拯救飞行员--布干维尔岛战役之插曲2

胸口碎大石

Return to Friendly Lines – Chapter 3: The Aviator


1500 hrs, Solomon Sea, near Bougainville, 5 November 1943:

1stLt Mike Thomas of VMF-121 is attempting to fly his damaged Corsair back to a friendly airfield on Vella Lavella or Munda. He was part of a detachment that AirSols had directed fly fighter escort for bombers making a run on the Japanese fortress of Rabaul on the eastern tip of New Britain. While en route, the force was attacked by Zeroes, most likely out of Bougainville’s northern fields or New Ireland. Reacting aggressively, the flying Leathernecks fought off the attack, but Thomas found that he had taken some hits that had severed the lines controlling his port (left) aileron and left him unable to jettison the unwieldy external fuel tanks. Unable to steer properly, his detachment commander deemed him useless over Rabaul, and ordered him to make his way back to the nearest friendly field - alone…

“Just keep this heading and keep Bougainville off to the left. I’ll be within the air cover over Empress Augusta Bay soon. After that, it’s just a little farther to Vella or Munda…d$#@! This baby is steering worse than that bus full of Navy nurses that I crashed into the club on Espiritu Santo…”






A Japanese patrol has been holding in the cloud cover just northwest of the Allied landing area at Empress Augusta Bay awaiting a target of opportunity. They spy the wounded Corsair like a pack of wolves that has found a wounded elk…

“ahhshhh: 106 and 108 – hold this course steady and cover my attack. This Gaijin will be my victory, ahhshhh.”, came the short his over the Patrol’s radio net.

“ahhshh: Hai, Lieutenant-san. ahhssh.” came the hollow reply.






Lieutenant Hiroyoshi Tomuro put the nose of his Zero down and descended, and banked left to line up on his injured prey.

“Good, he has not seen my approach.” thought Tomuro, as he lined up behind Thomas’ corsair.






The Zero bucked in the turbulent air as Tomuro opened up with his two 20mm cannons.






The burst of flame and black smoke told Lt. Tomuro that he had dealt his prey a mortal wound, as he overtook Thomas.

“What the @$#& – Japs!” cried Thomas, as the first 20mm tracers shells raced past his cockpit. He tried to maneuver to no avail; it was like fighting with both hands and one leg tied behind his back. The 20mm rounds raked his fuselage, and all he could see in front of him was smoke and flame.

Lt Thomas’ cockpit was rapidly filling with smoke. He opened the canopy, trying to clear the smoke out. The cockpit had not been hit, but he wondered if that would matter…






It was useless. Despite the open canopy, the cockpit continued to fill with smoke. He could see nothing.






Thomas faced the decision that every pilot dreaded, and he knew it was time – he had to bail out.

With the coral islets dotting the Solomon Sea below like stars in the night sky, Thomas’ corsair shot through the air like a fiery comet as he pushed himself up, out of the cockpit, and prepared to jump.






As the fire grew more intense, he leapt into thin air.






It was like nothing he had ever experienced. The smoke had disoriented him. All he knew was that he was falling through the sky with an endless tropical sea below and the enormous broken equatorial thunder clouds overhead.

A voice in the back of his head screamed “open the chute!!!” Thomas reached down as the wind whipped around him and found the trapezoidal metal handle. He paused to look back and saw that his corsair had become engulfed in flame as the external fuel tanks had finally caught fire, and pulled hard with one swift jerk.







With a loud snap, Thomas was pulled up sharply and found himself floating over the isle dotted Solomon Sea. “Now what?” thought Thomas. He knew “The Slot”, that strip of water that extended from Bougainville through the Solomon chain to Guadalcanal, was notoriously shark infested, but if he landed on one of the jungle covered islands, then what? Be broken to bits crashing through the triple canopy? Get eaten alive by a python or a tiger, or even cannibals? Taken prisoner by the Japs? None of the possibilities were especially cheery.






Despite all that ran through his mind as he floated to earth, Thomas decided to take his chances on land. He steered the chute toward the big island: “That must be Bougainville.”

