Baker Co landed four minutes after H-Hour against stiff opposition, as did Charlie Co seven minutes later. The latter unit’s commander Capt Richard J. Huerth, took a bullet in the head just as he rose from his boat and he fell back into it dead. Capt Emerson E. Mason, the battalion intelligence officer, also received a fatal wound as he reached the beach. When Charlie Co’s two platoons came ashore, they took up positions facing Tanambogo to return enfilading fire from that direction, while Baker Co began a movement to the left around the hill. That masked them from Tanambogo and allowed them to make some progress. The nature of the enemy action defenders shooting from concealed underground positions surprised the parachutists. Several Marines became casualties when they investigated quiet cave openings, only to be met by bursts of fire. The battalion communications officer died in this manner. Many other parachutists withheld their fire because they saw no targets. Marines tossed grenades into caves and dugouts, but oftentimes soon found themselves being fired on from these ‘silenced’ positions. (Later investigation revealed that baffles built inside the entrances protected the occupants or that connecting trenches and tunnels allowed new defenders to occupy the defensive works). Twenty minutes into the battle, Maj Williams began leading men up Hill 148 and took a bullet in his side that put him out of action. The enemy fire drove off attempts to pull him to safety and his executive officer, Maj Charles A. Miller, took control of the operation. Miller established the command post and aid station in a partially demolished building near the dock area. Around 1400, Miller called for an airstrike against Tanambogo and about half an hour later he radioed for reinforcements.
While the paratroopers awaited this assistance, Baker Co and a few men from Able Co continued to attack Hill 148 from its eastern flank. Individuals and small groups worked from dugout to dugout under rifle and machine gun fire from the enemy. Learning from initial experience, Marines began to tie demolition charges of TNT to longboards and stuff them into the entrances. That prevented the enemy from throwing back the explosives and it permanently put the positions out of action. Capt Harry L. Torgerson and Cpl Johnnie Blackan distinguished themselves in this effort. Other men, such as Sgt Max Koplow and Cpl Ralph W. Fordyce, took a more direct approach and entered the bunkers with submachine guns blazing. Platoon Sgt Harry M. Tully used his marksmanship skill and Johnson rifle to pick off a number of Japanese snipers.
The paratroopers got their 60-MM mortars into action too and used them against Japanese positions on the upper slopes of Hill 148. By 1430, the eastern half of the island was secure, but enemy fire from Tanambogo kept the parachutists from overrunning the western side of the hill. In the course of the afternoon, the Navy responded to Miller’s call for support. Dive bombers worked over Tanambogo, then two destroyers closed on the island and thoroughly shelled it. In the midst of this action, one pilot mistakenly dropped his ordnance on b>Gavutu‘s hilltop and inflicted several casualties on Baker Co. By 1800, the battalion succeeded in raising the US flag at the summit of Hill 148 and physically occupying the remainder of Gavutu. With the suppression of fire from Tanambogo and the cover of night, the parachutists collected their casualties, including Maj Williams, and began evacuating the wounded to the transports. Ground reinforcements arrived more slowly than fire support. Baker 1/2-USMC Regiment reported to Miller on Gavutu at 1800. He ordered them to make an amphibious landing on Tanambogo and arranged for preparatory fire by a destroyer. The paratroopers also would support the move with their fire and Charlie Co would attack across the causeway after the landing. Miller, perhaps buoyed by the late afternoon decrease in enemy fire from Tanambogo, was certain that the fresh force would carry the day. For his part, Baker Co’s commander left the meeting under the impression that there were only a few snipers left on the island.
The attack ran into trouble from the beginning and the Marine force ended up withdrawing under heavy fire. During the night, the paratroopers dealt with Japanese emerging from dugouts or swimming ashore from Tanambogo or Florida. Heavy rain helped conceal these attempts at infiltration, but the enemy accomplished little. At 2200, Gen Rupertus requested additional forces to seize Tanambogo and the 3/2-USMC Regiment went ashore on Gavutu late in the morning on August 8. They took over many of the positions facing Tanambogo and in the afternoon launched an amphibious attack of one company supported by three tanks. Another platoon followed up the landing by attacking across the causeway. Bitter fighting ensued and the 3rd Battalion did not completely secure Tanambogo until August 9. This outfit suffered additional casualties on August 8 when yet another Navy dive bomber mistook Gavutu for Tanambogo and struck Hill 148.
