Challenge for the Pacific

None of the men really believed that they had come to a “rest area,” and some of them were already cursing Edson as a glory-hound who hung around headquarters sniffing out bloody assignments for his men. None of them, however, actually suspected that they, and they alone, stood between an approaching enemy and that Henderson Field which was now the prize of the Pacific war. So some of these men did not dig so deeply as they might have, for to dig into coral with truncated entrenching tools which are little better than trowels can be so painful and exhausting that only the fear of death can impel some men to attempt it.

That fear came upon these Marines next morning. Stringing barbed wire and hacking out fields of fire in the undergrowth, they heard the cry “Condition Red!” Twenty-six Bettys with twenty escorting Zeros were on their way. The men kept on working. The target would be, as always, the airfield behind them.

But the target was Bloody Ridge.

That tan, humpbacked mound rearing out of the dark green jungle sea like the spine of a whale leaped and shuddered as though harpooned.

Those who had dug pits hurled themselves into them, those who had not stood erect or tried to run and were killed or maimed.

And then the raid was over. It was quiet on the Ridge, beneath the growl and whine of aerial combat in which Marine fliers destroyed seven enemy planes and in which Major Robert Galer, shot down in the Bay, survived to swim ashore. But the men on Bloody Ridge did not know this. They knew only that the enemy was after their Ridge and they brushed dirt from their dungarees and began to dig with desperate fury.

“Some goddam rest area,” a corporal snarled. “Some goddam rest area!”¹⁰

Out in the jungle, General Kawaguchi’s toiling column of three thousand men took comfort in the sound of Japanese bombs falling on American Marines. But it was small comfort. Their march to the battle area had become an excruciating torment. It was a blind blundering stagger through a malevolent green labyrinth. Kawaguchi had no guides. The policies of Mr. Ishimoto had seen to that. Nor did the general have accurate maps or aerial mosaics.

Nevertheless, he pressed on. General Hyakutake had insisted that September 12 was to be the night of the attack and Kawaguchi could not miss that rigid deadline. He closed his eyes to the sight of limping soldiers and took an iron grip on his confidence. He would still prevail. Two of the Ichiki battalions would make the breakthrough and then the powerful unit led by Lieutenant Colonel Kusukichi Watanabe would dash to the airfield. Kawaguchi’s forces to east and west would close in simultaneously.

And then the surrender ceremony that day…

Remembering his lost white uniform General Kawaguchi’s face darkened and his hand fell to his saber hilt.

Vice-Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner also heard those Japanese bombs. He flew in just before “Condition Red!” was sounded and the Japanese bombers who raked the Raiders’ ridge also introduced Kelly Turner to the grim realities of life on Guadalcanal.

He sat out the raid in Vandegrift’s dugout just a hundred yards north of the quaking Ridge. He was discomfited but after the bombers left, Vandegrift noticed that he still looked tense. He was. He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and silently handed it to Vandegrift. Color drained from the general’s face. He winced. He was reading Admiral Ghormley’s estimate of the situation on Guadalcanal. Commander, South Pacific, summarized the enemy build-up: naval forces were gathering at Rabaul and Truk, aerial reinforcements were arriving daily, dozens of transports were in Simpson Harbor waiting to put troops aboard; an overwhelming push against Guadalcanal was likely. Then Ghormley scrutinized his own situation. He listed shortages in cruisers, carriers, destroyer-transports, and cargo vessels.

Admiral Ghormley concluded that he could no longer support the Marines on Guadalcanal.

Without a word Vandegrift handed the message to Colonel Thomas. The colonel read and looked up dumfounded.

“Put that message in your pocket,” Vandegrift told him. “I’ll talk to you about it later, but I don’t want anyone to know about it.”¹¹

Thomas nodded, watching Admiral Turner pulling a bottle out of his bag. He poured three drinks, and said: “Vandegrift, I’m not inclined to take so pessimistic a view of the situation as Ghormley does. He doesn’t believe I can get the Seventh Marine Regiment in here, but I think I have a scheme that will fool the Japs.”¹²

Turner’s plan was simply to bring the Seventh over a course well to the east of the normal approach, while carriers Wasp and Hornet and their screen sailed out of sight of the transports as though on normal patrol.

Vandegrift was encouraged at the thought of receiving 4000 fresh troops, but in Turner’s next breath he was dismayed. The admiral was playing general again. Because he was still Amphibious Force Commander, and because Guadalcanal had not yet taught the Americans that Landing Force Commanders such as Vandegrift must be at least the equal of the Amphibious Force Commanders when on the ground, Kelly Turner was still Archer Vandegrift’s superior. In that capacity he wanted to use the Seventh Marines to carve out little American enclaves on Guadalcanal. He was hopeful of establishing another airfield at Aola Bay, the point far to the east where Martin Clemens had had his district office. Vandegrift protested. Henderson Field was the prize. It was protected by a perimeter. All troops should be used to hold that perimeter until it was time to go on the offensive to drive Japan from the island.

The two men could not agree, and their discussion of how to use the Seventh Marines ended in stalemate.

That afternoon reinforcements of a different order arrived: twenty-four Wildcats from crippled Saratoga flew into Henderson Field led by Commander Le Roy Simpler.

That night the Tokyo Express was on schedule. For almost two hours Japanese naval shells combed Bloody Ridge. Once again the coral shivered and shook and Edson’s men dug their noses into damp coral and prayed. Once again Kelly Turner took shelter in Vandegrift’s dugout. He heard the shells whispering hoarsely overhead, heard them crash and felt their shock waves rattle the dugout. He had time to reflect on his earlier criticism of Vandegrift as being “unduly concerned” for the safety of his perimeter.¹³

In the morning Vandegrift showed him the carnage, especially the field hospital struck by a big shell. Before Turner departed he told Vandegrift: “When I bring the Seventh in I will land them where you want.”¹⁴

Aboard Saratoga in Pearl Harbor that afternoon, Admiral Chester Nimitz was about to present decorations. All hands were lined up on the flight deck. Nimitz stepped to the microphone and said, “Boys, I’ve got a surprise for you. Bill Halsey’s back!”

A storm of applause greeted Admiral Halsey as he stepped on deck, and the light blue eyes beneath the bristling gray eyebrows filled with tears. Halsey was ready for his new assignment, command of a carrier task force built around Enterprise; but his ships were not ready, yet. In the meantime, he would tour the South Pacific on an itinerary that would take him, he hoped, to Guadalcanal.

General Vandegrift had seen Admiral Turner safely off. Now he was walking back to his command post with Colonel Thomas. Vandegrift was preoccupied, thinking of Ghormley’s gloomy estimate. Then his jaw lifted and he said:

“You know, Jerry, when we landed in Tientsin in 1927, old Colonel E. B. Miller ordered me to draw up three plans. Two concerned the accomplishment of our mission, the third a withdrawal from Tientsin in case we got pushed out.” Vandegrift’s words came soft and slow. “Jerry, we’re going to defend this airfield until we no longer can. If that happens, we’ll take what’s left to the hills and fight guerrilla warfare. I want you to go see Bill Twining, swear him to secrecy and have him draw up a plan.”¹⁵

Thomas went to see Twining. “We can’t let this be another Bataan, Bill. We’ll go to the headquarters of the Lunga. We’ll take our food and bullets.”¹⁶ Twining agreed. He went to his tent and wrote out, by hand, an operation order which had neither date nor serial number. He put it in his safe.

Over at the Pagoda, Archer Vandegrift spoke to Roy Geiger. He told him that the Marines were staying on Guadalcanal, Navy or no Navy. “But if the time comes when we no longer can hold the perimeter I expect you to fly