Bloody Ridge: The Battle That Saved Guadalcanal - Softcover

Smith, Michael T.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0743463218 ISBN 13: 9780743463218

Publisher: Pocket, 2003

Synopsis

September 1942: American forces landed on the island of Guadalcanal, engaging the entrenched Japanese in what would be remembered as some of the worst fighting of World War II. The key to victory lay in controlling the ridge overlooking Henderson Field, a vital airfield and the prize of the Guadalcanal campaign. This was the site of a savage, three-day clash that would test the mettle of both sides. Launching a series of vicious attacks on successive nights, a vastly superior force of battle-hardened Japanese somehow lost to a mongrel battalion of Col. "Red Mike" Edson's malnourished, sickly Marines in what became known as the Battle of Bloody Ridge. The surprising victory marked the first significant Japanese defeat in the war, saved the airfield, and gave the small, under-supplied American force time to receive supplies and reinforcements. This is the true story of that harrowing battle, when the fate of the war in the Pacific would rest with those who were tough enough to take Bloody Ridge. INCLUDES BATTLE MAPS AND HISTORICAL PHOTOS

About this title

About the Author

Michael S. Smith is an active duty naval officer and a life-long student of the Guadalcanal campaign. A communications expert, Smith has served in the U.S. Navy for more than twenty years and is currently stationed in Washington State, where he lives with his wife and four sons. Bloody Ridge is his first book.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One: Marooned on Cactus

"We Are All Well and Happy"

A warm rain fell intermittently on Guadalcanal Island throughout the night of 8 August 1942. Restful sleep came to few Americans of the newly landed 1st Marine Division amidst the naval gunfire, mosquitoes, and moisture of the night. Soon after daybreak on the 9th, key officers of the division began to assemble at the division command post nestled along the shore near Block Four River. They were a "sorry-looking lot," with bloodshot eyes, unshaven faces, and dirty fatigues. They huddled under coconut trees and around a small fire and sipped hot coffee from hash tins to keep warm. A heavy mist obscured their seaward view, where sporadic firing from a large-caliber naval gun could be heard (this was an American warship finishing off the Australian heavy cruiser Canberra, one of four cruisers that fell victim to the Japanese navy the night before). The concussion of each blast shook the leaves in the trees overhead, showering the marines below with dislodged water droplets.

The division commander, Maj. Gen. Alexander A. Vandegrift, had summoned these officers to his command post for an important meeting. To the casual observer, Vandegrift's looks were deceiving. The balding, fifty-five-year-old Virginian resembled a schoolteacher more than a Marine Corps general. His personality did not fit the stereotypical mold of a marine general, but Vandegrift was a tough and gifted leader who knew how to get the most out of his men. The soft-spoken commander possessed a quiet, gentlemanly demeanor that radiated both optimism and determination. On Guadalcanal, he would need both. But Vandegrift's previous assignments had prepared him for the trials that lay ahead. He already had a taste of jungle warfare, having fought in the tropics of Central America and the Caribbean during the so-called "banana wars." In the 1930s Vandegrift helped develop the Marine Corps's amphibious warfare doctrine. Now, he was leading ground forces in this, the nation's first offensive and first amphibious operation of the war.

In the moist and misty setting at his command post, Vandegrift described the general situation to his officers. He candidly told them what little he knew about the naval battle, but the scores of wounded sailors on the beach and the faint outline of the heavy cruiser Chicago with its bow blown off provided unsettling evidence of a defeat. He also explained that the carriers providing air cover for the landing had withdrawn, and that the transports with most of the division's supplies and equipment would follow by day's end. In a reassuring yet firm tone, Vandegrift told his deputies that as long as he could help it, Guadalcanal would not be remembered as another Wake Island or Bataan. He also explained that the task of holding the beachhead depended on three urgent tasks: fortification of the beaches to repel enemy attacks, dispersal of the division's cargo piled up on the beach, and completion and repair of the newly captured airstrip. Although the airstrip was nearly completed by the Japanese, a 200-foot gap and depression in the center needed filling and leveling.

