashing through jungle undergrowth en route to its target. The scope supplied with this later rifle was an adjustable one rather than a fixed-focus model. Taki had heard about, but never seen the heavier rifle.
Taki, along with the others in his han (group) were taught that their mission was, in order of importance:
• To kill or capture hostile personnel – especially unit leaders and snipers.
• To neutralize or destroy hostile installations which may obstruct the successful completion of a Japanese unit’s mission.
• To destroy enemy heavy weapons and the personnel manning them.
• To deal effectively with all targets of opportunity which may come within range.
He learned to estimate ranges with his eyes only. Instructors placed objects at measured distances varying from 200 to 600 metres, which he then had to estimate by sight.9 He and his class mates spent hours pacing off distances to targets. In order to familiarize themselves with the sight picture differences between 200 metres across flat terrain and 200 metres through jungle foliage, uphill and down, they walked miles. Accurate estimating and shooting were a key part of the training regime.10
Once adequately trained on the rifle range for shooting accuracy and in distance estimation, he remembered that the emphasis shifted to concealment and camouflage training. With the primary mission of killing or capturing hostile personnel then reporting back to unit commanders, it was imperative to place scouts on the flanks of automatic weapons installations and to the flanks of any unit. Thus positioned, they would serve as an early warning signal for an imminent attack or spot weaknesses in the enemy defences. They could also fulfill their secondary mission as snipers.
Taki’s sniper kit was specially designed to make him effective. It included a gas mask, a combination mosquito net/ camouflage hood (this covered the head and shoulders), a green net to camouflage his torso, a coil of rope, a small sack of rice, a small bag of hard biscuits, 250 grams of boiled sweets, several cans of concentrated food, a small can of coffee, vitamin pills, a can of chlorine tablets to purify water, his mess kit, an antidote for mustard gas, quinine pills, bandages, socks, toothbrush, torch and an assortment of medical items packed in little wicker baskets. These were intended to keep him afield from two weeks up to a month, requiring only a minimum of food and water from the countryside.11
Considerable time and effort were expended in teaching the proper identification and use of native plants and their place ment in the camouflage net issued to all infantrymen. Foliage had to be coordinated with local plants so the shooter could blend in to his surroundings. He learned that, in some cases, special green uniforms and face paints could be used to deepen cover among the flora between the jungle floor and canopy. Although not specifically trained to use (or not use) tree tops as hides, some scouts, including Taki, would use trees because the height of trees afforded a better field of vision.
With the benefit of the smokeless projectile propellant, and the low muzzle flash from the long barrel of the Arisaka rifle, a scout could be virtually invisible, locating and eliminating multiple targets from the same hide. Conversely, he knew well that most, if not all, Allied arms featured a bright muzzle flash and accompanying propellant smoke from the barrel with each round fired. It was this small detail that enabled his fellow-scouts to locate and kill commanders and personnel of crew-served weapons effectively. He worked hard to assimilate every aspect of his training, taking it seriously. He knew he would see combat soon. He just didn’t know where or when.
In early 1942, with his training completed, Taki was assigned as an infantryman in the 28th Regiment, 7th Division. He was part of a force, embarked at Guam, ordered to occupy Midway Island. As an infantryman, he was trained to close with and destroy the enemy, not simply occupy the post. Garrison life was rife with the mind-numbing boredom of guard duty, coast-watching and endless drills for air raids, drills for sea-borne landing party repelling and the drudgery of close-order drill day after day. But even though the Japanese high command had fore cast Midway as perhaps the easternmost point of the Greater East Asia Prosperity Sphere, the Imperial Navy’s crushing defeat near there in June dictated a change in plans for the 28th Regiment. The ships carrying the troops were ordered back to Guam then, while en route, detoured once again.
Disappointment reigned supreme among the troops in the berthing compartments of the six destroyers transporting the regiment. They learned that they were being attached to the Seventeenth Army Command, based at Truk in the Caroline Islands, their destination. According to the sailors, who had access to radio traffic, the unthinkable had happened. Japan was being counter-attacked on an island in the Solomon chain.
On 7 August, U.S. forces landed on Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands, just as Imperial Army engineers, supplemented by local labourers, were completing an airstrip. The island was intended as a key location for Japanese aviators when initially conceived. When the enemy landings occurred, the engineers and many of the conscripted labourers escaped into the jungles that surrounded the nearly completed airfield. They had informed the Army of the landings before they escaped and thus caused a great deal of discussion among senior officers. Between the planners on the Army staff and the conflicting information contained in the intelligence reports, two vastly different evaluations emerged:
(1) Enemy forces were on Guadalcanal, but in limited strength, in essence a strong patrol. This school of thought felt certain that those few troops would interrupt construction of the airstrip then leave the island without confronting the Imperial Army.
(2) The enemy were on the island in at least regimental force and intended to capture the entire island in order to use the landing strip as a base for attacks on Japanese shipping and other nearby Japanese-held islands.
All of this was unknown to Taki since it took place at high command levels. In the end, the coterie anticipating minimal enemy troops on Guadalcanal prevailed and the information was communicated through appropriate command levels, finally reaching Colonel Ichiki, commander of the 28th Infantry Regiment. After reviewing the plans for re-taking the island, Ichiki confidently vowed to his superiors that he would recapture the airport on the second day after landing.12
Ichiki’s men were honoured to be under his command. He had established himself as an aggressive, bold and brave leader. Many believed he had personally started the war with China at the Marco Polo Bridge confrontation at Wanping in 1937. His further experience in Manchuria against the Russians identified him as a young, assertive company commander, a reputation that followed him thus far in his career. It was not lost on his seniors when they were looking for regimental commanders.13 Taki was proud to be a rifleman of the 4th Company, 2nd Battalion, 28th Regiment – and an expert rifleman at that. The Guadalcanal landing on 19 August was burned within Taki’s memory as the day he became a warrior.
Intelligence reports provided to Ichiki indicated only a small enemy force would oppose his men. On 15 August he ordered the regiment’s 3,000 soldiers embarked on six destroyers at Truk for a night landing at Guadalcanal’s Taivu Point, roughly 35 kilometres east of the enemy encampment around the airstrip. He further reasoned he would not need the entire regiment if the force he faced was indeed small. After arriving offshore of Guadalcanal, he ordered 917 soldiers (about one-third of the regiment) into landing craft to make a silent landing on the beaches. This detached group included the 2nd Battalion, 28th Infantry Regiment, with a few artillery pieces and engineers. Known as the ‘Ichiki Detachment’, its orders were to remain on the beach until the balance of the regiment landed. The full regiment’s mission then, once totally off-loaded, was to recapture the airfield and drive the allied forces from the island. If the enemy could not be driven from the island or annihilated, Ichiki’s force would hold at the airfield and execute night attacks to halt construction.
