This is a first draft of a chapter that never made it into Kundela, after talking to a mate I thought I would put it on the blog for all to see. Most of the story is fiction but the action on the airfield came from a true story told to me by an old digger.
I hope you like it.
Terry
Not yet twenty-one and conscripted into the Army in
1942, Les Gillespie was a complex individual. He too had seen the nightmare of
battle but unlike his father or his son, the Second World War had caused a
devastating effect on Les’s life. The scars from his war were ever close to the
surface of his agitated mind.
****
Les first saw action in
New Guinea. As with many others dragged from the peace of a country farm, Les
and his mates were much unprepared. Thrust into battle in the jungles of a
country they didn’t know, to fight an enemy they couldn’t see, by a government for
whom they had not voted.
Long after the war had finished, the horror of it
all still visited him daily. Vivid images, mates around him cut down instantly,
dying on the spot. Others screaming in pain as bullets from a Jap machine gun
strafed and ripped the steamy airfield.
****
The groaning Dakota had
left Port Moresby in darkness. Hoping he could land these raw conscripts on an
abandoned enemy airstrip, the young pilot wanted to land and leave before the withdrawing
Japanese would know. Delayed by poor weather their advantage had been lost.
Hearing the droning
engines, a few retreating enemy soldiers returned to the badly damaged airstrip.
Diving into a gun post as the war-weary aircraft touched down into the wind,
the Japanese were ready. Turning to unload, the pilot noticed a movement in a
machine gun nest about 200 yards away. ‘We’ve been spotted! Get everyone out
now! I have got to get this thing back into the air.’ He ordered.
Two out of the three men landed that day were slain
or injured. The ten who made it alive were gritty and determined to survive.
Stuck in a compromised position they used their dead comrades for shelter to regroup.
Their commanding
officer was dead. Nobody knew what to do next and panic raced through the
ranks. Quickly summing up the situation, Les knew to survive, someone needed to
bring this decimated group together. A couple of minutes passed before Les took
charge. An attack on the Japanese machine gunners pinning them down was their
only chance.
Les yelled, ‘We have to shove as much fire as you
can muster on those yellow bastards so I can get close enough to put a grenade
or two up their arse’
The Japanese had
limited ammunition and sensing their advantage stopped firing. The airfield
grew quiet and the next few minutes dragged like hours, for the surviving
Australians. Looking around his mates, Les counted ten men fit to fight and
another five who, although wounded could return fire. ‘On the count of three
throw as much shit as you can at them,’ Les commanded.
He knew each man
carried an army issued Lee Enfield 303 rifle. Although these bolt action rifles
were no match for the machine gun firing at them. Les reasoned if they directed
volley on volley toward the enemy position, the Japs would be unwilling to
creep above the safety of their sandbagged dug out to return fire.
The young diggers may have a slender chance.
Now ready, each soldier,
with his rifle butt pulled back hard into a young shoulder. Les quickly toted
up their odds, ‘ten in the magazine and one in the breech’ it wasn’t an
assuring count ‘only one hundred and sixty five bullets, boys we are really up
shit creek’ he thought.
‘Okay, keep the fire constant, on the count of
three, start firing and keep doing it until we get a result.’
This morning belonged
to the brave. Their sights adjusted to two hundred yards and trained just above
the position of the battle hardened Japanese fighters, the tension built. Each
young Aussie filled with frightened enthusiasm, sharpening each of their
senses. Their adrenalin surged, excitement replacing their fear. Now, the
signal they were waiting for, Les yelled, ‘One, two, three!’
As he heard the second
volley of shots, Les leapt out from behind the human barrier and into full view
of the Japanese. His comrades concentrated their fire at the target. His
200-yard sprint seemed to take forever as Les scouted around to the blind side
of the open machine gun nest.
Now and within in range
he could see his enemy. An over-arm action and the first of his grenades sailed
toward its target, in an instant a second was on its way. Les managed to get a
third and fourth away and he dropped to the ground covering his ears with
cupped hands.
Shrapnel began falling around the battleground as
dirt and dust filled the air. Looking up, Les could see that the enemy were
dead and for now, his troop was safe. Still in danger, Les knew they should get
away and find a secure area to regroup.
‘We had better move out He barked, ‘get as many of
the wounded who can walk onto their feet. We will come back for the others when
we can.’
Leaving their dead and
wounded in the open was the only option open to them.
Secure in their jungle
hideout, Les shivered as he heard each single shot from a Japanese pistol echo
toward him. Its owner laughing as he repeatedly emptied life from each of the
wounded Australians. This scene lived in Les’s memory forever. Images of
that day played repeatedly in his mind and for the duration of the war,
created a wanton recklessness within him.
Les started taking
extraordinary risks, living a most dangerous and hateful war.
****
When victory came, others were able to put the
terror behind them. His mates were excited about coming home and building a new
life. Les however, carried home a few physical reminders and a tormented mind.
Pains from the few pieces of a Japanese grenade lodged in his body were a
constant reminder of his hatred for his enemy.
Les didn’t settle
easily into his life after the war. Sleeping in his mind and always close to
the surface were dangerous thoughts of an agonising past. He was no longer the
gentle soul who had left Wanooka’s Well for war, War had changed him, losing
all sense of compassion and any happiness he felt soon dissipated. Always angry
he became increasingly hard on his wife and their only son Joe.