The operations officer (D-3) and "spark plug" of the division, Lt. Col. Gerald C. Thomas, then stood up to issue the basic defense order. He announced that, according to naval intelligence, the Japanese were massing ships and assault troops at Rabaul and that an enemy counterattack was possible within ninety-six hours. With this threat from the sea in mind, Thomas explained that the division would defend their toehold at the Lunga beaches. The frontage would consist of two regimental sectors with the Lunga River forming a natural boundary: Col. Leroy Hunt's 5th Marine Regiment (less one battalion, which was on Tulagi) would defend the left or western sector, while Col. Clifton Cates's 1st Marine Regiment (less one battalion, which was held in division reserve) would defend the right or eastern sector. The three artillery battalions of Col. Pedro Del Valle's 11th Marines would support each sector from central firing positions near the airstrip. Glancing momentarily at Vandegrift, then back at the assembled officers, Colonel Thomas emphatically stated that no ground be given up without the express permission of the division commander.

With a Japanese counterattack imminent, fortification of the beaches began immediately after Vandegrift's order. Although all units were in place before dusk on the 9th, completion of the field fortifications took longer. The main effort focused on the construction of defensive strong points, composed of a company of tanks, which were dug in and camouflaged with palm fronds, and two batteries of 37mm antitank guns of the 1st Special Weapons Battalion. The lack of engineering equipment, shovels, and barbed wire (only eighteen spools were on hand) hampered the entrenching effort and made the task difficult and time-consuming.

Hugging the Lunga Point coastline, the beach defenses stretched a length of 9,600 yards. The left or western flank was anchored on a high ridge about 1,000 yards southwest of a small village called Kukum, and extended eastward around Lunga Point to the western bank of the Ilu River. The long, unobstructed shoreline with clear lanes of fire presented what one marine officer called "a machine gunner's dream." Vandegrift's reserve consisted of only one company of tanks, four 75mm self-propelled howitzers, and a single rifle battalion -- the 1st Battalion, 1st Marines.

The small portion of beach defended by Sgt. Ben Selvitelle's light machine gun section of Company L, 3d Battalion, 5th Marines, was typical of Vandegrift's scheme. Flanked by a coconut grove on one side and thick jungle on the other, Selvitelle's sector was fronted by a thin strand of barbed wire, behind which sat two .30-caliber machine guns and a dozen marines armed with rifles. But that wasn't all. The line was bolstered by two 60mm mortars and a 37mm antitank gun, capable of wreaking havoc on enemy landing boats. The battalion's four 81mm mortars and a battery of 75mm howitzers of the 11th Marines were capable of rendering additional support. A regimental half-track mounting a 75mm gun was also available on call.

A vital component of the Lunga defenses was the thirty-two howitzers of Colonel Del Valle's 11th Marines. Sited in central positions around the airfield, these howitzers could hit any threatened point in the Lunga defense. The most common weapon of the artillery regiment's inventory was the M8A1 75mm pack howitzer. Weighing 1,269 pounds, it fired a 13.7-pound shell up to 9,750 yards. The pack howitzer, however, was hardly more effective than the 81mm mortar and was considered too light for general support. In contrast, the M2A1 105mm howitzer was the most celebrated U.S. artillery piece in the war and would remain in service until the Vietnam War. Operated by a nine-man crew, the "105" could fire a thirty-three-pound shell 12,200 yards. The impact of each shell was 50 percent lethal within a radius of twenty meters. The gun weighed 4,980 pounds, and had a maximum elevation of 65 degrees.

One risky element of Vandegrift's defensive scheme was the heavily jungled inland flank. Lacking rifle battalions, Vandegrift ordered support battalions to bivouac south of the airstrip to provide some kind of deterrent. Particularly worrisome was a narrow, grassy ridge only 1,700 yards south of the airfield. Like a dagger, it pointed at the airfield -- the division's future lifeline. Vandegrift countered this danger by placing the 1st Engineer Battalion near the ridge and assigning the battalion a security mission to patrol it during the night. Another avenue of possible enemy exploitation was down the Lunga River, fordable throughout its upper reaches. The division countered this threat by posting elements of the 1st Pioneer Battalion on each bank of the river.