Coupled with the ‘Ichiki Detachment’ landing was a feint by a small 250-man force of Special Naval Landing Force per sonnel. They would go ashore at Kokumbona, about 14 kilo metres west of the airstrip, to divert enemy attention from the main landing. Taki knew that these were sailors trained in Army tactics and tasked with specific objectives apart from the Army’s.
Taki felt it would be a quick victory, because the attacking units were instructed to take only 250 rounds of ammunition, seven days’ supply of food and no field packs. He was particularly pleased he would not be laden with the 20-kilo field pack in the heat of this battle. And now, as he stood at the ship’s rail in the darkness, only the sound of soldiers quietly working their rifle bolts and the muted squeaks of leather ammunition pouches were audible above the gentle swells of the sea. The air, even at this hour, was moist and hot. He recalled the steam baths of his home town – but only for a moment. Orders to report to debarkation stations broke his reverie.
It was 19 August 1942 at 0100 when Taki stood with his unit at the debarkation station awaiting his turn to go over the rail, down the rope netting and into the small landing craft that would ferry him to shore. After checking and re-checking his equipment, and a last shrug of his shoulder to make sure his rifle was secured by its sling, he clambered over the railing and down the net into the waiting small craft rising and falling gently beneath him. Following his training, he waited until the craft was on the rise of the swell before stepping from the net on to the craft’s gunwale and on down to the deck of the boat. The last soldier was off the nets. It was time for his baptism of fire.
As the boat’s coxswain steered away from the destroyer, Taki scanned the men aboard. He saw the emotion etched in their faces. He personally was trembling with fear and was somewhere between vomiting and collapse. But knowing the others were feeling the same way somehow made it a little easier for him. As the boat’s engine responded to the throttle and its bow turned to port and headed towards the island, he managed to raise his head high enough to get a brief look at the shoreline. He strained his eyes, but saw nothing more than a wide strip of beach and the outline of palm trees in the darkness ahead. Beyond the trees lay the black depth of the jungle. There were no accurate maps of this island so even though, as a trained scout, he was an expert map reader and could find his way using a compass, those skills, he knew, were moot.
The wooden craft skidded up the beach approach, its bow raising slightly as it lurched to a full stop, engine at idle speed, then quiet. Only the waves lapping the beach made any sound now. Upon order from an NCO, the troops stood and clambered up and over the gunwales of the craft to jump down on to the soft, wet sand of the beach. Fearing detection by enemy scouts, the detachment moved quickly across the beach and assembled under the cover offered by the palms and mangroves lining the edge of the jungle.14
Expecting token resistance when they alighted from their landing craft, to Taki’s surprise and relief, they found the beach deserted. Now, still believing the island to be lightly defended, Colonel Ichiki, who always led from the front, ordered a rear-guard of 125 soldiers be left at the landing site at the beach. Taki was glad he would not be left in the rearguard, and looked forward to honouring Japan with his bravery. Unknown to the Ichiki Detachment, however, the command decisions upon which the assault was planned were based on poor intelligence derived from erroneous assessments by Japanese administrators. Those plans would yield horrific results.
Not 2,000, as intelligence reported, but 11,000 U.S. Marines were aware of the landing. Their listening posts had heard the destroyers steam past. They immediately notified their commanders and the Marines quickly formed a full defensive perimeter inland from what they judged as the most logical landing point for Japanese troops; the lagoon that natives called ‘Alligator Creek’. The defenders had guessed correctly. Digging in defensive positions became a priority.
Colonel Ichiki’s orders were issued for the detachment to march west along the coast under cover of darkness. At 0630, after marching 14 kilometres across the beach, he ordered the troops into the cover of the jungle’s edge to rest and avoid detection from the air. During the night march, gunfire had echoed across the water from the direction of Tulagi Island to the north, but it was unclear to Taki who was firing at what target.15
Early on 20 August, Ichiki ordered Captain Shibuya to assemble thirty-eight soldiers to take a patrol farther west and establish a communication point at Alligator Creek.16 In fact, ‘Alligator Creek’ was not a creek, but rather a tidal stream that held running water only during the rainy season or during high tides. And the reptiles it held were not alligators, but crocodiles, a fine distinction if you were in the water near a large one. This lagoon, approximately 30 metres wide, was contained behind a 3-metre-high sand bar that varied between 10 and 15 metres wide along its length. The side towards the island was higher than the seaward side. It looked like a castle moat, but without a building inside.
Taki was ‘volunteered’ by his squad leader to go with the Shibuya patrol as a scout. He had not yet met the enemy, but felt honoured that he would be in the lead of this patrol as its point man. Captain Shibuya ordered the men to march through the jungle to avoid detection from the air. As he struggled just 50 metres ahead of the main unit, hacking his way through the dense vegetation with his bayonet, Taki kept his senses on high alert. Fighting through the jungle was a most difficult method of advancing, but he continued to move slowly and cautiously forward. Once he thought he glimpsed an island native scurry away through the bush. Certainly the local population posed no threat to an armed patrol! The thought that the native might report the patrol’s movements to the enemy never crossed his mind.
As they marched through the thick, rotting mass of greenery, rifle and automatic weapons fire rang out. The patrol was suddenly engaged from the front. Dropping prone behind a palm trunk, Taki unslung his Arisaka, cycled the bolt to ram the 6.5-mm cartridge into the chamber and carefully slid its muzzle over a protrusion of the palm base. The camouflage he had inserted in the netting of his helmet made it difficult for the enemy to see his position. He wondered, for a second, if he had enough foliage in the net. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears, he was afraid the enemy might hear it. They were trying to kill him!
The patrol was confronted by the enemy in strength. Taki couldn’t think or feel anything; it seemed as though his body was moving almost instinctively from the training he had undergone over the past two years. In one sense, the supersonic snap of bullets passing overhead made him want to burrow deeper into the stinking floor of the jungle. In another, detached-from-reality sense, he wanted to fight back. He finally summoned the courage to aim at a helmet just barely visible in the greenery 60 metres ahead.
Not even consciously recalling his rifle training, he formed the proper sight picture, the enemy helmet perched atop his front sight, centred in the rear sight; he slowly inhaled then let part of the air out as he squeezed the trigger steadily with the first joint of his index finger. The play in the trigger was taken up and the firm feel of its resistance led to a loud report from the muzzle. The recoil of the rifle shocked him into an acute awareness of what was going on around him. The helmet in his sight jerked backward as the target toppled over. His first kill.
His senses verified a slowing of fire from the front, but now the rounds were coming from the south, their left flank. The patrol was being outflanked! Unsure of where to direct fire, they were caught in a murderous crossfire of rifle, machine-gun and submachine-gun fire. Captain Shibuya screamed orders to his men, but few heard over the din of the battle at hand. Some turned to fire southward into the flankers; others kept their sights trained on the enemy to the west. It soon became obvious they were trapped.17 With the enemy in front and to their left, the sea to their right, they had only one route to survival – retreat into the darkness of the jungle. The tables had been turned. They, rather than the enemy, had been surprised. Taki made his way south-eastward, struggling through the under growth, evading capture.