In the first combat operation of an American parachute unit, the battalion had suffered severe losses: 28 killed and about 50 wounded, nearly all of the latter requiring evacuation. The dead included four officers and 11 NCOs. The casualty rate of just over 20 percent was by far the highest of any unit in the fighting to secure the initial lodgment in the Guadalcanal area. The Raiders were next in line with roughly 10 percent. The Japanese force defending Gavutu-Tanambog was nearly wiped out, with only a handful surrendering or escaping to Florida Island. Despite the heavy odds the paratroopers had faced, they had proved more than equal to the faith placed in their capabilities and had distinguished themselves in a very tough fight. In addition to raw courage, they had displayed the initiative and resourcefulness required to deal with a determined and cunning enemy.
On the night of August 8, a Japanese surface force arrived from Rabaul and surprised the Allied naval forces guarding the transports. In a brief engagement, the enemy sank four cruisers and a destroyer, damaged other ships, and killed 1200 sailors, all at minimal cost to themselves. The American naval commander had little choice the next morning but to order the early withdrawal of his force. Most of the transports would depart that afternoon with their cargo holds half full, leaving the Marines short of food, ammunition, and equipment. The paratroopers suffered an additional loss that would make life even more miserable for them. They had landed on August 7 with just their weapons, ammunition, and a two-day supply of C and D rations. They had placed their extra clothing, mess gear, and other essential field items into individual rolls and loaded them on a landing craft for movement to the beach after they secured the islands. As the paratroopers fought onshore, Navy personnel decided they needed to clear out the boat, so they uncomprehendingly tossed all the gear into the sea. The battalion ended its brief association with Gavutu on the afternoon of August 9 and shifted to a bivouac site on Tulagi.
RAID IN TASIMBOKO
As August progressed it became clear that the Japanese were focusing their effort in the Solomons on regaining the vital airfield on Guadalcanal. The enemy poured fresh troops onto the island via the Tokyo Express a shuttle of ships and barges coming down the Slot each night. The 1st Marines destroyed the newly landed Ichiki Detachment along the Tenaru River on August 21, but the understrength Marine division had too few troops to secure the entire perimeter. To bolster his force, Gen Vandegrift brought the raiders over from Tulagi at the end of August and switched the paratroopers a few days later. The two battalions went into reserve in a coconut grove near Lunga Point.
During this period Maj Miller took ill and went into the field hospital, as did other paratroopers. The shrinking battalion, temporarily commanded by a captain and down to less than 300 operational men, was so depleted in numbers and senior leadership that Vandegrift decided to attach them to Edson’s 1st Raider Battalion. The combined unit roughly equaled the size of a standard infantry battalion, though it still lacked the heavy firepower. Following the arrival of the first aviation reinforcements on August 20, the division made use of its daytime control of the skies to launch a number of seaborne operations. Near the end of the month, a battalion of the 5th Marines conducted an amphibious spoiling attack on Japanese forces to the west of the perimeter but inflicted little damage due to a lack of aggressive leadership. Two companies of raiders found no enemy after scouring Savo Island on September 4, while a mix-up in communications scrubbed a similar foray scheduled the next day for Cape Esperance.
By September 6, Japanese naval activity and native scouting reports indicated that the enemy was concentrating fresh troops near the village of Tasimboko, located on the coast several miles east of the Marine lines. Edson and Col Gerald C. Thomas, the division operations officer, hatched a plan to raid this eastern terminus of the Tokyo Express on September 8. Intelligence initially placed two or three hundred Japanese at Tasimboko, with their defenses located west of the village and facing toward Henderson Field. Edson planned to land to the east of the village and attack them from the rear. The available shipping consisted of two transport destroyers (APDs) and two small, converted tuna boats, so the raider commander divided his force into two waves. The raider rifle companies would embark on the evening of September 7 and land just prior to dawn, then the tiny fleet would shuttle back to the perimeter to pick up the weapons company and the paratroopers. Since the APDs were needed for other missions, the Marine force would have to complete its work and reembark the same day, the Navy had already lost 3 of the original 6 APDs in Guadalcanal. On the evening of September 7, native scouts brought news that the enemy force at Tasimboko had swelled to several thousand. Division planners discounted these reports, believing that they were greatly exaggerated or referred to remnants of previously defeated formations. When the raiders landed at 0520 a day later, they immediately realized that the natives had provided accurate information. Not far from the beach, Marines discovered endless rows of neatly placed life preservers, a large number of foxholes, and several unattended 37-MM antitank guns. Luckily for Edson’s outfit, Gen Kiyotake Kawaguchi and his brigade of more than 3000 men already had departed into the interior. Only a rearguard of 300 soldiers remained behind to secure the Japanese base at Tasimboko, but even that small force was nearly as large as the first wave of raiders.
