Biak-Zambo: A Story of Two Soldiers

ACKNOWLEDGMENT AND REMEMBRANCE

To all the men that I had the honor of serving with in the 41st Infantry Division during World War 11, I now feel the time has come to say my final farewell and pay my last tribute.

I especially wish to express my deepest respect to the many brave men who fought and died in the steamy jungles and blood soaked beaches of New Guinea, the Dutch East Indies and the Philippine Islands. They died in a far away land and in a lonely and desolate environment known only to their families and the men that were there with them.

Their death was not without honor and dignity. They sacrificed their lives for their uncompromising devotion to their country. And just as important to them was the dedication and concern they had always shown for the men that stood by them. The opportunity to come home and build the beautiful life they had dreamed of during the long years of the war was denied them. But those of us that did return have always felt a deep sense of gratitude and profound sorrow for the ones that didn’t come home with us. It was the memory of the men that had fallen in battle that has given us the values and the appreciation of the wonderful years we have enjoyed in this blessed land of ours. We may not have ever taken this precious gift for granted.

We don’t have a granite wall with their names etched on it but we do have something else. The names of all our fallen friends we have revered all these years been forever held sacred in our hearts for over fifty years.

We have never forgotten them, we never will.

Lincoln Peters

CHAPTER 1

It was a hot steamy day, as every day is in the South Pacific.

The men of L Company were camped in a rest area; the battle of Biak had finally been brought to an end. What had been planned as a six-week operation had taken almost three months to complete. There were still isolated pockets of resistance on the Island. Small groups of Japanese, probably officers or service personnel had taken refuge in some of the many caves that were scattered everywhere. These holdouts could not be ignored. In addition to their food supplies they had managed to take with them most of their weapons. They were the total fanatics that the Division had been warned of. These survivors had only one purpose in life, and that was to cause as much destruction to the invading Americans as they could before they were to die.

Biak-which means hot land rising from the sea- was an island that was made up largely of coral and was a beehive of caves. The Island is boot-shaped, about 30 miles long and 11 miles wide. The hard coral rock was not that easy to dig out but the Japanese were experts in burrowing underground bunkers. This would make it difficult for the forward units to locate them and flush them out. They would just bypass them and push on to the far side of the island. This would leave pockets of the enemy actually behind the front lines, a situation that caused many problems in the rear areas. It would be quiet and peaceful during the day. But as soon as it got dark they would come out of their caves and harass any units in the area. They would quickly attack any truck, or moving vehicle along the roads the army had built to supply the forward units. This was more an annoyance than a counterattack, but they were causing casualties. So the command was given to destroy any cave that was known to be in the staging areas. This may have sounded like an impossible mission, but to the enterprising Company Commanders it was a simple, but brutal task. Once the Island was able to accommodate the large air transport planes and tanker ships there was always a plentiful supply of gas available. An army needs plenty of fuel to operate and it was no problem for a unit commander to requisition a tank trailer full of gasoline.

It was a gruesome, but simple operation. A rifle platoon would open up with covering fire at the cave openings while the tank truck driver would back his truck up to the mouth, stick the hose out and empty the tank into the cave. After a quick withdrawal of the truck, the riflemen would open fire with tracer bullets igniting the gas and turning the cave into a blazing inferno. There were some caves destroyed by rolling drums of aviation fuel into the opening, then exploding a TNT charge inside. The ensuing explosion and fire would quickly deplete the oxygen in the cave leaving the occupants asphyxiated.

The cries of the inhabitants of the cave could be heard through out the area. They were shrieking in agony. The ones that were able to escape come running out with their clothing on fire and were met with the sympathy of machine gun fire awaiting them.

The two men watching the liquidation of the cave and all the inhabitants inside were feeling no sorrows. Pfc Ray Cosmo and Pfc Lenny Parks were two riflemen from the third platoon of L Co. 162nd Regiment, 41st Infantry Division that just sat there smoking a cigarette and enjoying the murderous spectacle. There were over three hundred men killed in this operation and it wasn’t over yet. They both knew there would be more casualties. It would get them sick when the news reports would declare an operation finished and only the mopping up remained. They had seen many dozens of men killed in the New Guinea campaign during these so called mopping up operations. They knew all too well that you don’t mop up Japanese soldiers. You have to flush them out and kill them, and to do this usually would cost you many brave men. It was that same sick equation the enemy was taught; die when it’s your time to die, but always remember to take an American with you.

