Filling an essential gap in the understanding of warfare during World War II, author Donald E. Anderson describes life as a young enlisted man in Hawaii prior to the bombing of Pearl Harbor when he had only six months left in his tour. In Combat Infantry, he provides an emotional and firsthand account of the Pearl Harbor bombing and his next four years of service as he fought disease and injury, spending time in New Caledonia and New Zealand. A member of the 35th Regiment, 25th Division, he captures in vivid detail the fighting in the jungles of Guadalcanal and later, five months of continuous combat on the island of Luzon in the Philippines. Anderson describes the grueling combats and deprivations faced by army infantrymen to liberate the islands. Anderson tells of a soldier's world that was confined to muddy foxholes, a dustclouded stretch of mined road, or a rocky, fog-shrouded mountain ridge where fear and fatigue took its toll. In Combat Infantry, he pays tribute to those who were killed in action. They are not just names carved on a stone monument, but living, breathing souls who gave their lives for freedom.

Combat Infantry

A Soldier's StoryBy Donald E. Anderson D.E. Anderson Jr.

Trafford Publishing

Copyright © 2011 Donald E. Anderson and D.E. Anderson Jr.
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4269-6877-8

Contents

Foreword.................................................ixAcknowledgments..........................................xiii1. Rising Sun............................................12. To the Shores of Paradise.............................213. The 'Canal............................................394. Into the Green Hell...................................515. Devil's Den...........................................776. Dust to Dust..........................................897. Jungle Juice, Typhoons and Cigars.....................958. Deliverance...........................................1139. Warriors Go Forth.....................................13310. Valley of Shadows....................................14911. In the Midst of Lions................................17312. Blood and Steel......................................19313. Victory at the Quarter-Moon..........................21114. Whirlwind............................................21715. Attrition............................................23516. Unsung...............................................24317. The Siege of Balete Pass.............................25718. Fire from the Heavens................................27319. Last Journey.........................................28520. New Beginning........................................301Epilogue.................................................305

Chapter One

Rising Sun

She emerged from the cloud layer and swept past us and over the lagoon, a magnificent white flying boat. Banking slightly, her engines changed pitch as the pilots brought her in for a landing on the blue-grey water.

We anxiously waited; the only sounds were the idling engines, the lapping of waves against the low concrete seawall and the scuffing of the watchers' shoes as they snuffed out cigarettes that joined a carpet of others. The sense of foreboding was as thick as the clouds blanketing the island's rim and the surrounding ocean.

We impatiently crowded the dock, as fledgling chicks might await their mother, clamoring to receive the first morsels, snapping them up with expectation of more. Our waiting band of soldiers and sailors sought valuable global news. On this day, there was none.

The Philippine Clipper was one of three flying boats with passenger routes between the West Coast of the United States and the Pacific Islands: Pearl Harbor in Oahu, Hawaii, Wake Island to the west of the Hawaiian Islands and on to the Philippines.

In July 1941, we had been training and preparing for a possible conflict with Japan, but when and where? There was never enough news or information to be had. Of course, everyone had an opinion or knew the latest "straight dope" from on high. Rife with rumor and wild speculation, these tidbits were mostly guesswork pieced together from other speculation, embellished as it made the rounds.

Our outfit, the 25th Infantry Division, stationed at Schofield Barracks outside Honolulu would be facing the Japanese somewhere in the vast Pacific.

As a driver for my company commander, I had embarked on an extensive survey of our fighting positions with Captain James Dalton. We sat eating lunch in silence, high on a ridge, overlooking Honolulu and the naval base at Pearl Harbor. I asked him the question that had been gnawing at me for months.

"Sir, are we going to war with Japan?"

He looked me in the eye and nodded, sadness clouding his face.

"Yes, there's no way around it."

"When, do you think?" I asked, dreading an answer.

"By Christmas. Intelligence reports that Germany is trying twenty-four hours a day to convince Japan to enter the war. The War Department wants to reinforce all our positions in the Pacific but the people in Congress don't want to offend the Japanese."

He turned away and gazed out over the vast, bustling expanse of Pearl Harbor.

We had no way of knowing that the plans for the destruction of our fleet at Pearl Harbor were already under way by the Japanese. They knew the only way to possibly have a chance of winning the coming conflict was to cripple our fleet before it sailed out to meet their invasion forces in the Pacific. A simultaneous strike on the Philippines, Guam, Wake and Hawaii would not only divide our forces, but without a fleet to escort troop convoys, reinforcement would not be possible.

The first week of August, we went on full alert, assigned to roving patrols with half-ton Chevy pick-up trucks. There was a driver and noncom in front, and four armed men in the back with a pedestal-mounted 30 caliber machine gun. Everyone carried live rounds. We drove four hours on, four hours off, around the clock, usually out in the boonies.

We stopped and checked every bridge and culvert. At night, we used paver lanterns to check the superstructures for explosives and communication junction boxes in remote areas. To prevent any observers from plotting our movements, we constantly changed our patrol patterns. This lasted for twelve weeks.

In November, we were suddenly taken off alert status and our weapons and ammunition were locked up. Everything reverted back to normal.

Two weeks later we had a full dress parade for the Japanese Emissary, Saburo Kurusu. He was on his way to Washington to confer with our government concerning the growing tensions between the United States and Japan. Stopping off at Hawaii, he was given a first-hand look at our troops and weapons. Perhaps our leaders considered this a show of strength to impress Japan with a parade of power. With war rumors thicker than ever, this show didn't go over very well with the troops: a violation of the old street fighter's adage; never lead with your chin.

Following the parade, I was given two weeks leave to go to the big island of Hawaii, where Kilowea military rest camp was located. It was great to get a real break from the grinding rotation on Oahu.

The camp was built on the slopes of the Mauna Loa Mountains. We visited the observatory and were shown the seismograph that measured tremors inside the volcano. We hiked over the mountains and visited the town of Hilo, looking much like an old western frontier town. When the weather was overcast and drizzling, we went to a café and enjoyed hot buttered rum with cinnamon sticks, and just sat around shooting the breeze. There really wasn't much else to do. I guess that's why it was called a "rest camp."

It seemed as if I'd only been there a few days when it was already time to return to Schofield Barracks, just in time for Thanksgiving dinner. That Sunday, November 30, our outfit was invited to have lunch aboard the battleship Arizona at Pearl Harbor. As an inter-service exchange program, some of her sailors visited Schofield Barracks at the same time.

The Arizona's sailors gave us a guided tour of the entire ship. We walked for what seemed like miles through hatches, down corridors, up and down ladders, in and out of the massive gun turrets—everything sparkling, gleaming, polished and spotless. It was a magnificent ship and they loved her. After she was lost in the attack, I often thought about all the men who had treated us so warmly. In a few days most of them would be killed and entombed forever when the ship was hit and sunk in the attack.

The following week was a normal routine: no...