Dog Co of the raiders (little more than a platoon in strength) remained at the landing beach as rear security while the other companies moved west toward Tasimboko. The raiders soon ran into stubborn resistance, with the Japanese firing artillery over open sights directly at the advancing Marines. Edson sent one company-wide to the left to flank the defenders. As the action developed, the APDs Manley and McKean returned to Kukum Beach at 0755 and the Parachute Battalion (less Charlie Co) debarked within 25 minutes. The 208 paratroopers joined Dog Co ashore by 1130 and went into defensive positions adjacent to them. Edson, fearing that he might be moving into a Japanese trap, already had radioed division twice and asked for reinforcements, including another landing to the west of Tasimboko in what was now the enemy rear. In reply, the division ordered the raiders and the paratroopers to withdraw. Edson persisted, however, and Japanese resistance melted away about noon. The raider assault echelon entered the village and discovered a stockpile of food, ammunition, and weapons ranging up to 75-MM artillery pieces. The raider and parachute rear guard closed up on the main force and the Marines set about destroying the enemy supply base. Three hours later the combined unit began to reembark and all were back in the division perimeter by nightfall. The raid was a minor tactical victory with a major operational impact on the Guadalcanal Campaign. At a cost of two killed and six wounded, the Marines had killed 27 Japanese. The enemy suffered more grievously in terms of lost firepower, logistics, and communication. Intelligence gathered at the scene also revealed some details about the coming Japanese offensive. These latter facts would allow the 1st Marine Division to fight off one of the most serious challenges to its tenuous hold on Henderson Field.
THE BLOODY BATTLE OF AND AROUND EDSON’S RIDGE
On September 9, Edson met with division planners to discuss the results of the raid. Intelligence officers translating captured documents indicated that up to 3000 Japanese were cutting their way through the jungle southwest of Tasimboko. Edson was convinced that they planned to attack the unguarded southern portion of the perimeter. From an aerial photograph, he picked out a grass-covered ridge that pointed like a knife at the airfield. He based his hunch on his experience with the Japanese and in jungle operations in Nicaragua. Col Thomas agreed. Vandegrift, just in the process of moving his command post into that area, was reluctant to accept a conclusion that would force him to move yet again. After much discussion, he allowed Thomas to shift the bivouac of the raiders and parachutists to the ridge to get them out of the pattern of bombs falling around the airfield. The combined force moved to the new location on September 10 and quickly discovered that it was not the rest area they had hoped to enjoy. Orders came down from Edson to dig in and enemy aircraft bombed the ridge on September 11 and 12, inflicting several casualties. Native scouts reported the progress of the Japanese column and Marine patrols confirmed the presence of strong enemy forces to the southeast of the perimeter.