More than ninety miles long and twenty-five miles wide, Guadalcanal Island -- code-named "Cactus" by the Americans -- was large, but the territory occupied by Vandegrift's division was tiny. Indeed, the division's toehold was no larger than twelve miles square. Until reinforced, prudence dictated confinement to this toehold. But the general had one thing in his favor and that was Guadalcanal's hellish terrain. Jagged ridges, impenetrable swamps, and thick jungle encroached upon the division's toehold at Lunga Point from the south, east, and west. Unless the Japanese chose to make a forced landing at Lunga Point, they would have to traverse this inhospitable terrain in the agonizing heat and humidity -- no easy task for even the battle-hardened Japanese.

Late in the afternoon of 9 August, General Vandegrift watched Admiral Turner's transports sail away, wildly maneuvering at high speed. These vessels departed with such haste that many left with their boats still ashore. The marines were rightfully concerned and disgusted with the withdrawal. While gazing at the spectacle, Vandegrift turned to Lt. Col. Bill Twining, the assistant D-3, and asked, "Bill, what has happened to your navy?" Twining answered, "I don't believe the first team is on the field yet, general." The 10,819 marines on Guadalcanal were on their own (see Table 1).

Table 1
Unit Strength of the 1st Marine Division Arrayed for the Landing on Guadalcanal

1st Marine Division Headquarters 371
1st Special Weapons Battalion two 37mm antitank gun batteries,one 75mm self-propelled battery, and one 40mm antiaircraft battery) 498
1st Tank Battalion (less two companies) 346
H&S Company (2)
Scout Company (64)
Company A (eighteen M3A1 Stuart light tanks) (142)
Company B (eighteen M3A1 Stuart light tanks) (138)
1st Service Battalion 367
1st Medical Battalion 327
1st Amphibian Tractor Battalion 452
1st Engineer Battalion 586
1st Pioneer Battalion 703
11th Marine Artillery Regiment 1,947
H&S Battery (144)
Special Weapons Battery (168)
2d Battalion (eight 75mm Howitzers) (411)
3d Battalion (twelve 75mm Howitzers) (585)
5th Battalion (twelve 105mm Howitzers) (639)
1st Marine Regiment 3,130
H&S Company (157)
Weapons Company (195)
1st Battalion (922)
2d Battalion (929)
3d Battalion (927)
5th Marine Regiment 2,142
H&S Company (147)
Weapons Company (197)
1st Battalion (893)
3d Battalion (905)
Attached: 3d Defense Battalion 480

Total: 11,349*

* Approximately 500 marines, retained for stevedore duty on the transports, never landed because of the hasty withdrawal of the navy on 9 August.
Source: Final Report, I, Annex K.

As Vandegrift watched Admiral Turner's transports precipitously sail off, the division staff relocated his command post from the beach to a permanent, inland position. Vandegrift chose a wooded site northwest of the airfield and next to a small coral ridge. The command post was, by any account, primitive. Lacking permanent structures, the division staff salvaged a couple of Japanese tarpaulins -- one for Vandegrift and the other for the headquarters office. Inside the latter were two telephones, a desk, and a small safe for securing classified documents. Vandegrift's tent had few amenities but included a few pieces of furniture salvaged from the home of a deposed plantation owner. Due to its proximity to the airfield, the command post soon acquired the name "impact center."

While Vandegrift's staff established some degree of permanency, work began on the most important and most difficult job facing the division -- completion and repair of the Lunga airstrip. Vandegrift assigned the task to Maj. Jim Frazer's excellent 1st Engineer Battalion. It was a big job, requiring heavy earth-moving machines, but none of that equipment had been landed. The marines overcame this obstacle by employing the captured Japanese equipment that had not been damaged by the pre-invasion bombardment. Although the 3,778-foot runway lacked taxiways, revetments, and an adequate drainage system, the engineers declared the airfield usable on 16 August.

Vandegrift christened the airstrip Henderson Field in honor of Maj. Lofton R. Henderson, a marine squadron commander who gave his life at the Battle of Midway. The occasion was marked by a brief ceremony on Pagoda Hill, which included the raising of a tiny ensign removed from a disabled Higgins boat. On the 12th, the first American aircraft, a PBY Catalina, touched down on Henderson Field. The pilot of the aircraft, Lt. W. S. Simpson, deemed the airfield suitable for fighter aircraft only. Before he departed, Vandegrift handed Simpson a letter addressed to his immediate superior, Rear Admiral Turner. In it Vandegrift told Turner, "We are all well and happy," but warned "that if we are to hold this place that the 7th [Marines] be sent up."