Hey Ray, how many Nips you figure were in that friggin cave? Asked Lenny.

I dunno. Ray answered. I wish it was the whole God Damned Japanese army. But you know they’re too smart to hole up more than a squad or two in any one cave. The smell of burning flesh carried by the heavy smoke coming out of the cave permeated the air and became an irritant to the men gathered around the area.

Does anyone ever go into them caves after we burn them up? I mean what the hell does it look like when the fires out? Lenny asked.

Ray let out a chuckle. Naw, they use the stinkin’ hole for a garbage dump. You know how much crap the Army has to dispose of every day.

You mean they dump garbage into them caves with all them dead soldiers still in there? Lenny asked in a sorrowful voice.

Why hell yeah man. Ray retorted. What’d you expect the Army to do, go in there and clean the place out? This Army does a lot of stupid things but they haven’t gone completely Asiatic yet. But give ‘em some time, they’ll come up with some horsesass procedure for these caves. Ray showed his contempt and hatred for the army and the enemy. He had seen too many men killed before they had even started their lives. These were all young men, actually only boys, as many of the enlisted men were not twenty years old. The officers were a little older but not much more. This was the third year of the Great War and the casualties were mounting at a rapid pace.

But still the thought of men, probably the same age as himself, laying in that cave, burned to a crisp, and now covered with stinkin’ army garbage.

It sickened Lenny to think about it.

To the Army’s absolute astonishment, it was discovered after the war that more than 2000 Japanese soldiers had perished in these caves. There were actually a maze of caves that were inter-connected by tunnels and had their own source of water. The enemy had moved into these caves before the Division began the invasion. They had determined that the caves were ideally suited for air raid shelters. They were also used to hide from aerial observation, the large amount of military equipment that was stored on the Island. It makes a person wonder how the Army’s intelligence operation was ever able to survive with such a total lack of intelligence.

Years later the Japanese had returned to collect the remains of their dead soldiers. They have now erected a monument on the site and hold Shinto ceremonies to honor their dead comrades.

Ray and Lenny returned to their company base camp, another assault was being planned and the same old dreaded question came up again. Will I get killed on this Island or the next one? Every one in the company had this terrible dilemma in their mind every day of their life. It was a totally honest assessment. In an infantry platoon it was never a question of getting shot or not getting shot. If you remained in combat long enough you would be sure to get hit eventually. The question was always; when I do get hit would I be able to survive? They were certain that another beachhead landing like the one the Division made on this Island would certainly be the end of them.

This invasion was a catastrophe from the first moment it was launched, in spite of all the planning and preparations that proceeded it.

High ranking staff officers that spend days studying maps never really know for sure just what the conditions are on an Island they are planning to invade.

This entire operation started out on a mistake. Army Intelligence, which is an oxymoron, an inconsistency in terms, had designated the landing site on the one part of the Island that the landing never should have been made.

The site selected was an open beach area that was totally barren. There was no vegetation or any kind of growth that could be used for cover or protection when the first wave came wading ashore. But the real tragedy was the fact that a few hundred feet from the landing site there were sheer coral cliffs rising above the beachhead. These cliffs were cleverly pockmarked with caves containing enemy gun emplacements, all types of guns. One cave had been constructed with a railroad track inside that allowed a heavy artillery piece to be wheeled out to fire a few rounds then be pulled back into the protection of the cave. This made it difficult to silence the shelling to protect the troops scrambling to get ashore. The frantic first wave officers were screaming into their radios for the supporting ships off shore to fire any thing they could to help the men tied down on the beach.

Ray and Lenny were pinned down in a shell crater just a few feet from the water’s edge. They were able to see the rapid fire coming from the cave openings above them. Small bits of coral were flying all around them as the bullets struck the rocky ground. There was no way they could return any fire as they were sure to get picked off as soon as they would raise their head.