Only four others managed to escape the enemy trap into the dark cover of the jungle canopy and its undergrowth. Diving under the exposed roots of the giant trees, Taki burrowed his face into the slimy floor beneath the canopy of palms and mangroves, hoping he had not been seen. His shirt was tattered from several rounds of near-miss rifle fire, and his ears rang from his own gunfire. But he was alive and it was all that mattered to him right now. His rifle and telescope in its leather case were unharmed; his ammunition and rations were still with him. He knew he had seven day’s rations, so he felt certain he could survive until the rest of the regiment landed and eliminated the enemy. And he had ammunition with which to ‘go hunting’ these butchers who killed his friends and fellow soldiers. What he did not know was that the remainder of the regiment would not land this day. The destroyers that delivered the leading part of the detachment into this maelstrom of gunfire were leaving them to fend for themselves on this godforsaken piece of real estate called Guadalcanal.
As the sound of the initial battle faded away to a random rifle shot here and there, Taki began crawling farther into the under-growth, but now westward towards the enemy positions. He would use the skills he had learned on the rifle range to eliminate as many of them as he could.
After crawling nearly 200 metres, he heard the sound of voices. They were not speaking Japanese, but English! Silently digging a shallow hole with his bare hands, he slowly pulled his rifle by its sling up along his body so he could position his hands in the shooting position. Sliding the sling up on his left bicep, he made the final adjustments in his firing position. Estimating the range at 80 metres, he selected an enemy soldier who appeared to be an NCO or officer. Again his practised trigger squeeze began and the rifle bucked against his shoulder. This time he kept his eyes open as the round slammed home in the neck of his target. The victim dropped straight down, crumpling like a piece of rice paper in an origami contest. The remainder of the enemy soldiers nearby dropped to the ground immediately, all facing outward. He knew the propellant used in his ammunition was nearly smokeless and the muzzle blast of his rifle had hardly moved the underbrush around it. Even knowing all of that, he also knew he could not fire from this position again. To do so would invite accurate return fire.
As he rotated the bolt handle upward and to the rear to eject the spent cartridge, the tree tops to his left were suddenly shredded by gunfire. With his head quickly buried in the soggy slime beneath him, he sensed that the enemy heard the sound of the action of the bolt, but had no idea from where the sound emanated. That information would be useful to him later. He had made mental notes as he watched the way the enemy went through all the pockets of his dead comrades.18 What were they after? Souvenirs? Information? What information did his patrol carry with them? The questions had no immediate answers for Taki as he lay in his pit of smelly, rotted plant material.
He waited for what seemed hours before the enemy soldiers began to leave the area. Finally, he felt safe enough to move about. Cold, wet and hungry, he still could not be certain of the enemy’s locations. He wondered about the fate of his friends. Was he on his own or could he find them? Again, no answers came. When finally the last of the enemy troops left the area, Taki crawled out to the bodies of his dead comrades. Checking what the enemy took from the pockets of the casualties but left behind would give him a good sense of what they took with them. Scattered around the bodies were wallets, photographs, letters from loved ones, cash and even wrist watches. He did not see any official documents like orders or maps. Conclusion? They took what they needed from the corpses and left. The damage done to the bodies by enemy bullets sickened him. He vomited and the acidic sourness of an empty stomach would always remind him of his dead comrades.
Ichiki soon learned of Shibuya’s rout and elected to respond with the rest of the detachment. His men shouldered their weapons and set a westward course to meet the enemy. They marched through the night, arriving west of the Nalimbu River at 0430. They were just 8 kilometres east of the enemy defensive line. On 20 August at 1200, Ichiki issued the attack plan to his officers. The 1st Company would attack westward on the sandbar, the 2nd Company would attack on the beach and the 3rd Company would attack inland. The intent was to capture the former Special Naval Landing Force camp between the Lunga River and Alligator Creek, fan out to capture the airfield then establish positions east of the Lunga using it as a frontal barrier.
Once all units were in position, the attack began at 0200 with a green signal flare. The 2nd Company’s attack across the sand-bar was first decimated by 37-mm canister fire at point-blank range and, as the survivors raced onward, they became entangled in the single strand of barbed wire that fronted the enemy positions. Machine-gun bullets again laced the charging troops but, in spite of the wall of fire, several reached the fighting holes of the defenders. The hand-to-hand combat was ferocious; defenders used their empty rifles as spears or clubs, attackers their bayonets; knives drawn and pistols un-holstered, both attackers and defenders fought for their lives.
The Imperial Japanese Army believed so strongly in the warrior ethic, that in its training, it inculcated the notion that when a Japanese force attacked, the enemy would break and run. This had been their experience in South-east Asia and China. But in their first encounter with U.S. Marines, that did not prove to be the case. Those men fought like devils. In less than an hour, all the Japanese soldiers inside the barbed wire were dead or dying. Ichiki ordered his machine-gun company into action but it was too little, too late. Enemy artillery found the range and quickly put the machine guns out of the fight as they tried to outflank the defenders.
The sound of the battle reached Taki and, duty bound, he turned northward to re-unite with the Detachment. He was tired, hungry, shaken and dripping with the residue of lying on the jungle floor, but after scraping the leeches off his legs and arms with his bayonet, he drove himself onward, hoping to reach his unit in time to fight again. As he neared the area, a cacophony of small-arms, machine-gun and artillery fire coming from enemy weapons pierced his hearing. He could scarcely imagine what was happening to his unit.
As the night of 21 August turned to 22 August, the defenders had launched a counter-attack that compressed Ichiki’s force into a triangle near the mouth of Alligator Creek. Trapped, with the sea to their backs, and enemy tanks clanking across the sand bar towards them, some tried to swim to safety but were found with accurate fire. Colonel Ichiki took his own life in atonement for his failure.19 By 1630, the Ichiki Detachment was non-existent. The wounded prepared themselves as human booby traps, concealing hand grenades beneath their bodies. When a defender approached to inspect the dead, he would be exposed to the blast as the soldier died honourably for his Emperor. Taki was horrified by what happened next.
Quickly coming to realize the Japanese soldier’s fight-to-the-death attitude, the enemy coldly went about shooting every body on the battlefield to be sure that they were dead.20 He watched as the corpses jumped when hit with rifle or pistol shots and it sickened him; and angered him. He vowed they would pay. He was a survivor and managed to escape into the jungle without being detected. How long would it be before reinforcements arrived? What was he to do in the meantime? Where was he? Were there other survivors? Many questions. No answers, yet. Of the 915 men who landed with the Detachment, 777 were dead, 12 wounded (including 1 officer) were captured, 2 unwounded were captured and 1 surrendered voluntarily. Only 123 other soldiers survived.21
Finding a glade well inland among the shadowing palms, Taki turned slowly and did a 360-degree survey of the terrain. His training told him to return to the point from which he started, so he headed towards the coast, taking a circuitous route to avoid detection. Other survivors in groups of two or three dutifully followed him back to Taivu Point.22 With only his bayonet to slash away at the dense undergrowth, it took several hours and multiple rest breaks to move just a short distance. But once free of the jungle, they sped their march back. Ravenously hungry, they raided the produce of local native gardens as they marched. They could not know that they had been ‘written off’ as casualties by their leadership. Taking to the jungle to avoid being seen from the air during daylight hours, they soon fell into a loose routine of hide, drink, find food, sleep, march then repeat it the next day. Slowly the group began to disintegrate as each soldier, tired, hungry, sick or wounded, began deciding for himself what his duty required.