While work progressed on the airfield, the 1st Pioneer Battalion performed the backbreaking task of dispersing supplies. Although Turner left with most of Vandegrift's supplies and equipment, dispersing what was ashore was difficult and time-consuming. Mounds of boxes and crates lined the shore from Block Four River to Beach Red where the initial landing had taken place. Every available vehicle, including the amphibious tractors, was used to transport supplies to inland dumps. The amphibious tractor, with its large cargo capacity and ability to travel practically anywhere except in the thick jungle, was especially valuable. The job was completed on the 11th. Until then, the supplies were extremely vulnerable to enemy air or sea attack. Fortunately for the marines, the Japanese failed to capitalize on this excellent opportunity to deal the Yankee invaders a serious blow.

One of Vandegrift's many concerns was the division's supply of food. The navy's pullout left the 1st Marine Division with just a small fraction of what it needed for a sustained period of occupation. Vandegrift ordered the division quartermaster, Lt. Col. Ray Coffman, to provide an accurate count of the food on hand. After tallying the figures, Coffman returned with a disturbing report that Turner had landed no more than five days' worth of rations. Including captured stocks, this meant that the division on 9 August had enough food for only fourteen days. It was an alarming situation requiring drastic action. Because of the shortage, Vandegrift immediately placed the division on half-rations at two meals per day.

Unfortunately, Vandegrift could tell no one about the supply problem, because he had no radio transmitter capable of reaching New Zealand, where his superior, Vice Admiral Ghormley, was located. (The radios the division possessed, such as the TBX, had a range of only twenty miles.) Marine ingenuity, however, overcame this obstacle. Before the marines landed, the Japanese had nearly completed the installation of a powerful short-wave radio station. Even though he did not know how to read Japanese, Master Sergeant Ferranto of the 1st Signal Company started tinkering with the transmitter and, after three sleepless nights, got it working with about 500 watts of power.

Admiral Ghormley's staff looked upon Radio Guadalcanal's attempt to raise them with some degree of skepticism. Ghormley replied by asking Vandegrift to report his situation briefly and to authenticate the response by giving the names of the ships on which Vandegrift last saw RAdm. Daniel Callaghan. In his first radio message to Admiral Turner on the 13th, Vandegrift reported that he had only ten days of rations on hand (including captured stocks). Turner obstinately answered that he had put ashore more than fifty days' worth, a figure with which Vandegrift violently disagreed. Turner later acknowledged his error but did so secretly -- by letter.

Life on Guadalcanal

As the marines worked at strengthening their toehold on Guadalcanal Island, they encountered myriad problems acclimating themselves to their new tropical surroundings. Although coconut groves lined the north coast of the island, inhospitable jungle covered most of Guadalcanal. Sanitation and the living conditions for the Americans were primitive. Making life on this strange island even more difficult for the newcomers was the climate. The heat and humidity were unbearable. Diseases, such as dysentery, malaria, and a host of other ailments, were rife. The island was home to centipedes, bush rats, and tarantulas, as well as land crabs, iguanas, and fiery red ants. For city dwellers who had little experience in the wild, let alone the tropics, pests such as these (which had a penchant for crawling over the unwary at night) were troublesome and unnerving.

Private First Class Edward Fee of the 1st Pioneer Battalion recalled one such encounter on a rainy night shortly after the invasion. Exposed to the elements, Fee propped his head up on a small, innocent looking dirt mound in order to keep his head off the wet ground. When he awoke the next morning, Fee was horrified to discover that the mound was the home of biting red ants. Hundreds of the tiny insects had burrowed into his scalp, leaving it raw and bloodied. During the day, a friend who helped pick the tiny critters out of his scalp told Fee he felt like a preening zoo monkey.

Fee's encounter made light of the division's sleeping arrangements. "We slept on the ground," recalled Pfc. Robert Amery, a member of Company A, 5th Marines. "We each had a rubber poncho and we slept on that. If it rained, we put the poncho, or half of it, over us to keep us as dry as we could. We slept beside our foxholes. Everyone had his own foxhole, except for some high-ranking officers, who had sandbagged dugouts." These sleeping arrangements were obviously unsatisfactory, and within a few weeks, the marines began constructing small shelters or lean-tos out of scraps of wood or anything else they could get their hands on.

