Now Boyington pointed his Corsair in the direction of the retreating American planes, and found himself above a Zero racing homeward. It was low over the water. A single burst sent it in.
It had been an impressive first mission. Boyington was satisfied to call it a day and head for Munda, for he had not enough gas to reach the Russells. Nearing the new airstrip he came upon an oil-smeared, shell-riddled Corsair flying low over the water while a pair of Zeros harried its tail. Boyington roared down behind the closest Zero, his guns chattering. The Zero stood on its tail. Boyington hauled back on the stick and fell into a spin just as the Zero burst apart in flames.
The other Zero fled and the Corsair vanished. Boyington never saw it again, and there was no time to search. He came into Munda with his tanks dry and but 30 rounds of ammunition left for his guns.
He had shot down an ace’s portion on his squadron’s first mission and his men had added a half-dozen kills of their own to the score.
Soon the
Kennedy the coastwatcher had at last been persuaded to come to Guadalcanal. New Georgia had been secured, the entire Central Solomons campaign had been victoriously concluded on September 25, and now, in the final days of September, the Americans were insistent that Captain Kennedy come south to his just reward.
“Captain Kennedy,” the general said, “we would like to present you with a medal.”
“Thanks, no—give the medals to the chaps doing the flying.”
“Captain Kennedy,” the general continued, “there must be something you want.”
“If you really insist on wanting to know, then I guess I’d better tell you.”
“Captain Kennedy,” the general said gladly, “what would you like?”
“After thirty-six months in the bush I would like to have thirty-six beautiful chorus girls arguing over my drunken carcass.”
The Black Sheep were coming up to Kahili, the formidable air base on the southern tip of Bougainville. This was the base which had to be smashed to make way for two of the three Marine offensives preparing that October. It had been struck repeatedly by Marine aircraft from the Russells and from Munda, where the Black Sheep were now based. On this flight the Black Sheep were escorting bombers, but the weather was bad for bombing and the Avengers flew home. The Black Sheep hung around. Suddenly, in a voice with no trace of accent but too precise to be true, the radio crackled with the question:
“Major Boyington, what is your position?”
Boyington grinned. It was the Japanese ground-control director pretending to be an American pilot.
“Over Treasury Island,” Boyington lied, immediately beginning to climb, for the next question would concern his “angels” or altitude. It came:
“What are your angels, Major Boyington?”
“Twenty angels, repeating, twenty angels.”
“I receive you, five by five,” the Japanese concluded with prim efficiency, and by then the Black Sheep were already up to 21,000 feet—and streaming up below them, coming out of a white cloud, was a formation of 30 Zeros.
It was over in less than a minute. The Black Sheep struck out of nowhere, with the bright sun at their back to blind their enemies, and they continued their downward flight through the exploding wreckage of a dozen downed planes. Boyington got three of them himself. A few days later he and his Black Sheep again beguiled the enemy by flying high over Kahili in a V of V bomber formation, luring the Japanese into the swift onslaught and massed firepower of fighters.
For such exuberance in aerial combat-and for off-duty exuberance which was the inevitable consequence of Boyington’s unrivaled ability to draw large issues of medical brandy-the Black Sheep became the toast of the Marine air arm. And they had taken to toasting their leader in a serenade adapted to the Yale “Whiffenpoof Song.” It went:
They were indeed “poor little lambs off on a spree,” for in a single month of combat they had damned 57 enemy pilots “from here to eternity” while losing but two of their own.
5
In mid-October of 1943 the First Marine Division had said farewell to Melbourne and its units were sailing to staging areas in New Guinea and Goodenough Island. The Third Marine Division was on Guadalcanal, completing jungle training, and the staff of the Second Marine Division was busy on plans for the seizure of Tarawa. In that same month General MacArthur and Admiral Halsey agreed on the first step in the drive to reduce Rabaul.
Rabaul was at the center of things in the South Pacific. So long as Japan possessed this great air-sea-troop base on the northeastern tip of New Britain, she could move south to the Solomons or strike west to New Guinea. She could send her bombers northeast to the Gilberts and Marshalls.
Deny Japan the use of Rabaul, and General MacArthur could drive up the New Guinea coast with his seaward flank secure and the assault in the Central Pacific could begin without fear of Rabaul’s bombers.
But to get at Rabaul required an air base closer to it than Munda on New Georgia. Such a base could be on any one of a number of islands in the Northern Solomons. General MacArthur and Admiral Halsey agreed that it should be Bougainville.
Bougainville was assaulted by the Third Marine Division, with the Army’s 37th Infantry Division in reserve. Both units were part of the First Marine Amphibious Corps, commanded by Alexander Vandegrift, now a lieutenant general. With three stars on his shoulder, Vandegrift now outranked his old opponent, Haruyoshi Hyakutate.
Lieutenant General Hyakutate still commanded the 17th Army. He had been placed in charge of the Northern Solomons by General Hitoshi Imamura, whose 8th Area Army command included the Bismarcks (New Britain and surrounding islands), New Guinea and the Northern Solomons. Hyakutate expected the Americans to strike at Bougainville, probably at Kahili Airfield on the southern tip.
Guessing that the Japanese strength was concentrated at Kahili, Vandegrift had to pretend that he was going there while he was actually going somewhere else.
He was going to land at Empress Augusta Bay halfway up Bougainville’s 130-mile west coast. The landing place would be immediately west or left of Cape Torokina, which formed the Bay’s upper hook. Cape Torokina’s beaches were known to be lightly defended. Its central location suggested that it would take the Japanese months to mount a massive counterattack against it.
But the 20,000 men of the Third, with the attached Second Raider Regiment, would not sail straight for Torokina. Their convoy would rather make straight for Kahili. After having been seen, the convoy would sneak west and north under cover of night to effect the dawn landing at Torokina.