Each night as he settled down to sleep, Taki was aware of the constant buzz of insects hungry to feed on warm blood. Missing his lost mosquito netting, he slapped and smacked at them for a short time before he dropped into a deep, exhausted slumber, unaware that these little creatures carried diseases that could disable an entire army – malaria and dengue fever. As he slept, they feasted.
As the 23 August morning sun fought its way through the canopy of the jungle, the dreadful feeling of being alone suddenly gripped him, causing him to shudder slightly. Was it from the cold, stinking muck of the jungle floor? Or was it because he was now a target of the enemy’s guns? As he stood in the dank air, dim sunlight filtering through the palm leaves, thinking about his situation, his training began to take over. He objectively reviewed his circumstances in the systematic way he was taught: On the positive side of the ledger, he had food, adequate but soaking-wet clothing, ample ammunition, a weapon and, perhaps most importantly, he was unseen and thus had the capability to kill at will. On the negative side, he might well be trapped by enemy forces, unable to contact his commanders for orders. His next steps became crystal clear. He would hide himself in the jungle until Colonel Ichiki brought the rest of the regiment west to engage the enemy. In the mean time, he would put his ammunition to good use.
After making his way through the jungle, leaving trail markers in his wake so as to find his way back, he reached an irregular ridge not far from the airstrip. He could hear the take-off and landing roar of the engines as enemy aircraft came and went. He took the body netting from his belt and began to insert the grasses that grew along the ridge. Stuffing some of it in his helmet net, he crept to the top of the ridge to get in position to acquire targets. He crawled to within 200 metres of the field, and chose a rise in the ground that was covered with the same grass as he had stuffed in his camouflage nets. Lying still, he slowly reached behind him and retrieved the telescope from its leather case. He smeared some dirt on the tube to avoid reflection, then attached it to the scope mounts of his rifle.
Peering through the scope, he slowly scanned the enemy perimeter left to right, then back again. There were sentries posted all around the airfield, but they were stationed only about 100 metres distant from the field’s edge. He was not interested in them. He wanted bigger game: a senior commander; a pilot perhaps; or at least a senior NCO. He spotted a lone Marine making his way across the end of the runway and began his firing cycle – aim, hold, breathe in, let half out, squeeze the trigger. The round left his rifle but missed its mark as the soldier bent over to pick up a dropped object. The supersonic snap of the round overhead immediately brought the entire section of sentries to high alert. He lay still and waited for another target to appear. He succeeded on his next shot – an officer, he thought. Maybe even a pilot! One more shot and then he would move to another location. That target, too went down when the round hit. It was time to move out. Backing slowly down from the rise, he rose to his feet, and keeping a half-crouch, made his way to the tall grass and the trail markers he would follow back to his hillside hide.
Taki would continue this routine for the next seven days. His food gone, he was reduced to eating betel nuts, coconut, red ants and snails.23 His water came from a hilltop stream that ran close by his camp. His clothes were nearly in tatters and he was covered with insect bites and leech blisters that nearly drove him insane with the itching that accompanied them. But his rifle was in good order and he had husbanded his ammunition well. On the night of 29 August, from his perch, he saw the approach of ships, darkened for stealth. Some 450 of the 124th Infantry and 300 of Ichiki’s Second Echelon were landed at Taivu Point.24 The next night the balance of the 28th Regiment was landed along with supplies. More would follow. On 31 August, General Kawaguchi, now the senior commander, brought another 1,200 soldiers ashore.25
Kawaguchi had ordered Colonel Akinosuku Oka to land 1,000 troops west of the Matanikau River near the site of the former Naval Landing Force camp. In transit, enemy night fighter planes strafed some of the sixty-one barges carrying them, and as a result, Oka’s troops became separated, landing at different points along the coast west of the allied perimeter. Finally, only about 600 effectives could be assembled.26
By 5 September, Kawaguchi’s total force totalled 6,200 versus what he still believed to be 2,000 U.S. Marines defending the airfield and the small perimeter around it. The estimate of enemy strength was low by a factor of six. There were nearly 12,000 U.S. Marines defending what they now called ‘Henderson Field’.27
After a week of creeping about between his hillside hide and Taivu Point, Taki met more fellow survivors hiding in the jungle. They were elated when Kawaguchi’s force landed. The survivors were absorbed into 3rd Battalion, 124th Infantry Regiment (III/124), fed, given clean, dry, uniforms, and de-briefed on what problems the jungle presented. They could relax, even if for a few hours. While Kawaguchi waited on additional forces to land, planning was in motion for the taking of the airstrip – the original objective of the assault.
On 8 September, III/124, now assembled at Koli Point,28 was ready to head into the jungle, intending to attack the field from the south as their part of the assault on the Marine perimeter. As Taki feared, in spite of his debriefing that warned of the difficulty presented by the jungle, his officers under estimated its resistance to penetration. It became a second enemy to fight. The III/124 started into the jungle and, soaked by a rain shower and their own sweat, they slipped, tripped and slogged their way towards the airstrip. Mosquitoes feasted on the troops as though they had never had warm human blood before. Slaps and curses were the only sounds apart from the grunts and groans when a soldier fell in the muck beneath his feet. And that was only part of the problem.
Having no accurate maps to guide them, the III/124 got lost and didn’t reach their attack position until the early hours of 12 September,29 the date the attack was to have begun. Kawaguchi was also unaware that part of his force still marching west along the coast had met disaster at Tasimbogo, losing artillery pieces and radio equipment to an enemy sea borne raid. He was also unaware that Oka had not got his troops under way at sundown on 11 September. They did not begin eastward until 0400 on 12 September and by 2200 his troops could hear the gunfire, but were not near enough to assist in the attack. They were hungry, tired, disease-ridden and harried by insects after having marched for eighteen straight hours.30 Regardless, Kawaguchi’s plan continued to unfold because the main force was seemingly undetected.