Private Amery also recalled another fact of life on Guadalcanal: "You had your rifle or other weapon beside you at all times. You never went anywhere without your rifle," he stressed. "Very soon it became automatic, you just always picked it up and carried it on your shoulder no matter where you went, and if you found yourself without it you felt naked."

The nights during the first week on the island were extremely unsettling for jittery eighteen-, nineteen-, and twenty-year-old marine sentries expecting a face-to-face encounter with the Japanese at any moment. The wildlife and the domesticated horses and bovines set loose after the landing did little to alleviate the tension. "Get used to the weird noises. This jungle is not still at night," complained Cpl. E. J. Byrne of Company L, 5th Marines. "The land crabs and lizards make a hell of a noise rustling on leaves. And there is a bird here that sounds like a man banging two blocks of wood together. There is another bird that makes a noise like a dog barking." These sounds, which seemed amplified in the stillness of the night, not only made nights tense for sentries but also made sleep difficult, because it was hard to distinguish between animal, friend, and foe.

This inability to differentiate between animal, friend, and foe in the night brought on unfortunate cases of friendly fire. A few nights after the invasion, a nervous sentry took a shot at Colonels Cates and Leroy Hunt after a late-night meeting, but, in the words of Cates, "luckily he was an artilleryman and made a clean miss." On 10 August trigger-happy sentries of the 1st Marines fired at each other in the dark, creating pandemonium and quite a few casualties, though no one was killed. Two other marines, however, were not so fortunate. On the 10th, a leatherneck of the 1st Marines was shot dead in his tracks by his startled tentmate, a navy corpsman, after the leatherneck made a late-night nature call. A similar incident occurred the following night, when an officer of the 11th Marines accidentally shot and killed one of his sergeants with a .45-caliber pistol.

As tragic and uncertain as the nights were on this strange, new island, one incident at a two-man marine listening post afforded comic relief. A few nights after arriving, Pvt. George Haertlein was awakened by his partner, Pvt. Gene Bentley.

"There's something out there," Bentley, whispered.

"Where?" Haertlein asked. "I don't see anything."

"A little to the left, looks like eyes."

"Jap eyes glow in the dark?" Haertlein asked.

"No one said," answered Bentley.

"You go, you saw it first."

"You go, you're older," charged Bentley.

Haertlein volunteered to attack the intruder. Adhering to strict instructions to shoot only as a last resort, Haertlein got up on one knee and charged the "eyes" at full-speed with his bayonet. After four or five full strides, Haertlein come to an abrupt stop after impaling a tree. The "eyes" that Bentley saw were actually two spots of phosphorescent moss.

As a further means of acclimating his men to their tropical environment, Vandegrift ordered the regiments (including the 11th Marines at Colonel Del Valle's insistence) to mount vigorous patrols into the jungle in search of the enemy. At first, the inexperienced, often sleepless, marines were overcautious. With time, however, as they pushed deeper into the bush, they became increasingly surer of themselves. After a few days, these patrols began capturing Korean construction workers who had escaped from their Japanese taskmasters. The marines captured thirty-two prisoners on 12 August alone. This success greatly increased their confidence and aggressiveness. Nerves became calmer, the men became better rested and more alert, and nocturnal shootings of wildlife and other marines became less common.

As the marines became steadier and surer of their new surroundings, another more acute problem began to afflict the division. Sanitary laxness promoted a severe strain of dysentery, which made men weak and took pounds off in a single day. Some of the more serious cases required sufferers to visit latrines up to thirty times a day. By mid-August, one man out of five was afflicted with the debilitating sickness. "Dysentery has swept the battalion," wrote Pfc. Jim Donahue of the 2d Battalion, 1st Marines, a few weeks after the landing. "I am very hard hit with dysentery, having had it now for fifteen days. My rectum is the most painful thing on me. I can't get to sleep to the wee hours of the morning. By the time I get to sleep, I am a nervous wreck." Vandegrift ordered medical personnel to establish better sanitation to halt the spread of the debilitating sickness, but it remained an ongoing, albeit lesser, problem for much of the campaign.