胸口碎大石

Things seemed to speed up as he descended. The trees were coming up faster…






…and faster.






All became a green blur..

He plunged through the treetops, as the branches whipped and smacked him…






Then all was black…







Return to Friendly Lines – Chapter 4: The Jungle


1610 hrs, Numa Numa Trail, Bougainville jungle, 5 November 1943: An advance patrol from a company of the 23rd Infantry Regiment, which is moving west along the Numa Numa Trail to join the regiment, conducts reconnaissance ahead of the main body…

The patrol moved ever so slowly, seemingly part of the undergrowth itself. Corporal Kimura, had inspected his men’s camouflage with care prior to leaving the bivouac at dawn. The main body would be an hour behind them.






They had descended that morning from the island’s mountainous spine into the lowland jungle.







It was late afternoon, but Kimura estimated that they had only traveled five miles. The sun trickled through holes in the jungle canopy, a rare treat.

The patrol came to a tree that had fallen across the trail. Corporal Kimura signaled a halt. It would be dark soon, he must report back to the main body. All was clear, so far. They had not encountered any Gaijin on their march across the island, but Kimura was not too concerned. He had already heard reports that the main assault was on Choiseul to the south. This was a diversionary landing, and would be driven back into the sea with little delay.







Private, first class Genji automatically moved to cover the trail with his Type 96 LMG, as he had done so many times throughout the Solomons campaign.







Sighting down the trail, he was prepared to lay the necessary covering fire that his fellow soldiers would need to allow them to rejoin the company and alert it to any approaching Gaijin. These men were veterans of New Georgia; they new the drill.

胸口碎大石

CRACK! SNAP! CRASH! WACK! RIP! SNAP!

The soldiers all immediately looked to their right front, startled by the break in the jungle’s silence. The thrashing sound was quickly drowned out by the thunderous noise of thousand of flapping wings. Whatever had made the noise had scared the jungle birds or bats or both. Then all was silent.







Corporal Kimura immediately hissed, “Superior Private Minase to take two men and see what made the noise. We cannot make our report to Captain Ichijo without knowing what is out there. Genji and I will cover the trail.”

“Hai, Corporal-san!”, Came Minase’s hissed reply.






Not far away, two others that had also descended that morning from the island’s mountainous spine into the lowland jungle, moved warily through the jungle. Leftenant Van der Haanks and Constable Styles of the Solomon Island Defense Force had been moving southeast along the islands spine for the past couple of days, since their Coastwatcher lookout station had been bombed by the Japs. They had followed a game trail all day, which Styles believed would intersect the Numa Numa Trail and ultimately lead them to the Yanks.

Constable Styles carefully watched their rear as Van der Haanks led the way. They new they were close and there would be Jap patrols about.







They made a brief halt for water. “Leftenant, when we come to the trail, we should march parallel to it as we head west. It will not be safe to travel on it.”, whispered, Styles as he sipped his water.

“Of course, Styles, of course. Getting through their lines and not getting shot by the Yanks in the process will be tricky business, but I trust that you will guide us through.”, whispered Van der Haanks. Styles was a Solomon Islander. His bush sense was second to none, and he could move through the jungle without a sound. They had served together for almost two years now, and Van der Haanks trusted him completely. “Let’s move on, then. We’re getting close, you had better take the lead.”







CRACK! SNAP! CRASH! WACK! RIP! SNAP!

The thrashing sound was quickly drowned out by the thunderous noise of thousand of flapping wings. Then all was silent. The two immediately Coastwatchers looked up to their right: “Bloody hell!” Whispered Van der Haanks, “What do you suppose that was?”

“I don’t know Leftenant, but something fell through the trees. It could have been a forest person, but there was no shot, and they do not fall from the trees.”

“Orangutan or not, we should go and see what it is.”

The Coastwatchers moved out in the direction of the noise…







Superior Private Minase led his two men toward the area from where they thought the noise had come. As they moved through the brush, they soon saw large shreds of white silk hanging listlessly in the trees.