Native scouts had in fact reported to the defenders that Japanese columns were moving towards the perimeter. The Marines adjusted their defences to meet the new threat. Their artillery and mortars were re-zeroed on the path judged to the one taken by the attackers, a 900-metre-long crooked ridge with a 24-metre high knoll at its south end. There was a second knoll in the centre rising approximately 35 metres above sea level. The ridge resembled an insect with leg-like spurs running off either side. It was covered with grass rather than jungle foliage and its features could allow attacking units to approach unseen. To minimize the chance for a surprise, the defenders had cleared brush to open fields of fire for their machine guns in preparation for the anticipated attack. But even so, the defending forces comprised a thin line of tired, hungry and sleep-deprived fighters.31
Taki was sent ahead of the attacking force to scout the defences, but the clearing along the ridge would not allow him to get close enough to make any accurate assessment of the defensive array. Freshening the blended camouflage in his helmet net and on the back and sides of his torso netting, he crept through the heat-holding cogon grass to a rise that allowed him to aim his rifle. Scanning from right to left and back, he observed digging activity, barbed wire being strung, and communication lines being laid all along the ridge before him. An officer appeared to be supervising the work – a perfect target at 150 metres. Taking careful aim, Taki automatically went through his practised sequence of actions – attain the proper sight picture through the scope; inhale; let part of the breath out and hold it; squeeze the trigger slowly and smoothly; let the report of the rifle surprise you. As the rifle slammed back into his shoulder, he watched his target spin to the right and fall to the ground. All work stopped and there were no other targets available. Was it a kill or not? Taki never knew on that particular shot. But it was one officer that would not fight today. He scrambled back to the command area and reported what he had seen to his superiors. It was time to attack, but where was III/124? He was sent towards the Lunga River to find them.
Kawaguchi had set 2000 as the jump-off time of the attack across the ridge, but only I/124 was present. III/124 (except for Taki, the scout) along with II/4 arrived at the jump-off point two hours late. The three battalions, over 2,500 strong, lurched forward only to lose their sense of direction and nearly miss the ridge. They slewed into the swampy lowland area between the edge of the jungle and the ridge.32 The units broke down into smaller ones, then they scattered and some became intermingled, all this working together to wreak havoc on the command and control effort. It was to be small groups of infantrymen against a thin line of Marines and the jungle.
As Taki caught up with his unit, it met I/124 on the march and the two soon became mixed together. Finally I/124 was ordered to the west side of the Lunga River so the two could be separated. But now it was only an hour before sun-up, much too late for a night attack. III/124, finally separated from I/124, continued forward until it hit the enemy defence line but could not exploit an initial opportunity. Two of its officers were killed, which left the battalion without direction. Some of the men had discovered gaps in the enemy line and raced through them with fixed bayonets, shooting from the hip as they ran. But once within the line, they became confused without leadership and made a careful withdrawal.33
The rumour mill had it that Colonel Oka’s march eastward had failed to meet orders and, as a result, the enemy perimeter was attacked from one side rather than three, as planned. On 13 September, Oka requested via radio that Kawaguchi delay the jump-off time to enable his men to reach a position to attack from the south-west. An irate General Kawaguchi had suffered all the delays he would tolerate and he ordered the decisive assault to begin at 2200. During the day, bombs rained all along the ridge as the Imperial Army Air Force supported the infantry. But the concentration of bombs served to telegraph to the defenders exactly where the Japanese infantry attack would occur. The defensive positions were re-set 200 metres to the rear to improve the position and confuse the attackers.34
In spite of Kawaguchi’s orders, I/124 began its attack at 1830 and struck the defence 500 metres east of the Lunga River and south of the ridge. By 2100, enemy artillery, previously ranged, struck the attackers and ‘walked’ to within 200 metres of the lines. The 1st Battalion commander was killed. Even so, by 2230, the main force had hit the ridge. Mortar fire from the Japanese side began to rain down on the battlefield; in response enemy grenades were rolled down the hill into gathering areas for the attackers. Finally the red flare went up, signalling the general attack. Moving at a crouch, with fixed bayonets, they charged with screams of ‘Banzai!’, head long into the line of rifle and machine-gun fire.
II/4’s 5th and 7th Companies struck on the edge of the ridge. 7th Company reached the north-east side of the ridge and commanders committed the remaining fifty or sixty soldiers of the 6th Company to press on even after their commanding officer went down wounded. They arrived at the west edge of the small fighter airstrip at 0530, but were stopped by the defenders there.
Kawaguchi’s reserve battalion (III/124) never got into the action, but might have won the day had it been involved. They were lost in the jungle and leaderless until at 1930 they decided to strike out with a junior officer in charge. By the time they reached the battle lines, it was essentially over – it was dawn.35
The attack abated with the sunrise, but small groups of both sides exchanged fire frequently as they patrolled their fronts. Taki seized the opportunity to practise his craft, taking numerous shots from between 150 and 300 metres as he moved constantly after each shot. He believed he scored twelve hits – a good day indeed. But the overall verdict on the attack was – in a word – defeat.
On 14 September, Kawaguchi ordered a withdrawal across the Matanikau River. During the days spent on the march westward across the jagged foothills of the mountains, both the jungle and hunger began to pose a threat to his troops. Those who could walk supplemented their meagre diet with betel nuts, snails and other vegetation harvested along the way. The lucky ones found killing fish with hand grenades beneficial.36 The wounded were carried by four men, a fifth man carrying the gear of the other four. These five were followed by five more who would resume carrying the casualty when the first group needed a rest or could not continue. Some wounded died as the rough handling of the litters opened wounds already infested with maggots. As men marched on, weapons fell by the wayside as the strength to carry them waned. Heavy weapons first, then helmets and rifles. They finally reached Kokumbona at 1400 on 19 August.37
Using the next ten days to re-structure, re-supply and receive reinforcements, Kawaguchi made plans for his next attack while organizing his unit for defence. II/124 and III/124 were ordered to hold the high ground along the coast, the expected route of enemy attack. Taki was assigned as a scout for this group and established his post well ahead of the battalions.38 Orders to seize the east bank of the Matanikau River were finalized, so the now-present artillery pieces could be sighted in there. This did not fit within Kawaguchi’s previous plan.39
On 27 September, the enemy approached the one-log bridge via the upper Matanikau’s east bank and were engaged by the 12th Company, which was supported by mortars from the west bank. Meanwhile, 9th Company attacked across the sandbar at the mouth of the river into the teeth of murderous fire from a battalion of Marines. At 1330, the attack was renewed but again repelled. The enemy reached the rear of the attacking force by barging three companies of Marines to land on a beach west of Point Cruz. They trudged inland 500 metres to the first ridge line. Colonel Oka ordered II/124, which was located west of the Marine landing site, to attack the enemy rear. Oka believed that the enemy were trapped near the beach and issued orders to destroy them.