The raiders and the paratroopers found the process of constructing defensive positions toughgoing. There were very little barbed wire and no sandbags or heavy tools. Men digging in on the ridge itself found coral just below the shallow surface soil. The units disposed in the flanking jungle were hampered by the thick growth, which reduced fields of fire to nothing. Both units were smaller than ever, as tropical illnesses, poor diet, and lack of sleep combined to swell the number of men in the field hospital. Those still listed as effective often were just barely so. Edson faced a tough situation as he contemplated how to defend the ridge area. Several hundred yards to the right of his coral hogback was the Lunga River; beyond it, elements of the 1st Pioneer and 1st Amphibious Tractor Battalions had strong points. More than a mile to his left was the tail end of the 1st Marine Regiment’s positions along the Tenaru River. With the exception of the kunai grass-covered slopes of the ridge, everything else was a dense jungle. His small force, about the size of a single infantry battalion but lacking all the heavy weapons, could not possibly establish a classic linear defense. Edson placed the paratroopers on the east side of the ridge with Baker Co holding a line running from the slope of Hill 80 into the jungle. The other two companies echeloned to the rear to hold the left flank. Baker Co occupied the right slope of Hill 80 and anchored their right on a lagoon; Charlie Co placed platoon strong points between the lagoon and the river, and the remaining raiders were in reserve near Hill 120. Thomas moved the 2/5-USMC Regiment, into position between the ridge and the airfield and reoriented some of his artillery to fire to the south. Artillery forward observers joined Edson’s command post on the front slope of Hill 120 and registered the guns.
On the Jap’s side, Kawaguchi’s Brigade faced its own troubles as it fought through the jungle and over the numerous slimy ridges. The rough terrain forced the Japanese to leave behind their artillery and most of their supplies. Their commander also detailed one of his four battalions to make a diversionary attack along the Tenaru, which left him with just 2500 men for the main assault. To make matters worse, the Japanese had underestimated the jungle and fallen behind schedule. As the sunset on September 12, Kawaguchi realized that only one battalion was in its assembly area and none of his units had been able to reconnoiter their routes of attack. The Japanese general tried to delay the jump-off scheduled for 2200, but he could not contact his battalions. Without guides and running late, the attack blundered forward in the darkness and soon degenerated into confusion. At the appointed hour, a Japanese float plane dropped green flares over the Marine positions. A cruiser and three destroyers began shelling the ridge area and kept up the bombardment for 20 minutes, though few rounds landed on their intended target; many sailed over the ridge into the jungle beyond. Japanese infantry followed up with their own flares and began to launch their assault. The enemy’s confusion may have benefited the parachute battalion since all the action occurred on the raider side of the position. The enemy never struck the ridge proper but did dislodge Charlie Co’s raiders, who fell back and eventually regrouped near Hill 120. At daylight, the Japanese broke off the attack and tried to reorganize for another attempt the next night. In the morning, Edson ordered a counterattack by the raiders of Dog Co and the paratroopers of Able Co to recapture Charlie Co’s position.
The far more numerous Japanese stopped them cold with machine gunfire. Since he could not eject the Japanese from a portion of his old front, the raider commander decided to withdraw the entire line to the reserve position. In the late afternoon, Baker Cos of both, raiders and paratroopers, pulled back and anchored themselves on the ridge between Hills 80 and 120. The division provided an engineer company, which Edson inserted on the right of the ridge. Able Co of the raiders covered the remaining ground to the Lunga. Charlie Co paratroopers occupied a draw just to the left rear of their own Baker Co, while Able Co held another draw on the east side of Hill 120. The raiders of Charlie and Dog Cos assumed a new reserve position on the west slope of the ridge, just behind Hill 120. Edson’s forward command post was just in front of the top of Hill 120.
Kawaguchi renewed his attack right after darkness fell on September 13. His first blow struck the right flank of the raiders’ Baker Co and drove more than a platoon of those Marines out of their positions. Most linked up with Charlie Co in their rear, while the remainder of Baker Co clung to its position in the center of the ridge. The Japanese did not exploit the gap, except to send some infiltrators into the rear of the raider and parachute line. They apparently cut some of the phone lines running from Edson’s command post to his companies, though he was able to warn the parachutists of the threat in their rear.
By 2100, the Japanese obviously were massing around the southern nose of the ridge, lapping around the flanks of the two Baker Cos, and making their presence known with firecrackers, flares, a hellish bedlam of howls, and rhythmic chanting designed to strike fear into the heart of their enemy and draw return fire for the purpose of pinpointing automatic weapons. Edson responded with a fierce artillery barrage and orders to Charlie Co raiders and Able Co paratroopers to form a reserve line around the front and sides of Hill 120. As Japanese mortar and machine gun fire swept the ridge, Capt William J. McKennan and 1/Sgt Marion LeNoir gathered their paratroopers and led them into position around the knoll.