As they got closer, they paused. Private 2nd class Konjo signaled to Minase to look up: something else was also hanging in the trees…

Minase signaled Konjo to advance. The soldiers moved on with caution.







“Non desu ka!?” Hissed Konjo, rifle leveled at the body hanging in the trees.

“A Gaijin pilot!” exclaimed Private 2nd class Sato.







“Saito, see if he is still alive”, ordered Minase. Saito gently poked the pilot’s boot with the long bayonet of his Arisaka.

The body above Saito hung like a side of beef. Saito poked again. This time there was a slight stir.







“Ugghh…”, moaned Lt Thomas. He could here strange voices below speaking in a language that he could not understand. He thought something was poking his foot. Then all was black again….








“I will shoot him!” exclaimed Kanjo, his excitement causing his voice to rise above a whisper. “He can hang in the trees for the beetles to eat!”

Minase acted at once: “Silence, you fool!” he hissed as he grabbed Kanjo’s rifle. “I am in command. You will await my orders.” Minase knew that Sanjo hated Americans. His father had been killed by shrapnel when American planes made an unbelievable surprise raid on Tokyo (Doolittle’s Raid) almost a year and a half earlier.

“You are so anxious to kill him that you have forgotten to finish cocking your rifle. Pull yourself together and think.”








“If we take him prisoner and bring him to Captain Ichijo, he will surely reward us.” Minase went on in a low voice. “We can get out of this green hell for a while. Eat real food. Wash the jungle rot from your crotch. There will be passes to Rabaul, maybe even Singapore, Saki, Women. Do not let your hatred overtake you…There will be more Gaijin to kill.”







The Coastwatchers had heard the commotion as the Japanese soldiers heatedly debated what to do with their new found prize. Van der Haanks and Styles seized the opportunity. Silent as a shadow, Styles approached the soldier underneath the pilot, bayonet fixed to his Enfield…

胸口碎大石

“Aaargghhhh!” The Japanese gave a gurgled cry. One quick jab to the back and Styles finished him.







“Non desu ka!?!” Minase and Konjo immediately forgot the pilot hanging in the trees and turned to see what was the matter.







“Blam!” Leftenant Van der Haanks Webley revolver rang out, just as Styles’ drove his bayonet home.

“Blam!” Another shot, only a second after the first.







The three Japanese soldiers lay dead in a heap at their feet. Styles’ withdrew the long Enfield bayonet. The light cordite smoke of Van der Haanks' Webley hung in the air.







The two Coastwatchers stared up at the body hanging in the trees. “I say, Yank!” called Van der Haanks in a hushed voice. “Yank, are you alive up there?”

Lt. Thomas could hear noises, and voices calling, but they sounded strange, as if they were underwater. Then they were a little more clear, then a muffled, “Yank!”

“Aah!” Thomas awoke with a start and instinctively tried to grab for his .45. It was of little use. The pistol was buried under his life vest and parachute harness. He couldn’t reach it, and just flopped around like a broken marionette. Then, he realized that people were speaking English to him. “I’m alive.” He tentatively replied.







“Can you get yourself down, then?” asked Van der Haanks. Thomas felt like he had been beaten with a baseball bat, but he struggled with his harness trying to free himself.







He managed to get the leg straps undone, but the chest buckle was stuck. He wriggled and flopped, trying to get loose…

…and then fell to the ground in a heap. “Ouch!” exclaimed Thomas.

“Keep your voice down, Mate.” Said Van der Haanks as he reached down to help Thomas up.








“Leftenant Van der Haanks and Constable Styles, at your service.” Smiled the former Dutchman, “We’re Coastwatchers.” Van der Haanks shook Thomas’ hand.







“Lt Mike Thomas, U.S. Marine Corps – I’m a pilot.” Replied Thomas as he returned the handshake, and looked down. Thomas stopped in mid handshake when he realized than he was standing amid several dead bodies.

“You’re lucky we came along – those chaps were about to do you in…or worse.” Explained Thomas in his odd Dutch-Australian accented English. “Let’s get a move on, then. Styles, stick a Mills Bomb under one of the bodies, and let’s get out of here.”