Some dumbbell General’s sure to get a medal for this, how could any one in their right mind pick a place like this to land an infantry regiment? Ray was swearing his head off now and then added: And you know they decorate the bums for making stupid decisions. Whoever did pick this landing site should not get a medal, but should be court-marshaled and shot. The anger swelling up in Ray was a good antidote for the overwhelming fear they were feeling. It seemed like a hopeless situation. Looking around them they could see only the bodies of the dead men that were caught in the withering fire that was awaiting them when they disembarked from the small landing crafts. The sound of shells bursting and the endless staccato of the machine guns firing were making a deafening noise. After an eternity, lying in that small crater waiting to be blown up or picked off by an enemy sharpshooter, they finally heard the enormously loud roar of Naval guns being fired. They couldn’t see through the heavy smoke that covered the area, but they were sure that the Navy was actually coming in closer now and firing their salvoes. It was a sweet sound. There were many loud explosions heard indicating that there were probably many ships involved in the shelling.

It’s about time the chicken-shit Navy showed up. Ray was still venting his anger out. Maybe big boss Mac woke the bums up and told them politely to please come and help me. I’m losing some of my good men on that bloody beach. Would you be kind enough to lob some of them large shells on that ridgeline? Dear me, they seem to have an entire battalion pinned down. Oh lordy lord.

You lousy aristocrat. You’re sitting in your safe, secure headquarters on board one of them massive battle cruisers and trying to show some sympathy for us poor old dog faces that are about to die. Ray continued his tirade against the Army, the Navy, the U.S. government and any one else that had a hand in putting him in this life-threatening predicament he found himself in.

Hey, we got to find a way to get the hell out of here. Lenny let out with a gasp Them Nips are looking down their gun sights on us, they’ll pick us off before long, we gotta get outta here! There was a sound of desperation in his voice.

Looking around as far as they could see there was no one in sight that showed any sign of life. They finally resorted to hollering the names of their platoon leader, their lieutenant, and even their company commander. There was no response. Now it became very frightening. They couldn’t be the only survivors of this ill-fated operation. Some one else had to still be alive.

Patrols from the first wave had attempted to scale the cliffs in a futile effort to destroy some of the gun positions, but they ended in a deadly failure. Bodies of the dead men could be seen sprawled out at the bottom of the cliffs, killed before they could get close enough to the caves to knock them out. The enemy had cleverly located all their gun emplacements in inaccessible openings in the forward face of the cliffs. Any further frontal assaults would only result in more loss of life.

The sound of a motor racing caught the men’s attention. It was behind them so it didn’t frighten them. They knew that only the Goddamn Navy was behind them, so it was either reinforcements or by the Grace of God, maybe they had come to evacuate them. In any event it brought a brief moment of relief.

The horrible loud sound of shells exploding was now accelerating. The ground was shaking from the concussions. Then through the smoke and the heavy bombardment they heard the heartwarming sound of aircraft flying overhead. Since they knew that the air force had complete control of the air they were confident that the planes were our own. It was reassuring to know that they were not forgotten or given up for lost. This gave them a new determination to try to survive.

The flight of planes were peeling off one by one and aiming for the caves on the high ridge overlooking the beachhead. The strafing was executed with pinpoint accuracy. Ray and Lenny became a two man cheering section. What a thrill it was to see them beautiful fighter planes swoop down out of the sky and release a torrent of machine gun and cannon fire into them caves. The men were excited and actually proud now. It was a good feeling to know that they had not been abandoned. They were not fighting this lousy war all by themselves. The relief was short lived. They still had a bad situation and there didn’t appear to be any way out.

The enemy fire from the ridge had stopped, and now they could hear the voice of their company commander. It was Captain Horn, Lenny was sure it was.

Did you hear that? He was nudging Ray. Captain Horn is hollering. Can’t you hear him man?

Ray finally perked up, listening to the voice coming from the edge of the water he could now make out what the Captain was barking out. The order was to give up the beachhead and pull back into the water. The landing craft were coming back to pick up anyone who could make it back to the water’s edge. The naval fire and air attacks had allowed the regiment enough time to beat a hasty retreat off the bloody beach. Now men could be seen running back from the low ground into the water. Small Higgens boats and other types of boats with flat bottom hulls were bobbing on the rolling turf picking up anyone that made it to their vicinity.

Ray was the first to spot the landing craft approaching the area they were laying in so he yelled out to Len.

Come on, lets get the hell out if here, there’s a Higgens heading right for us, come on Len, this’ll be our only chance, let’s go buddy.