The Japanese assault waves finally surged forward around 2200. The attack, focused on the open ground of the ridge, immediately unhinged the remainder of the Marine center. Capt Justin G. Duryea, commanding the Baker Co paratroopers, ordered his men to withdraw as Marine artillery shells fell ever closer to the front lines and Japanese infantry swarmed around his left flank. He also believed that the remainder of the Baker Co raiders already was falling back on his right. To add to the confusion, Marines thought they heard shouts of gas attack as smoke rose up from the lower reaches of the ridge. Duryea’s small force ended up next to Charlie Co in the draw on the east slope, where he reported to Torgerson, now the battalion executive officer. The units were clustered in low-lying ground and had no contact on their flanks. Torgerson ordered both companies to withdraw to the rear of Hill 120, where he hoped to reorganize them in the lee of the reserve line and the masking terrain. Given the collapse of the front line, it was a reasonable course of action. The withdrawal of the parachutists left the rump of the raiders, perhaps 60 men, alone in the center of the front line.
Edson arranged for covering fire from the artillery and the troops around Hill 120, then ordered Baker Co back to the knoll. There they joined the reserve line, which was now the new front line. This series of rearward movements threatened to degenerate into a rout. Night movements under fire are always confusing and commanders no longer had positive control of coherent units. There was no neat line of fighting holes to occupy, no time to hold muster and sort out raiders from paratroopers and get squads, platoons, and companies back together again. A few men began to filter to the rear of the hill, while others lay prone waiting for direction. Edson, with his command post now in the middle of the front line, took immediate action. The raider commander ordered Torgerson to lead his Companies, Baker and Charlie, from the rear of the hill and lengthen the line running from the left of Able Co’s position. Edson then made it known that this would be the final stand, that no one was authorized to retreat another step. Maj Kenneth D. Bailey, commander of the raiders from Charlie Co, played a major role in revitalizing the defenders. He moved along the line of mingled raiders and paratroopers, encouraging everyone and breathing new life into those on the verge of giving up.
Under the direction of Torgerson and unit leaders, the two parachute companies in reserve moved forward in a skirmish line and established contact on the flank of their fellows from Able Co. They met only ‘slight resistance’ in the process but soon came under heavy attack as the Japanese renewed their assault on the hill. Edson later thought that this action ‘succeeded in breaking up a threatening hostile envelopment of our position’ and ‘was a decisive factor in our ultimate victory’. The new line of raiders and paratroopers was not very strong, just a small horseshoe bent around the bare slopes of the knoll, with troops from the two battalions still intermingled in many spots. The artillery kept up a steady barrage the most intensive concentration of the campaign according to the division’s final report. And all along the line, Marines threw hand grenade after hand grenade to support the fire of their automatic weapons. Supplies of ammunition dwindled rapidly and moving cases of grenades and belted machine gun rounds to the front line became a key element of the fight.
At 0400, Edson asked the division to commit the reserve battalion to bolster his depleted forces. One company at a time, the men of the 2/5-USMC Regiment, moved along the spine of the ridge and into place beside those who had survived the long night. By dawn, the Japanese had exhausted their reservoir of fighting spirit and Kawaguchi admitted defeat in the face of a tenacious defense backed by superior firepower. The enemy began to break contact and retreat, although a number of small groups and individuals remained scattered through the jungle on the flanks and in the rear of the Marine position. The men of the 2/5-USMC Regiment began the long process of rooting out these snipers, while Edson ordered an air strike to hasten the departure of the main Japanese force. A flight of P-40s answered the call and strafed the enemy infantry still clinging to the exposed forward slopes of Hill 80.