II/124 moved farther west and left the destruction of the stranded Marines to the 8th Company. A bitter hand-to-hand battle was fought in the attempt, but shelling from enemy ships caused the 8th Company to break off the attack, a move which enabled the trapped Marines to be evacuated via barge.40
On 3 October, Lieutenant General Masao Maruyama, commander of the 2nd Division, landed to take command of all forces on the island and began reinforcing and re-supplying the garrison using what the Imperial Navy called the ‘Ant Trans port’, a group of ships dedicated to supporting the troops on the island. Between 1 and 7 October, some 6,000 men, 51 tons of provisions, seven artillery pieces and tons of ammunition were landed at Tassafaronga. Taki could now count on at least one meal a day, meagre though it was.41
At 1000 the enemy made contact with III/4, 500 metres east of the Matanikau River, along the coast road (the Government Track), and they managed to wrest control of 500 metres of the east river bank from II/4. The 3rd Company gave ground grudgingly even as they endured point-blank fire from the Marine 75-mm pack howitzers, but they held the west bank. During the night of 7–8 October, the enemy feinted several attacks at the mouth of the Matanikau to draw attention away from two other enemy units making their way north along the river. These enemy units attacked and drove the 3rd Company towards the coast. They were now trapped with their backs to the river.
Rain, torrential rain, provided some relief from the attack. Footing in the jungle, dicey at best, became terrible with men and equipment slipping and sliding off trails and into the under-brush; but it bought time for the force on the Matanikau. About sundown, the 3rd Company attempted to break out of the pocket and cross the sandbar. The smoke from the smoke grenades intended to hide their move was pressed close to the deck by the rain-cooled air and provided little concealment as they struck the enemy line. Barbed wire broke the onrush of the attackers and it became a confused, brutal, fierce, hand-to-hand fight. Precious few of the 3rd Company soldiers made it across the river.42
To a soldier of Taki’s rank, the days and nights were becoming irrelevant. His training had emphasized night attacks and surprise. Now his unit was experiencing night attacks and surprise from the enemy. He continued his assigned role as a scout and added to his kill list at every opportunity. At last estimate, he thought had killed 3 officers, 11 NCOs and at least 15 other enemy soldiers. But he was never sure exactly how many. The Imperial Japanese Army was now in retreat west-wards and because of their lack of training in defensive formations, they were building up defensive sites as they thought best.
On 10 October another new commander arrived in the person of General Hyakutake, commander of the Seventeenth Army, who bore orders from Army HQ, orders which he issued on 15 October. The troops had not had sufficient time to recover from illness, wounds and hunger, yet orders were orders. Colonel Ichiki’s orders always stressed simplicity, but the new set of orders laid out a complicated advance against the enemy. And in jungle warfare, complex battle plans very often went awry.
The plan was designed to attack the Marines from all directions, making them spread their forces across a wide battle-front. The plan was fashioned as follows:
(1) Major General Tadashi Sumioshi, commanding the artillery of the Seventeenth Army, would take the big guns down the coast as a diversionary move, with five infantry battalions attached.
(2) I/228 and a company of engineers would land at Koli Point at 0200 on X-Day (the attack date to be decided) because air intelligence had informed Hyakutake that the Marines were building a new airstrip near there.
(3) The Sendai (2nd) Division, commanded by Major General Masao Maruyama (to which Hyakutake would attach his staff and headquarters), would march across the foothills of the little mountain (now called Mount Austen) and follow the Maruyama Road.43 It would then turn northwards towards the airfield. It was hard jungle marching through unmapped territory. The advantage was that neither natives nor enemy scouts would likely detect their advance.
(4) A jungle march commanded by Major General Yumio Nasu would lead to a turn north down the Lunga’s east bank to the airstrip. The core element of his force was the balance of 29th Infantry Regiment.
(5) The right wing would be a force under Major General Kiyotaki Kawaguchi. It included the 230th Infantry Regiment with III/124 filling in for III/130.
(6) General Maruyama would control the 16th Regiment as the division reserve.
The first units left the encampment on 16 October with each man carrying ammunition, an artillery round and twelve days’ rations, plus his personal weapons and gear. The artillerymen disassembled their guns and had to carry them piecemeal on the march. They marched by compass, in straight lines over land, unable to avoid difficult terrain. It was not until two days later, 18 October, that the tail end of the column finally saddled up and left the encampment. The head of the 30-kilometre-long column had already crossed the Lunga.44 On 20 October General Maruyama miscalculated his end-of-march position. He thought he was but 7 kilometres from the airfield, but in reality it was twice that distance.
On the coast, Sumioshi divided his force, sending Colonel Oka with the 124th Infantry Regiment (less 3rd Battalion) south along the west bank of the Matanikau to the One Log Bridge. On the signal, he would attack north along the east bank of the Matanikau River, flanking the enemy line. Sumioshi, leading the northern segment of his divided force himself, remained on the coast with III/4, along with Colonel Nakagama, who commanded I/4 and II/4 plus a tank company.
On the opposite flank, based on new aerial photographs, General Kawaguchi requested permission to re-locate the point of his attack farther east. Maruyama refused and Kawaguchi was relieved of his command. He was replaced by the commander of the 230th Infantry Regiment, Colonel Shoji. The western component’s orders to strike the enemy from south-east of the Lunga stood even after Shoji objected to Kawaguchi’s relief as ‘not the way of the samurai’.45
Casting objections aside, Maruyama ordered the final advance to begin at 1800 on 22 October. The army cautiously moved forward towards the enemy lines, preceded by Taki and a host of other scouts. Though the approach was difficult, all units proceeded towards their assigned positions and prepared for the attack. In fact, on 22 October, Oka’s group, attempting to flank the enemy, could advance only about a kilometre due to the jungle-covered, deep ravines and small, muddy tributary streams that crossed their route. Oka lost track of two of his three rifle battalions, which had unnecessarily marched farther east but he indicated he would be prepared to attack at 1500 the next day.46
For his part Taki was sent forward to scout the enemy defences. He reported that there were small enemy patrols out, apparently trying to locate Maruyama’s forces.
X-Day was set for 23 October. Soldiers were ordered to drop their packs and move on the enemy perimeter. The scouts sent out on 22 October had reported only heavy jungle in every direction. But after marching in, around, through, and over the jungle trails to the jumping-off point, troops were on the verge of exhaustion and hardly ready for a frontal assault. Because the army was not ready for attack, X-Day was re-set for 24 October.
The jungle created more than marching problems. Command and control of separated forces is difficult under the best of circum stances. Here, the terrain, weather and obstacles combined to disorganize the force approaching the airfield. Many of the scouts sent out failed to return, being lost in the trackless jungle or killed by enemy fire. On the west flank Sumioshi was unable to pass on the order delaying that attack by a day.