Strict rationing and the poor quality of the division's food also took its toll on the health of the marines. The menu was monotonous and provided little nutritional value; they ate a scoop of rice or oatmeal in the morning and the same in the late afternoon. Forced to work and fight while subsisting on such a diet left many men weak and debilitated. "The food was terrible," recalled Edward Fee. "The rice had lots of protein, bugs and worms. We ate it but we did not look carefully. Sometimes they found some catsup or tomato-paste, but usually it was plain fried rice." For a little variety, the marines sometimes ate coconuts, but these contributed to the ever-present problem of what one marine called "the trots."

Private John L. Joseph of the 2d Battalion, 1st Marines, also recalled the meals on Guadalcanal: "During the early days on the island, chow was scarce. The cooks and messmen took a beating whether they deserved it or not. Captured Jap rice was the filler, and not a hell of a lot of anything to dress it up. I remember one mess server who we called ÂŒtwo prunes' because that's all he would give you, regardless of what you said." Sometimes, the marines got a treat. "At one time they butchered a cow," Joseph recalls, "and believe me it was tough as shoe leather. You chewed and chewed and it didn't taste like beef. It didn't taste like anything but you kept chewing, hoping that it would."

As if to remind them of their isolation and desperation, Japanese aircraft and submarines contemptuously harassed the marooned Americans. On 11 August six Zero fighters roared over the airfield, viciously strafing it and the surrounding marine emplacements at low altitude. The next day, 90mm antiaircraft guns of the 3d Defense Battalion opened up on Japanese aircraft for the first time, surprising three Betty bombers. The unexpected antiaircraft fire compelled the trio to drop their payloads west of the airfield. During the next week, the daily routine on Guadalcanal included an air raid around noon, but the Japanese failed to inflict substantial damage on the airfield. In addition to attacks from the air, the Imperial Navy employed submarines to bombard and observe the American castaways. These aquatic pests, collectively nicknamed "Oscar" by the Americans, usually visited at night, but Oscar occasionally surfaced during the day and harassed the Americans. These daylight appearances normally provoked an angry and effective response from marine 75mm half-tracks on the beach.

Despite their isolation and hardships, the marines on Guadalcanal found time to amuse themselves with diverse activities. As usual with Americans, many gave top priority to souvenir hunting, with inscribed Japanese flags and swords being the most highly coveted items (the ornamental swords carried by Japanese officers commanded top dollar). In what little spare time they had, the marines wrote letters to home, bathed in the Lunga River, or played cards. One gunnery sergeant conducted a class in Japanese flower arrangement, using a beautifully illustrated book he had liberated from the Japanese. The marines also engaged in spreading the latest scuttlebutt, with the most popular topics being their imminent relief by the army and the victor of the recent naval battle. Others preferred to talk of girlfriends or family or dream of succulent dishes, pastries, or candy.

The Goettge Patrol

Next to completing the airfield, eradicating the Japanese on the island was Vandegrift's foremost concern. In view of the Japanese garrison's actual strength of about 2,800, such a concern may be difficult to fathom. But before the invasion the division believed that a large force of troops and laborers were on Guadalcanal, including a well-armed regiment of 3,100 men. Tackling such a force was beyond his means at the time, so Vandegrift settled on patrolling in an effort to locate the main Japanese force. It soon became apparent that Colonel Hunt's 5th Marines had located the main body of the Japanese west near the Matanikau, a small but deep river located five miles west of the airfield. On the 9th, one marine was killed and several wounded, after a small patrol tried to cross the sand spit at the river's mouth. The next day a platoon was repulsed at the same location. The leader of this platoon reported that the high ground on the west bank was heavily defended and that strong enemy positions dominated the sand spit, a natural crossing point.

