Invasion Rabaul (22 page)

Within the South Seas Detachment, Lieutenant Colonel Kuwada’s 3rd Infantry Battalion had been the least affected. During the first few days of mopping up, they collected more than two hundred Australian prisoners between Vunakanau and the Warangoi River. Some, like young “Norrie”
Kennedy, were captured despite elaborate attempts at evasion. After escaping into the jungle with Lieutenant Dawson on January 23, Kennedy made his way to a native hospital near Kokopo. Nurses tried to hide him among the other patients by covering his skin with black shoe polish, but the Japanese saw through the disguise and took him prisoner.

After their initial successes, however, the 3rd Battalion was reluctant to pursue the Australians beyond the Warangoi River. Again, the deciding factor was malaria. Although the disease had not ravaged Kuwada’s troops as badly as the 1st and 2nd Battalions, the mere threat of it was enough to deter Kuawada from conducting a prolonged overland pursuit. Instead,
Major General Horii implemented a change in tactics after Kuwada’s men returned to Kokopo at the end of January. Relying on floatplanes, ships, and foot patrols for reconnaissance, Horii monitored the Australians’ progress toward the south for several days. When he learned that a large force of Australians had gathered
“in the forests north of Wide Bay,” he ordered Kuwada “to carry out a pursuit by boats.”

On the morning of February 2, approximately 150 soldiers of the 8th Company, led by Lieutenant Tadaichi Noda, boarded five Daihatsu landing craft at Kokopo. The boats were fitted with benches, canvas awnings, and facilities for cooking, and one of them even had a 75mm field gun lashed to its floorboards. Towed south by a larger vessel, the landing craft reached Wide Bay at dawn the next day. After rounding a promontory called Tongue Point, the small convoy turned north into a smaller inlet called Henry Reid Bay. In the middle of the bay, the landing craft cast off their towlines and surged ahead under their own power. As the Daihatsus approached the beach, Noda’s men fired a few rounds from the field gun and sent several bursts of machine-gun fire into the branches of the palm trees.

D
AWN ON
F
EBRUARY 3 FOUND MORE THAN TWO HUNDRED MEMBERS OF
L
ARK
Force in the vicinity of Wide Bay. Approximately seventy were living in the plantation house at Tol or at nearby Waitavalo, a smaller plantation approximately a mile beyond Tol on Henry Reid Bay. The rest were either camped in small groups among the vast coconut groves or were approaching Tol on native trails.

Those who had been at Wide Bay the longest were disheartened. Having struggled for days to reach Tol, where they had high expectations of rescue, they were bitterly disappointed that no had come for them. Little did they know that the War Cabinet had decided weeks ago not to attempt any relief missions.

The rabble had not posted lookouts. When the Japanese suddenly appeared and began shooting from their landing craft, the Australians were caught completely by surprise. Some ran into the jungle, but most were too demoralized to put up resistance. Twenty-two men, evidently led by Sandy Robertson, walked out to the beach carrying a white flag as soon as the firing stopped. They waited patiently near the water’s edge, and within minutes were surrounded by Noda’s soldiers.

Other Japanese troops fanned out and began rounding up the Australians. A few managed to escape, the largest group made up of four young privates who hid in the jungle for several hours, then started walking northward through the jungle. They crossed the mountainous spine of New Britain and walked all the way to Open Bay, where they were eventually rescued. They were the exception, however. Almost all of the hungry, unkempt Australians at Tol were captured with little or no difficulty.

The terrain itself made escape unlikely. The Henry
Reid River was wide, swift, and deep—too hazardous to cross without a boat or canoe—and it had several winding tributaries that created a labyrinth of channels. About sixty men were trapped there, including Bill Collins of the 2/10 Field Ambulance. He and several other Australians were crawling in a shallow stream when they heard the sound of laughter behind them. Turning around, they saw several Japanese soldiers watching them with amused looks. With simple hand signals, the Japanese directed them to get to their feet and then escorted them to the beach. Shortly thereafter, the
captured Australians were put aboard a landing craft and delivered to Tol.