However, the uncoordinated approach did allow the nine tanks to move within 200 metres of the enemy positions on the coast. Their noisy advance was unheard by the enemy due to the sporadic artillery fire aimed at the perimeter. But II/4 didn’t start forward until 1700 on the 23rd which made the tanks wait. At dusk the first four tanks began to roll forward, but they were stopped by 37-mm anti-tank gunfire. A second wave of five tanks then crawled forward and into the battle zone. Even though one tank broke through the barbed wire and into the enemy lines, it was soon disabled and abandoned. All nine tanks were destroyed and of the 41 tank crew members in the attack, only 17 survived, 10 of them unwounded.47
The battle site’s coordinates were well-known to the American artillery and, once the battle began, the attackers were pummelled with over 6,000 rounds, ranging up and down the Japanese line. At 2100, it began to rain and, within an hour, the attack faltered. By 0115 on 24 October all was quiet along the Matanikau.48
The main attack on Henderson Field from the south was now set for 1900 on 24 October. At 1600 a torrential rainstorm swept across the island making the Japanese advance even more difficult. But, at 2100, the skies cleared and revealed a beautiful star-lit night. Taki and four other scouts were sent out to locate the barbed wire along the enemy lines. This was not a killing mission, so Taki elected to leave his rifle behind. Crawling slowly under the black night sky, he got close enough to hear the talking (and snoring) of the Marines in holes along the ridge. Some 30 metres in front of them lay the strung barbed wire. Empty ration cans, each holding a few pebbles, so as to rattle if touched, hung at intervals along its length. These served as crude early warning signals. Slowly, he slid backward in the cogon grass until the enemy were no longer able to see him. Rising, and moving in a crouch, he made his way back to report what he had seen.
At 0030 on 25 October an uncoordinated attack opened on the American line. At 0115 the 9th Company charged the machine-gun emplacements in their front and within five minutes all were killed. By 0215, enemy artillery were shelling along the attack route, especially on the path of the left wing of the attackers. They were caught in a depression and quickly came to the conclusion that to stay there was to die; and to run was to risk being lost in the jungle. Many chose to die rather than run.49 Only one small unit made it into the enemy lines and briefly established a salient of 100 by 150 metres. Counterattacking Marines killed the little group and managed to capture three Nambu machine guns as well as re-capture two U.S. machine guns. Thirty-seven Imperial Japanese soldiers lay dead within that small perimeter.50
A further series of desperate attacks the next night proved equally futile and it became clear to the Japanese commanders that the attack had failed. Thus began a fighting retreat westwards to the north-west coast of the island. The troops suffered from exhaustion, malnutrition, disease and untended wounds, but on they marched. Diary entries reflect the difficulty of the march:
October 27 . . . [after three days’ march] have only one tiny teaspoon of salt per day and a palmful of rice porridge.
October 30 . . . food captures the mind . . . I try to think of other things, but can’t.51
As they marched west, fighting to their rear, small groups of lost soldiers filtered out of the jungle and joined them. Their condition was equal to, or worse than, their comrades already on the march. They suffered from the effects of leeches, mosquitoes and scorpions plus the never-ending dampness of the jungle floor. Some had managed to eke out their existence eating vegetation or fish, but all were dangerously mal nourished.
By 18 December, prospects for a starving soldier were measured in a different, and ghastly way. Life expectancy, according to one diarist, was:
Those who can stand – 30 days.
Those who can sit – 3 weeks.
Those who cannot sit up – 1 week.
Those who urinate lying down – 3 days.
Those who have stopped speaking – 2 days.
Those who have stopped blinking – tomorrow.
As the days wore on, fighting became disorganized and desperate – not really defence. There was a single exception with which Taki allied himself. Units mattered little any longer, so it was his decision to attach himself to the group led by Major Takeyoshi Inagaki.
Inagaki had created the most strongly defendable position on the island in an area he called ‘Gifu’, after a prefecture on the home island of Honshu. It sat west of the top of Mount Austen between two hills. It held some forty-five crude but effective pillboxes placed in a horseshoe shape, the open end facing west between the two hills. The structures were dug into the ground, lined with logs then reinforced with dirt inside and out. Walls were two logs thick, roofs, three, since coconut wood was easily penetrated by gunfire. Only a direct hit from a 105-mm howitzer could damage these structures.
Each pillbox held one or two Nambu machine guns and two or three riflemen. The placement of the pillboxes enabled them to provide mutually supporting fire. Out in front of the main line, Inagaki placed positions at the bases of the tall banyan and mahogany trees for individual riflemen and light machine gunners. They numbered about 500 in their ‘Alamo’ fortress. Gifu was also hard to detect. In the jungle, killing ranges rarely exceeded 30 metres, but at the Gifu, an enemy soldier could get within a very few metres of an embrasure without seeing it.52
On several occasions, Inagaki sent Taki out behind enemy lines to wreak havoc with his sniping. Working his way beyond the forward company of attackers, he located its headquarters area and methodically began to place one enemy soldier at a time into the cross hairs of his telescope. His kill-shots created fear and confusion among the staff, giving Taki a rare reason to smile. Stealthily returning to Gifu after dark, he and his fellow scouts traded stories of their ‘hunting trips’.
On 25 December, a battalion of enemy forces approached Gifu but was driven back by fire. The mission of these U.S. Army troops (nearly all Marines had left the island by 15 December) was to assault and occupy Mount Austen (a series of hills, not just a single mountain) near Gifu. It took until 1 January for the enemy to take Austen. And on that day, Inagaki distributed the last rations to his troops – two biscuits and a boiled sweet per man.
On 16 January, after receiving permission, preparations to leave the island began immediately. The troops were triaged for departure – first the wounded, then the sick, then the starving, then able-bodied would board the ships when they arrived. They would wait until 2240 on 1 February 1943 before ships finally arrived offshore at Cape Esperance. At 2400, launches were sent shoreward to begin the evacuation.53
By 0153 the last soldier boarded at Kamimbo and, by 0158, at Cape Esperance. There remained 1,270 men at Cape Esperance and another 300 at Kamimbo. Admiral Koyanagi, aboard one of the rescue ships, noted:
[soldiers] wore only the remains of clothes so soiled their physical deterioration was extreme. Probably they were happy but showed no expression. All had dengue or malaria [and] their diarrhoea sent them to the heads [toilets]. Their digestive organs were so completely destroyed [we] couldn’t give them good food, only porridge.54
Even the inscrutable Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was horrified by a medical report on the rescue that read:
[The men] were so undernourished that their beards, nails and hair had all stopped growing, their joints looked pitifully large. Their buttocks were so emaciated that their anuses were completely exposed, and on the destroyers that picked them up they suffered from constant and uncontrolled diarrhoea.55
The majority of the pitiful force was safe aboard the Imperial Navy ships, but there were more soldiers to save. The remaining men were organized into a defensive force to protect the evacuation. It was a hotch-potch of men from a variety of units including the last few survivors of Taki’s own Ichiki Detachment. The Americans limited their actions to patrols which gave the troops awaiting rescue a break from the continuous tension.
