The jungle was awesome in spots and to this day I regard the Buna district as the worst fighting terrain in the world.
[...]
New Guinea is very rough country and we were constantly warned of the diseases we could catch from various insects in the kunai grass if we did not keep our leggings on at all times and keep dosed with insect repellents, etc. We religiously obeyed all instructions, not being idiots, but a few months later I was prowling through all kinds of tropical brush with my sleeves rolled up, my pants ending halfway between knee and ankle, my feet in jungle boots cut off at the ankle and no sign of socks, leggings, insect repellent, head nets or other “necessary equipment.” I was not only wide open to any insect onslaught, but I did not give a damn, any more.
[...]
Of all the mountains I have seen, the Owen Stanley range is the most fear-inspiring. They look as though they were designed expressly as a man-trap. For some reason I felt uncomfortable every time I looked at them. I have no desire whatever to see any part of New Guinea again.
[...]
Morale was very high, compared with most of the divisions in the Pacific, and the high percentage of regular army men made it well disciplined, in the sense of the word as applied in its proper meaning. The regular is almost always a pretty quiet, cooperative character. To an inexperienced onlooker, the Cavalry might have seemed to get things bolixed up and trip over its own feet, in a lot of little things, but compared with the rest of the divisions out there it did not vibrate any more than a new electric refrigerator.
[...]
The division commander, Major General Verne D. Mudge, was liked and highly respected. He was one of the very, very few “hard” or strict, garrison officers who was a good fighting leader. Ordinarily the detested inspection-crazed, salute-silly ranker proves a total washout in battle. He cannot relax and adapt himself to the conditions where results mean more than military routine and where Louie, the private who always needed a shave, turns out to be a better man than the deep-voiced sergeant who wore his uniform so well and stood so straight back in the States.
[...]
General Mudge was liked, not only for his good strategy and the fact that he made the plans but for the reason that he usually went up the line to help carry them out. He wore his stars in sight of the Japs more than once. Perhaps from the coldblooded general-staff view it was not intelligent for a valuable leader to risk his neck, but the Cavalry was always proud that its general was no swivel-chair boss back in the rear who sent men out to fight while keeping his hide safe. My own feeling is that the General was right in sticking his neck out once in awhile, for he not only learned what the foxhole private knew but knew but his appearance up where the bullets popped when they passed raised the morale and respect of the whole division enough to write off the risk as paid in full.
[...]
I was not assigned to any specific organization within the division and soon learned why. A few days before leaving the Admiralties and embarking for the Philippines, General Mudge himself came out and gave us a speech; “us” was the 200 or 300 unassigned men. We were to act as an emergency shore or landing party, to support the line troops by unloading and forwarding supplies for a couple of days until the regular port battalions got in; then we were to go into the line as casualty replacements. The more I learned the less I liked the prospective position. I should have realized that major generals do not usually come around to welcome replacements, even on special missions. I do not think he expected to see us any more, as the immediate beach strip on Jap-held island installations was not exactly the safest place to spend the first few days and nights during an attack. When I did get on the LSM (Landing Ship, Medium) for the trip up I realized I was in a spot. The armored rowboat was loaded with tanks and tankdozers, which were Sherman tanks with seven-ton bulldozer blades on them. That meant we were going on the beach early in the program.
[...]
We had a couple of M1s and a lot of beat-up Springfields, mostly low-number jobs. A few carbines were procured the night we sailed. I traded off my new M1 I’d been issued in New Guinea for a fair Springfield with a pistol-grip stock and rebedded and tuned up the ’03 during the voyage. Also made a canvas case for it, which proved invaluable, after we landed.
[...]
One soldier of my lot had a very bad barrel on his rifle and when I got him a new carbine he practically kissed me, then begged for permission—”I been wanting to do this ever since I got in the army, Sarge, how about it, please?”—; so I let him throw the rifle overboard, piece by piece. I could see him mentally reviewing the basic brow-beatings he had received concerning the holiness of the rifle, the inspections he had gone through and the pain he had undergone caring for a gun he had not been allowed to shoot, back in the training camps. Well, now the guy was up to the last chapter in the book and it was up to him to keep his weapons working right instead of just looking pretty and clean on the outside. We could not save the old rifle so let him enjoy himself. If he is alive today he has a pleasant memory of the time, anyway.
[...]
Some had done all their drilling with 1917 Enfields and did not understand anything about M1′s or ’03′s.
[...]
Many times I used to think about the tales I had heard and the stories I had read about World War I rookies arriving in the trenches without knowing how to load their rifles and how “That could never happen again.” It did, brother, it did.
[...]
The sense of responsibility kept me pretty sober. I was learning the line non-com’s job and didn’t enjoy it. Any mistake I made was liable to kill somebody so my judgment had better be good.
[...]
We ate with the Navy, so were happy—the Navy always eats much better than the Army—since we were used to corned beef and dehydrated potatoes. The Naval vessels can carry a lot of fresh food the land forces cannot take care of, I guess. The soldiers stocked up on bread and butter and fresh potatoes and meat, for there would not be anything like that for us after we landed.
[...]
Gas masks had been discarded, but some of us had saved the canvas bags from them and used them for holding our belongings.
[...]
Each man took what he wanted, but we were advised in the Admiralties to take as little as possible, even to throw away messkits. I held to mine and advised the men to do the same, and I also had extra footwear—a pair of jungle boots I had collected. These were a calf-high green canvas and black rubber outfit designed for sneaking up on the Nip. They could not be kept on for any length of time without causing foot trouble, as feet perspired profusely in them. Hardly anyone liked them as issued, though they were popular for relief wear when cut to ankle height. I liked them for wear around water, where any shoe or boot would get wet anyway, and they were ideal for shipboard use, the non-slip soles working swell on smooth plates and ladders.
[...]
A few men had extra canteens, which was a good idea, as known healthy drinking water would be scarce until the engineers got ashore and set up water points.
[...]
Ammunition was scarce for the carbines, but plentiful for the M1′s and Springfields, except that we had hardly any clips for the ’03′s. I went ashore myself with two loaded clips and a pocketful of loose ammunition.
[...]
We had at the last been issued jungle first-aid packets, and these were one of the items which showed some intelligence on the part of the QM equipment inventors. They had the usual bandage, a few band-aids, or adhesive tape and gauze combinations, sulfa tablets and waterproof containers of atabrine, halazone tablets (for water purification), iodine and a bottle of a solution for treating athlete’s foot and rashes in general. A bottle of insect repellent was also included.