The raiders and the paratroopers walked off the ridge that morning and returned to their previous bivouac in the coconut grove. Although an accurate count of Japanese bodies was impossible, the division estimated there were some 700 dead sprawled around the small battlefield. Of Kawaguchi’s 500 wounded, few would survive the difficult trek back to the coast. The two-day battle on the ridge had cost the 1st Raiders 135 men and the 1st Parachute Battalion 128. Of those totals, 59 were dead or missing, including 15 parachutists killed in action. Many of the wounded parachutists would eventually return to duty, but for the moment the battalion was down to about 100 effective, the equivalent of a severely understrength rifle company. It was no longer a useful tactical entity and had seen its last action on Guadalcanal. Three days later, a convoy brought the 7th Marines to the island and the remaining men of the 1st Parachute Battalion embarked in those ships for a voyage to a welcome period of rest and recuperation in a rear area. The parachute battalion had contributed a great deal to the successful prosecution of the campaign. They had made the first American amphibious assault of the war against a defended beach and fought through intense fire to secure the island. Despite their meager numbers, lack of senior leadership, and minimal firepower, they had stood with the raiders against difficult odds on the ridge. The 1st Marine Division’s final report on Guadalcanal lauded that performance: the actions and conduct of those who participated in the defense of the ridge are deserving of the warmest commendation. The troops engaged were tired, sleepless, and battle-weary at the outset. Throughout the night they held their positions in the face of powerful attacks by overwhelming numbers of the enemy. Driven from one position they reorganized and clung tenaciously to another until daylight found the enemy again in full flight.
Looking back on the campaign after the war, Gen Vandegrift would say: I think the most crucial moment was the Battle of the Ridge.
RECUPERATION AND REEVALUATION
The 1st Parachute Battalion arrived in New Caledonia and went into a ‘dreadful’ transient camp. For the next few weeks, the area headquarters assigned the tired, sick men of the orphaned unit to unload ships and work on construction projects. Luckily, Col Williams returned to duty after recovering from his wound and took immediate steps to rectify the situation. The battalion’s last labor project was building its own permanent quarters, named Camp Kiser after Lt Walter W. Kiser, killed at Gavutu. The site was picturesque; a grassy, undulating plain rising into low hills and overlooking the Tontouta River. Wooden structures housed the parachute loft and mess halls, but for the most part, the officers and men lived and worked in tents. The 24 transport planes of VMJ-152 and VMJ-253 occupied a nearby airfield. The parachutists made a few conditioning hikes while they built their camp and began serious training in November. The first order of business was reintroducing themselves to their primary specialty since none of them had touched a parachute in many months. They practiced packing and jumping and graduated to tactical training emphasizing patrolling and jungle warfare. The 1st Battalion received company on January 11, 1943, when the 2nd Battalion arrived at Tontouta and went into bivouac at Camp Kiser. The West Coast parachute outfit had continued to build itself up while his East Coast counterpart sailed with the 1st Marine Division and fought at Guadalcanal. During the summer of 1942, the 2nd Battalion had found enough aircraft in busy Southern California to make mass jumps with up to 14 planes. (Though ‘mass’ is a relative term here; an entire battalion required about 50 R3D-2s to jump at once).
The battalion also benefited from its additional time in the States, as it received Johnson rifles and light machine guns in place of the reviled Reisings. However, the manpower pipeline was still slow, as Charlie Co did not come into being until September 3, 1942 (18 months after the first paratroopers reported to San Diego for duty). The battalion sailed from San Diego in October 1942, arrived at Wellington (New Zealand) in November, and departed for New Caledonia on January 6, 1943. As the 2nd Battalion prepared to head overseas, it detached a cadre to form the 3rd Parachute Battalion, which officially came into existence on September 16, 1942. Compared to its older counterparts, the 3rd Battalion grew like a weed and reached full strength by the end of December. The battalion commander, Maj Robert T. Vance, emphasized infantry tactics, demolition work, guerrilla warfare, and physical conditioning in addition to parachuting. At the beginning of 1943, the battalion simulated a parachute assault behind enemy lines in support of a practice amphibious landing by the 21st Marines on San Clemente Island. The fully trained outfit sailed from San Diego in March and joined the 1st and 2nd Battalions at Camp Kiser before the end of the month.
At the end of 1942, the Marine Corps had transferred the parachute battalions from their respective divisions and made them a Marine Amphibious Corps asset. This recognized their special training and unique mission and theoretically allowed them to withdraw from the battlefield and rebuild while the divisions remained engaged in extended land combat. After the 3rd Battalion arrived in New Caledonia in March 1943, the 1-MAC took the next logical step and created the 1st Parachute Regiment on April 1. This fulfilled Holland Smith’s original call for a regimental-size unit and provided for unified control of the battalions in combat and in training. Col Williams became the first commanding officer of the new organization.