By nightfall approximately 170 Australians had been locked inside a large hut at Tol that formerly housed native laborers. The prisoners were not abused, and they even received a hot meal of rice. Throughout the night, Japanese guards kept several bonfires going to illuminate the surroundings and discourage any ideas of escape, but the effort was hardly needed. The Australians were too weary and demoralized to mount any sort of organized resistance, and their first day of imprisonment at Tol ended quietly.

The situation changed dramatically the next morning. According to one account, Noda became impatient while the ration of rice for breakfast was being cooked. With much shouting and gesturing, he ordered the prisoners to line up outside the hut. A young lieutenant, possibly Glenn Garrard of D Company, was singled out and harshly interrogated by Noda, who was assisted by a mean-spirited interpreter known as Sungai. When Garrard failed to provide the correct responses, he was clubbed on the head and torso with a stout wooden stick until he collapsed. Revived with water, he endured more questioning and severe beating. Finally, too
dazed to stand on his own, he was left shirtless in the scorching sun, his arms tied around a palm tree.

The rest of the prisoners were marched to the plantation house, where an attempt was made to identify the twenty-two men who had surrendered on the beach the previous morning. About forty soldiers claimed to have been part of that group, confounding the Japanese, but eventually two officers and twenty others were pulled out of formation and led away.

Next, the Japanese questioned the remaining captives as to name, rank, and serial number. They were thoroughly searched, and all personal items—identity discs, watches, rings, pay books, and photographs—were tossed in a heap on the ground. Finally, the prisoners’ hands were tied behind their backs, most with their thumbs bound tightly together. The Australians were then arranged in lines of six to twelve men and tied together with assorted ropes, cords, or even their own belts. Allowed to sit back down, they received water, and some were permitted to share cigarettes.

The Japanese set up a two-way radio and established communications with a base unit, presumably headquarters at Rabaul. An exchange of messages generated much excitement among Noda’s men, who then ordered the prisoners back on their feet. In ragged-looking groups, they were marched away from the house in different directions, each closely escorted by several soldiers armed with rifles and long bayonets.

In 1942 the great majority of Japanese troops carried the 6.5mm Arisaka Model 38, a long but relatively light rifle that boasted almost no recoil. The weapon also had another important attribute, as described in a U.S. Army intelligence bulletin: “The length of the Model 38 makes it particularly suitable for bayonet fighting. When the Japanese infantryman is armed with this rifle and the Model 30 (1897) bayonet, which is also unusually long, he feels that in close combat he is a match for his larger and taller enemies.” The Imperial Army placed a heavy emphasis on
bayonet fighting. Recruits spent hours practicing such moves as the “side-step thrust,” the “low body thrust,” and the “body contact thrust.” At this point in the war, few members of the South Seas Detachment, if any, had personally experienced hand-to-hand combat. They didn’t know what it felt like to pierce a man’s body with the thin, fifteen-inch-long blade affixed to the end of their rifles. But on the morning of February 4, many of Noda’s men would find out.

R
IFLEMAN
A
LFRED
L. “A
LF
” R
OBINSON, THIRTY-EIGHT, A RESIDENT OF
Rabaul who had joined the NGVR only three days before the invasion, found himself in a column of prisoners being marched single file into the coconut groves. For some reason the former clerk was not roped to the other captives, though his thumbs were bound tightly together behind his back. Observing the bayonets on the Japanese soldiers’ rifles and the short-handled spades they carried, he suspected that the Australians were about to be executed. A terrible noise from a nearby grove confirmed his hunch.
“An agonized scream was heard,” he later remarked, “and the whole line halted to listen.”

The escorts motioned for the column to resume marching. Soon thereafter, Robinson spotted a sharp bend in the trail up ahead. Heavy vegetation temporarily hid the captives at the front of the line, and when Robinson reached the bend he made a split-second decision. Jumping sideways off the path, he ducked into the undergrowth. The man behind him whispered, “Lower, Sport,” letting Robinson know that he needed to crawl deeper into the bushes. The other captives kept silent, and the guards passed by without noticing his absence.

Although he was safe for the time being, Robinson discovered that he could not loosen the bindings on his fast-swelling thumbs. Thus, a whole new ordeal began. The jungle was inhospitable enough for an able-bodied man, but now he was alone in the wilds with his hands tied behind his back.