During these and other encounters, the marines captured a few seamen of the Japanese naval garrison. On 12 August a Japanese prisoner was brought in and interrogated. At first, interpreters had a great deal of difficulty getting information out of him, but he confessed that his comrades might be willing to surrender and agreed to help find them. This information, coupled with a patrol report of a large white flag seen in the high ground beyond the Matanikau, seemed to substantiate his claim. First Sergeant Stephen Custer of the division's intelligence section offered to organize and lead a patrol to the Matanikau to contact those Japanese willing to surrender, but Lt. Col. Frank Goettge, the division intelligence officer (D-2), decided to lead the humanitarian mission himself. Taking several members of his section, Goettge fleshed out the patrol with personnel from the 5th Marines. The patrol consisted of twenty-five Americans and the Japanese prisoner.

Shortly after nightfall, the Goettge patrol left Kukum by boat. Around midnight, sentries in the 5th Marines' sector reported seeing tracers from the direction of Point Cruz, where Goettge had landed. Near daybreak, one exhausted member of the patrol, Sgt. Charles "Monk" Arndt, returned to report that the patrol had come under fire immediately following the landing and that he had been sent back for help. Two others, Cpl. Joseph Spaulding and Sgt. Frank Few, also survived. Neither marine, however, had a coherent story about what had happened, except that Goettge had been shot first shortly after entering the brush. Few, who escaped at dawn, stated that he saw the Japanese butchering the dead on the beach as he swam away. Colonel Hunt immediately dispatched Company L to the area, but the expedition failed to locate any survivors.

Much has been written about the Goettge patrol and who was to blame for the fiasco. Vandegrift must certainly shoulder some if not all of the blame. Authorizing an expedition of twenty-five men to coax a large enemy force into surrendering is puzzling. Indeed, the marines knew the Japanese existed in force in the Matanikau region; several patrols had already confirmed their presence. Goettge, however, must also share some of the criticism. He landed his patrol near Point Cruz, the area of the enemy's greatest strength, against orders. Why he ignored orders and decided to land there will never be known. It was a costly error resulting in the deaths of twenty-two men, including himself.

The loss of the highly talented Goettge, who was also a football player of national renown, was a blow Vandegrift felt keenly. It is certain that Vandegrift blamed himself for the disaster. Although Goettge's replacement, Lt. Col. Edmund J. Buckley of the 11th Marines, performed well, his level of competence never matched that of Goettge. Fortunately, the division intelligence section received a valuable addition on the 15th, when Capt. Martin Clemens, an officer in the British Solomon Islands Protectorate Defense Force, arrived with his team of native scouts. Near starvation, Clemens and his scouts had left their secluded lookout near Aola Bay a week earlier, after the marines landed. Jacob Vouza, a retired member of the Solomon Islands constabulary, soon joined them. Clemens offered their services as intelligence collectors and as guides, a proposition that Vandegrift delightfully accepted.

Before dusk on the 15th, four high-speed transports flying the U.S. flag dropped anchor in the placid waters off Lunga Point, the first American vessels to do so since Admiral Turner's transports departed nearly a week earlier. These were the APDs Gregory, Little, Colhoun, and McKean, which had left Espíritu Santo the morning before, bearing much-needed cargo. They put ashore 123 men, drums of aviation gasoline and lubrication oil, bombs, belted ammunition, tools, and spare parts. Most of the newly arrived personnel were members of CUB-1, a naval air base maintenance unit. The others belonged to a marine air operations detachment. Late on 17 August two more APDs, Manley and Stringham, reached Guadalcanal and deposited more equipment and supplies for CUB-1. The APDs also brought with them a letter for Vandegrift from RAdm. John S. McCain, commander of air forces in the South Pacific. McCain promised to send one squadron of SBD Dauntless dive-bombers and one squadron of F4F Grumman Wildcat fighters to Guadalcanal in three to four days.

Despite their many difficulties -- the lack of supplies, engineering equipment, and men; an abundance of sickness; enemy bombing and shelling; and bad food -- the U.S. marines were firmly entrenched and firmly in control of the small piece of priceless real estate around Henderson Field. Moreover, with the recent arrival of the navy, the situation was beginning to brighten somewhat. But Vandegrift knew the Japanese would not be idle while he strengthened his grip on the island. He was right. Although caught napping, the Japanese would awaken like a sleeping giant to deal with the annoying Americans on this small, isolated outpost in the South Pacific.

Copyright © 2000 by Michael S. Smith

Edition details

• Publisher: Pocket
• Publication date: 2003
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0743463218
• ISBN 13: 9780743463218
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 368