Just when things appeared most promising for Marine parachuting, the Corps shifted into reverse gear. Gen Holcomb and planners at Headquarters had not shown much enthusiasm for the program since mid-1940 and apparently began to have strong second thoughts in the fall of 1942. In October, Gen Keller E. Rockey, the director of Plans and Policies at HQMC, had queried the 1-MAC about the ‘use of parachutists’ in its geographic area. There is no record of a reply, but 1-MAC later sent Col Williams in a B-24 bomber to make an aerial reconnaissance of New Georgia in the Central Solomons for a potential airborne operation.
In early 1943, 1-MAC dragged its feet on planning for the Central Solomons mission and the Navy eventually turned to the Army’s XIV Corps headquarters to command the June invasion of New Georgia. In March, the Navy decided that Vandegrift would take over 1-MAC in July, with Thomas as his chief of staff. They had suffered the loss of some of their best men to the parachute and raider programs during the difficult buildup of the 1st Marine Division and both believed that ‘the Marine Corps wasn’t an outfit that needed these specialties’. They made their thoughts on the subject known to Headquarters. The chronic shortage of aircraft also continued to hobble the program. In the summer of 1943, the Corps had just seven transport squadrons, with only one more on the drawing boards. If the entire force had been concentrated in one place, it could only have carried about one and a half battalions. As it was, three squadrons were brand new and still in the States and another one operated out of Hawaii. There were only three in the South Pacific theater. These were fully engaged in logistics operations and were the sole asset available to make critical supply runs on short notice. As an example, the entire transport force in New Caledonia spent the middle of October 1942 ferrying aviation gas to Guadalcanal, 10 drums per plane, in the aftermath of the bombardment of Henderson Field by Japanese battleships. They also evacuated 2879 casualties during the course of that campaign. Senior commands would have been unwilling to divert the planes from such missions for the time required to train the crews and parachutists for a mass jump in an operation. The Army’s transport fleet was equally busy and MacArthur would not assemble enough assets to launch his first parachute assault of the Pacific War until September 1943 (a regimental drop in New Guinea supported by 96 C-47s). The regiment was unable to do any jumping after May 1943 due to the lack of aircraft. The 2nd Battalion’s last jump was a night drop from 15 Army Air Corps C-47s. The planes came over Tontouta off course. Unaware of the problem, the Marines jumped out onto a hilly, wooded area. One paratrooper died and 11 were injured. Thereafter, the paratroopers focused on amphibious operations and ground combat. Col Victor H. Krulak drew rubber boats for his 2nd Battalion and worked on raider tactics.
In late August, 1-MAC contemplated putting them to work seizing a Japanese seaplane base at Rekat Bay (Santa Isabel), but the enemy evacuated the installation before the intended D-Day. Near the end of April 1943, Rockey suggested to the Commandant that the Corps disband the parachute school at New River and use its personnel to form the fourth and final battalion. He estimated that the production of 30 new jumpers per week at San Diego would be sufficient to maintain field units at full strength. The reduction in school overhead and the training pipeline would relieve some of the pressure on Marine manpower, while the barracks and classroom space at New River would meet the needs of the burgeoning Women’s Reserve program. Gen Harry Schmidt, acting in place of Holcomb, signed off on the recommendations. Baker Co of the 4th Battalion had formed in Southern California on April 2, 1943. Nearly all of the 33 officers and 727 enlisted men of the New River school transferred to Camp Pendleton in early July to flesh out the remainder of the battalion. Transport planes were hard to come by in the States, too, and the outfit never conducted a tactical training jump during its brief existence.
OPERATION BLISSFUL CHOISEUL
The Allied campaign in the Central Solomons had as its ultimate objective the encirclement and neutralization of the major Japanese air and naval base of Rabaul. As the South Pacific Command contemplated its next step toward that goal, it initially focused on the Shortland Islands, but these were too heavily defended in comparison with the available Allied forces. Planners then turned their attention to Choiseul Island. Once seized, airbases there would allow US air power to neutralize enemy airfields on the northern and southern tips of Bougainville. Gen Douglas MacArthur, the Southwest Pacific commander, wanted to short-circuit the process and move directly to Bougainville, which would allow American fighter planes to effectively support bomber attacks on Rabaul.