A
MBULANCE DRIVER
B
ILL
C
OLLINS WAS THE LAST MAN IN ANOTHER COLUMN
of prisoners being marched into the coconut groves. The Japanese officer leading the way called a halt, and the Australians were directed to sit on the ground. Unsheathing his sword, the officer sliced the rope connecting the first captive in line with the others, but it was not for freedom’s sake. The Australian was motioned to his feet, then a soldier with a fixed bayonet guided him into the underbrush. Collins heard a scream, and a few moments later the Japanese soldier reappeared, wiping his bayonet. One by one, the other prisoners were led away and executed. Finally, only Collins and two other Australians remained. The next captive in line suddenly jumped up and attempted to flee, but he ran awkwardly with his hands tied behind
his back. The officer swiftly closed the distance, slashed the Australian with his sword, then drew his sidearm and shot the prisoner in the back.

At this, Private Thomas B. Clissold, an orderly with the 2/10 Field Ambulance, tried to protest by pointing to the Red Cross brassards he and Collins wore. The officer ripped them from their uniforms. Defiantly, Clissold indicated with his hands that he’d rather be shot than bayoneted. The officer complied, shooting Clissold where he sat.

Collins was now alone with the officer.
“He put away his sword and took a rifle and motioned me to get up and walk,” Collins later stated. “I took a few paces and he shot me through the shoulder. I fell to the ground and kept still. He fired again and hit me through both wrists and in the back. He decided he had finished me and went away.”

After playing dead for as long as he could, Collins began to stir. He discovered that his hands were free. Miraculously, the second bullet had cut the cord binding his wrists. Although he was bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds, he managed to get on his feet and stagger away from the terrible killing grounds.

C
LIFFORD
M
ARSHALL, A THIRTY-ONE-YEAR-OLD LANCE CORPORAL FROM
Prahran, Victoria, was in another group of prisoners taken deep into the coconut groves for execution. Like the others, his column was halted at a quiet spot, and then the killing began. One at a time the captives were led into the jungle by a Japanese soldier, and those left behind could hear the victims cry out. It was obvious the Japanese were using bayonets.

According to Marshall’s later testimony, they were sloppy about finishing the job.

When my turn came I was motioned to move off into the bush. There was a Japanese soldier walking behind me. I sort of turned, my hands being tied behind my back, to see what he was doing. I saw that he was making a rush at me with the bayonet. I received three wounds: one in the back just under the shoulder blades, not very deep, another through the arm and into the side, and another into the side lower down.

It came to me naturally to lie still and sham dead. I could hear cries from the other men for a while and then a lot of shooting.

Bleeding profusely, Marshall was able to squirm into the underbrush. He eventually freed his hands, then began moving through the plantation at dusk. After finding the bodies of several friends, he wandered among the coconut groves in a state of shock, lost and alone.

T
HE PREVIOUS NIGHT HAD BEEN A LONG AND TROUBLING ONE FOR
S
CANLAN
, Selby, and the others in their party. Warned in the nick of time about the Japanese landing craft, they had debated late into the night about whether or not to surrender. The realists argued that even if they got away from Tol, the Japanese would simply set another trap along the coast. Also, their families were anxious for any news, having heard nothing from Lark Force in weeks; if nothing else, they would be relieved to learn that the men were still alive, even as prisoners of war.

Selby refused to give up, but he almost changed his mind the next morning. While sitting alongside a stream to think about his options, he pulled out his wallet to look at snapshots of his family and discovered the photos were missing. Most likely they had washed away during one of the many river crossings. Totally dejected, he considered the loss of the photos “an evil and
terrible omen.”

Later that morning, he rejoined the party and was searching through some old huts when he heard gunfire from the direction of Tol.
“An excited native rushed into the village,” he explained, “and said that the Japanese were killing all the pigs they could find, whereupon, to our great disgust, they drove into the jungle the two pigs which had been rooting around the village. (We had been casting greedy eyes at the fatter of the two.) The firing which continued sporadically throughout the morning seemed to be unduly heavy for a pig hunt, but that explanation sounded as plausible as any other and we did not give the matter further thought.”