They sprang out of the hole they were lying in and made a dash for the small craft waiting at the water’s edge. Ray was first as he was the faster of the two but Lenny stopped a few feet from the water. He heard his name called out.

Oh my God, Whitey. Lenny yelled out. Hey Ray, it’s Whitey, it looks like he’s been hit! You go on ahead, don’t let that guy leave without me, I’m going back for Whitey.

Ray was furious; stopping now for an injured man would be suicide. There was no way of telling when the murderous fire would begin again. He had been fighting the Japanese long enough to know that they never quit. Never!

The decision was easy for Ray, he yelled once more for Lenny to follow him and then jumped into the surf and swam furiously toward the boat.

The boatswains mate was screaming at the top of his voice for anyone near his boat to climb on as he was fixing to get out of there as quick as he could.

Ray reached the side. Clinging on to the gunwale, he pleaded with the sailor to wait a few minutes. My buddy’s bringing a wounded guy with him.

The angry, frightened sailor answered back frantically.

Are you nuts, wait for some one bringing a guy all shot up? We’re sitting ducks out here, I’m not waiting for no one. Ray could sense the panic, the hysteria in the sailor’s voice. Now he was glad he had been well trained by the Army. As much as he hated it, he had to admit the Army knew how to train combat soldiers. The one point that was constantly drilled into them, especially when they were sent overseas, was never; under no circumstance, leave your weapon behind. Take your weapon with you wherever you go, day or night. Never put it down anywhere and leave it, not for a moment.

Just make it become a part of your body. That was wonderful advice!

Some how he had managed to strap his rifle across his chest when he hit the turf and it had stayed with him as it was supposed to do. How sweet! That was the only advantage he had and he made good use of it.

He now pulled the gun off his shoulder as he climbed into the boat, aiming it at the boatswains’ head he simply asked him.

Would you like to wait here alive or would you rather wait with a bullet in your head? Either way we’re gonna wait a few minutes.

The sailor was now getting nervous and angry. Geez, this is the thanks I get for risking my life to get you guys outta here.

Whitey’s leg had been hit with a mortar fragment, but Lenny was as good a medical corpsman as any one in the company was. Taking his hanky, he tied a tourniquet tightly around his upper thigh to stop the bleeding. Using his open bayonet and the sheath he fashioned a brace to support the injured leg. He took his belt and Whitey’s belt and tied the leg as tight as he could. Looking around for a medic or some one to help him there was no one in sight. Looking at Whitey he then said:

Gosh, I wish I had some morphine on me, the pain must be terrible. The color was draining out of Whitey’s face. He was light complexioned to begin with but now his complexion was turning into a pallor that indicated he was going into shock. This was always considered to be the main cause of death from battlefield wounds. Some times the wounds are massive enough to cause death immediately. Or there can be an injury to a vital part of the body, like the head or an internal organ. But there have been many deaths recorded as having been caused by a wound that normally would not have been considered life threatening. The human body can react in strange ways when it is hit with a sudden traumatic shock. There have been many soldiers that had sustained serious injuries and had managed to survive. Then there were some men that had been killed by a single bullet that caused nothing more than a flesh wound. The difference being one body went into shock and the other was able to absorb the shock and stay alive.

He could see the blood filled gaping hole in his leg just above the knee. He had stopped the bleeding. But the sight of the torn tissue and the exposed bone fragment convinced him that this poor guy was in terrible pain and he better get him onto that boat as quick as he could. It’s a strange phenomenon that in desperate situations some men can find an enormous amount of strength that they never knew they had. He never was sure how he did it but he put the wounded man over his shoulder and carried him off that God forsaken beach. Getting to the boat was easier in comparison. The salt water oceans are very buoyant. Men who had never been able to swim well in fresh water find it easy to stay afloat or even swim long distances in the salt-water oceans.

Lenny was crying with joy as he approached the landing craft swimming furiously with his left arm while holding Whitey firmly in his right arm. His chest swelled with pride as he seen his friend pointing his rifle at the sailor’s head.

Hey don’t shoot him Ray, we need him to get us the hell out of here.

The shelling continued on the ridgeline. The Navy had evacuated all the living and walking wounded they could find along the beach.