Adm William F. Halsey’s South Pacific command had too few transports and Marines to make a direct assault on the strongly garrisoned airfields on the northern and southern tips of Bougainville, so he decided to seize the Empress Augusta Bay region midway up the western side of the island and build his own airbases. Defenses there were negligible and Bougainville‘s difficult terrain would prevent any rapid reaction from enemy ground forces located elsewhere on the island.
D-Day for the Empress Augusta Bay operation was November 1, 1943. Two regiments of the 3rd Marine Division and two marine raider battalions (organized regiment as the 2nd Raider Regiment), and the 3rd Defense Battalion formed the assault echelon for the landing. The division’s third regiment, the Army’s 37th Infantry Division, and assorted other units would arrive later to reinforce the perimeter while construction troops built the new airfields. The 1-MAC staff slated the 1st Parachute Regiment as the reserve force. The 2nd Parachute Battalion sailed to Guadalcanal in early September and then moved forward to a staging area at Vella Lavella on October 1.
New Zealand and US forces already had secured part of that island, but the Japanese still were contesting control of the air overhead and small bands of soldiers were roaming the jungle. Enemy planes struck the parachute battalion’s small convoy of three APDs and an LST as it unloaded and put two bombs into the tank landing ship just as it was preparing to touch the beach. It sank in shallow water, which allowed most of the troops to make it ashore. But 14 paratroopers and the battalion lost most of its supplies and unit equipment. Once established in camp, the parachutists conducted patrols to search for Japanese stragglers on the island. The rest of the regiment arrived in Vella Lavella during the latter part of October. As the final planning for Bougainville progressed, the 1-MAC staff grew concerned that preliminary operations might make it obvious to the Japanese that an invasion was in the offing. To address that problem, in mid-October, Maj James C. Murray, staff secretary, advanced the idea that a raid on Choiseul, might make the enemy think that it was the next objective. Even if that did not dissuade them about Bougainville, it might cause them to suspect that a US landing on Bougainville would come on the east coast, since Choiseul would be a move in that direction. On October 20, Vandegrift brought Col Krulak, the 2nd Battalion commander, to Guadalcanal for a conference with the 1-MAC staffers, who outlined the scheme. The corps issued final orders on October 22, for the 2nd Parachute Battalion to begin the raid six days later. Intelligence indicated there were up to 4000 Japanese on the island, most of them dispersed in small camps along the coast awaiting transportation for a withdrawal to Bougainville. Their supply situation supposedly was poor, although planners believed they still had most of their weapons, including mortars and light artillery.
The 2nd Parachute Battalion’s mission was to land at an undefended area near Voza, conduct raids along the northwestern coast, select a site for a possible PT [patrol torpedo] boat base, and withdraw after 12 days if the Navy decided it did not want to establish a PT boat facility. The paratroopers were to give the enemy the impression that they were a large force trying to seize Choiseul. To beef up the battalion’s firepower, 1-MAC attached a platoon of machine guns from the regimental weapons company and an experimental rocket platoon. (The latter unit – a lieutenant and eight men – had 40 of these fin-stabilized, 65-pound weapons. They were not very accurate, but their 1000-meter range and large warhead gave the lightly armed battalion a hefty punch. A detachment of four landing craft would remain with the force and give it some mobility. A Navy PBY also landed at Choiseul and brought out an Australian detachment of coast watchers, Carden W. Seton, who would accompany the raid force and ensure it received the full support of local natives. Altogether the reinforced battalion numbered about 700 men. Krulak planned a night landing at 0100 on October 28. His order emphasized the nature of the operation: The ‘basic principle is a strike and move; avoid decisive engagement with superior forces’. Early in the evening of October 27, four APDs and the destroyer USS Conway (DD-507) hove to off Vella Lavella. The 2nd Battalion, which had half its supplies already preloaded in landing craft, completed debarkation in less than an hour. The small convoy had a short but eventful trip to Choiseul, as an unidentified aircraft dropped bombs close aboard one of the APDs. The ships arrived early off Voza and the small Marine force was completely ashore by 0100.
