“And leave the airfield undefended? What if they have enough ships to put men ashore to our north?”
“They cannot land there; the mangroves are too thick on the shore.”
“Mangroves? There is a beach just north of Tomo where they could put in a raiding force. Did you not read the report of the raid on Makin Island? We must hold this airfield! Now… Place Higuchi’s Company to watch the north road. Sawada is to move a thousand meters south and establish a picket line astride Route 1. Maruyama will wait here on the line, his men facing south. Chiba will hold his men in reserve. As for the Engineers, they are to take up rifles and await further orders.”
In spite of his urge to move the whole battalion south to Noumea, the Captain heard the sternness of iron in Ichiki’s tone, and knew orders when he heard them.
“Sergeant Nakamoto!”
“Hi!” The Sergeant was the HQ Runner, and always close at hand.
“Order Lieutenant Sawada to move his men out, a thousand meters to the south, and establish an outer defensive line. They will then await further orders.”
After a stiff bow and salute, Sergeant Kiyoshi Nakamoto was off at a run. The Colonel tramped off to look over the defenses of the field. In his mind, it would only be a matter of time before fresh squadrons would arrive. His engineers had been busy repairing the crater damage to the field from two days past. Surely the Army and Navy would not leave him with only a handful of float planes at this strategically vital base. So when the new planes came, he had to be ready.
As for the Americans, they were now finding that even an unopposed landing in the pre-dawn darkness was an invitation to chaos. It would take three hours before the regiment had even one full battalion ashore and got it sorted out. Then the boats would return to the AP transports and start the process over. Much of the equipment for the battalion landed was also still on those transports, and so it would end up taking the Americans all that morning to simply get their men ashore and in reasonable order.
Patrols had been pushed out in the early afternoon, but nothing was seen. It wasn’t until 4pm that the ammunition loads, mortar teams and heavy weapons were actually delivered, and the 163rd Regimental commander, Colonel Jens A. Doe ,spent most of the day merely getting his men ashore and ordered for battle, but he was grateful for the interval of relative calm, unmolested by the enemy.
Yet landing was one thing, securing the vast span of this island would prove to be quite another. New Caledonia was all of 250 miles long. Carriers positioned south of Noumea could therefore not really control the airspace in the northern segment of the island. While there were no good ports there, it would still be possible for the Japanese to move troops and supplies in on small fast ships, even destroyers. Given the limitations on shipping, it had not been possible to make landings there concurrent with the assault on Noumea, and given the lack of motor transport, Colonel Doe knew they weren’t going to get up north any time soon. For now, it would be enough to secure Noumea, root out the French and Japanese units here, and bring in adequate supplies and air support units.
The Japanese would fight hard, that was a given. As for the French garrison, some were not happy about the odd twist of fate that had made enemies of former friends in this war. They had heard what had happened in Casablanca, and how Germany simply devoured France after Operation Torch. They also knew that all the Colonies of French North Africa were no longer under their control. Some remained bitter about their nation’s lot in the war, others looked to the future and decided who they might best ally with in years to come. They had an intense dislike for the stern Colonel Ichiki and his battalions of roughhewn Japanese infantry, and so for many, the arrival of the Americans was seen as a kind of liberation.
This meant the French defense was halfhearted, with many men of the French garrison simply throwing away their arms and melting into the population. The Americans would land to the north and south of the harbor, intending to cut the coastal road in both sectors and isolate Noumea. Only one battalion of Ichiki’s Regiment was in the town, and it soon found itself cut off from the rest of the regiment, and faced with the swelling numbers of a full US infantry division.
Yet this battle was only just beginning, and Colonel Doe and the rest of the 41st would soon learn that in a most uncomfortable way. It would be Admiral Hara’s planes that would do the most damage, swooping in over the anchorages like malicious dark crows. The bombs came whistling down, blasting the cruisers Minneapolis, Quincy, and Chicago, and putting enough damage on each to force them to retire to Sidney with Spruance. Cargo transports Largs Bay, Esperance Bay, and Diomed were left burning the latter half capsized in the bay. But most of the APDs had been further north and south, escaping harm. The only other ship that was hit was the destroyer Monaghan. All in all, Hara’s pilots scored 18 hits, all with bombs, but mostly on the ships that had been assigned to attack Noumea Harbor.
Halsey was too late to get fighter cover over the landings, something MacArthur complained about liberally. By the time he did get there, sending waves of blue winged fighters over the scene, Hara had recovered his planes, saw the gathering darkness, and turned away north. He would cover the movement of troops to Luganville now, finishing the deployment of the entire Japanese 20th Infantry Division. One regiment went there, another to Ndeni to take that outpost away from the enemy, and the last to Efate to tussle with the 8th USMC Regiment for control of that island.
As for Sergeant Wilson and the 112th Cavalry, they were still at sea, well south, and intended as a follow up unit for the Noumea landings. Colonel Julian Cunningham was already briefing his men as to what had happened and where they were really going. Captain Leonard was making the rounds to all Squadron commanders, finding Major Ruppert Johnson (1st Squadron), and telling him the men should get into full kit immediately.
So it was a sleepless night for Wilson and his troopers. The next day they would arrive at Noumea, see the three burning transports, and look warily skyward. All they would see were Halsey’s planes. By that time Hara was long gone, and Halsey would stand a stubborn watch with his fighters until all the remaining equipment was safely ashore, and MacArthur calmed down. Strategically, neither side could prevent the other from moving their troops, and a day later the convoy bearing the 112th Cavalry arrived. Soon they were mostly ashore, the last of the Whaler horses being led down the gangplanks. Yet as the men assembled neat the Nickel Dock, the smell of smoke and ash was heavy over the city. They could see fires raging, and still hear the sound of heavy fighting.
In the city itself, the US infantry had surrounded the single battalion the Japanese had there. Rather than surrender, the Japanese set fire to every building they occupied, fixed bayonets, and charged the Americans with their fury. They soon found what so many had learned in the last war, that charging men with bayonets were, in the end, no match for men sitting behind .50 caliber machineguns.
Ichiki’s 1st Battalion under Colonel Mizuno died to a man.
When it was over, the first job the 112th would be given was to rig up makeshift sleds from old doors and wall siding, and use them to cart off the dead.
Morgue detail, thought Sergeant Wilson. My god, look at the bodies, ours and theirs. We’ll haul them out east of the city and be done with it, but this can’t be all the Japs on this island. I’m told the 41st took heavy casualties against this lot. It’s going to be tougher here than we thought.