On 4 February, in preparation for final evacuation, Colonel Matsuda, now senior commander on the island, ordered a detachment of 128 men to the east bank of the Segilau River as a rearguard. He also ordered that an additional rearguard of seventy men be posted just west of the Bonegi River and the rest of the command then move to Maravovo to prepare for evacuation. After a heated discussion of how and who should comprise the rearguard, the decision was taken to leave only those who could not walk at the Bonegi River and take the ambulatory wounded to the Segilau at 1500. Those able to fire a weapon were asked to delay the enemy as long as possible, and then kill themselves before being captured. Each soldier in that situation was given two tablets of mercury bichloride, which would bring a sure, but excruciatingly painful death. Other soldiers were ordered to kill those who could not fire their weapons.
This order, Taki could not understand. These men had braved enemy fire, had been seriously wounded, and endured days being carried in litters across the trackless jungle. Now with wounds infested with maggots, and in dire need of medical attention, they were simply shot? And by his own NCOs! It was all too much for him. He turned away in disgust and sorrow. Is this what would happen to him?56
A second rescue convoy arrived on the night of 4 February and another 3,921 troops were taken aboard, bound for Bougain ville. One skeleton of a man who had cared for and carried his friend aboard now lay beside him on the deck of the ship. His friend was dead, but his insistent companion refused to accept that fact.
Now Colonel Matsuda concerned himself with his rearguard – how to extricate them? Another sea rescue was risky, but ultimately decided upon as the only viable option. With the U.S. Army forces inching westward towards the last perimeter, the remaining soldiers could hear the artillery rounds pounding Maravovo. And there were reports of machine-gun fire at the Segilau to concern the command further. Finally, at sundown, with twenty-six craft still seaworthy, Matsuda re-organized the troops into four groups of 500 each. Between 2130 and 2215 the remaining troops were embarked.57
Except for one lone sniper.
At 0030 on 8 February 1943, the word was passed that all the remaining troops were embarked. To fulfill Hashimoto’s pledge never to abandon them, the rescue boats sailed up and down the shore, calling out for any they might have missed.58 Taki heard the calls and for a moment was tempted to answer. But he didn’t. Before the others left, he had a friend pull him up into his palm tree hide. It was easy. He now weighed less than 40 kilograms. Wracked with malaria and dysentery, he had not had a meal in weeks. But he was angry and wanted to avenge the deaths of his friends and of those wounded men who were killed by his own NCOs. He wanted to honour his family and the Emperor by dying like a warrior. So he chose to remain ashore to satisfy those yearnings.
*
With his thoughts returning to the present, he is aware of the pain caused by the bench-like seat of his hide. With the seat’s pulley-supported rope tied at the bottom of the tree trunk, he waits – patiently, silently, motionless – intent on his mission. The waiting alone is especially difficult when he must remain silent and unmoving for what may be a very long time. Taki’s muscles cramp, and nerve endings cry out for relief; yet he remains still and silent. And, as he waits, he is acutely aware of how much his body has endured even when his brain has told him he can do no more. His fatigue seems to sharpen rather than dull his senses of sight and sound. He checks his stock of ammunition and now has but one round left.
He will make it count.
9 February 1943. He has sat in the tree all night, awaiting the arrival of enemy forces. As the lead elements of the 1st Battalion, 161st Infantry Regiment, Americal Division,59 approach, Taki takes careful aim at the lieutenant with the unit. He squeezes the trigger to fire his last round while keeping the man’s face in his scope lens. The Arisaka bucks once again and, through his telescope, Taki watches the officer’s head explode in a spray of red and grey.
Even though he has no more ammunition, Taki instinctively pulls the bolt of his rifle to the rear. He can hear the shouts of enemy voices and sees them pointing towards his tree hide.
The world seems to slow down and things can be carefully observed as the American .30-calibre round speeds towards his head. He can almost see it as it enters his skull. He does not feel the fall from the tree. His long walk to a short life is over.
References
Books
Leo J. Daugherty III, Fighting Techniques of the Japanese Infantryman 1941–45: T raining, Techniques and Weapons (MBI Publishing, 2002)
R. B. Frank, Guadalcanal, The Definitive Account (Penguin, 1992)
B. McCoy, Japanese Army Snipers, World War Two (e-book available through www.quikmaneuvers.com, 2008)
Gary Nila and Robert A. Rolfe, Japanese Special Naval Landing Forces: Uniforms and Equipment 1932–45 (Osprey, 2006)
G. L. Rottman, Japanese Infantryman 1937–45: Sword of the Empire (Osprey, 2005)
P. R. Senich, U.S. Marine Corps Scout-Sniper, World War II and Korea (Paladin Press, 1993)
Internet sources
www.ww2db.com – a database for Second World War battles, units, personnel, ships and photographs
Wikipedia article, ‘Battle of Guadalcanal’, accessed January 2011 www.lonesentry.com
Notes
1. A fictitious name. The character is used to illustrate the facts of the Second World War in the South Pacific Theater of Operations. According to Japanese sources, few, if any, Japanese snipers survived. This story is based on facts gleaned from indicated references and insofar as possible, describes historical events.
2. Rottman, pp. 30–1.
3. Rottman, p. 26.
4. Rottman, p. 27.
5. Rottman, p. 25 et seq.
6. Rottman, p. 1. Daugherty, p. 21
7. Wikipedia article, ‘Type 38 rifle’, accessed January 2011.
8. Senich, U.S. Marine Scout Snipers World War Two and Korea.
9. Senich, pp. 188–9.
10. McCoy, Japanese Army Snipers World War Two, chap. 5.
11. Tactical and Technical T rends, Oct. 1943, www.lonesentry.com.
12. Frank, pp. 144, 145.
13. Frank, p. 143.
14. Frank, p. 146.
15. Frank, p. 147.
16. Frank, p. 148.
17. Frank, p. 149.
18. Frank, p. 149.
19. Frank, p. 158.
20. Frank, p. 156.
21. Frank, p. 156.
22. Frank, p. 158.
23. Frank, p. 203.
24. Frank, p. 201.
25. Frank, p. 205.
26. Frank, p. 213.
27. Frank, p. 218.
28. Frank, p. 220.
29. Frank, p. 224.
30. Frank, p. 232.
31. Frank, p. 223.
32. Frank, p. 231.
33. Frank, p. 232.
34. Frank, p. 235.
35. Frank, p. 241.
36. Frank, p. 248.
37. Frank, p. 246.
38. Frank, p. 269.
39. Frank, p. 270.
40. Frank, p. 273.
41. Frank, pp. 275–86.
42. Frank, p. 287.
43. Frank, pp. 340–1.
44. Frank, p. 341.
45. Frank, p. 342.
46. Frank, p. 349.
47. Frank, p. 350.
48. Frank, p. 352.
49. Frank, p. 355.
50. Frank, p. 356.
51. Frank, p. 407.
52. Frank, p. 532.
53. Frank, p. 587.
54. Frank, p. 588.
55. Frank, p. 588.
56. Frank, p. 590.
57. Frank, p. 594.
58. Frank, p. 596.
59. Made up of Ameri-can Army troops previously stationed on New Cal-edonia.