 As an old saying in the army, the longest march always begins with the first step. By the same token, the greatest battle usually begins with one word, one simple code word which becomes a symbol of the whole operation. So it happens that the battle for New Britain begins with the word overpower, the secret army code word. And it means that at a certain time, at a certain place, American troops will land on the Jap-held island of New Britain. It's a tough island to crack. The Japs gave it plenty of teeth. A powerful naval base at Rabaul, good airstrips, and over 100,000 troops spotted in different places and expecting a visit. And besides Japs, there's always the jungle. Never before in history has a large-scale war been fought on such difficult battlefields. Looks pretty, doesn't it? Pretty is a picture and a pre-war travel advertisement. But how is it to live in? Ask Joe Soldier, a jungle-clad paradise crawling with bugs, snakes, and lizards, spiders. Ask him about sweating out a march through blazing equatorial heat. Ask him about the smell, that wet stench of the jungle. Yes, and don't let him forget to mention those tropical sunsets, bringing the malaria mosquito. An attack is prepared in staging areas where the men are rehearsed for the job, quietly, secretly, systematically. Men and equipment start moving into three separate areas along this coast. This is done so there'll be no large concentration of troops in any one spot to tip off the plan. A task force is a miniature army tailored for a particular job. This one consists of a regiment from Texas, a battalion of artillery and service troops, quartermasters, signal corps, engineers, and medicos. They know what this staging area means. A jumping-off place for something big. Out here, housekeeping starts from the ground up. You pick yourself a place and start chopping. It used to be hard work mowing the lawn on Sunday afternoons. Try mowing kunai grass with a machete. Meantime, a couple of hundred miles to the north, the second task force marches into their staging area to prepare for their part in the operations. These men have seen something of jungle fighting. They're marines, and they cut their teeth on glattle canal. In the third staging area, it's more marines, more guns, more shells, more thorns to press into the side of Tojo's Island of New Britain. On back of the men come the trucks, the half tons, the jeeps, the bulldozers, a community on wheels, carrying the thousand and one needs of a task force, food for bellies and gun barrels, canvas for cover, wires for communication, the tools of a jungle army. When the lot is cleared, you stretch out your house. It doesn't take long. Just fasten the ceiling, get under the center pole and hoist, and leave plenty of slack on those ropes. The first rain will do the tightening. Nudging out elbow room in this wilderness and getting your stuff across swamps and streams is pretty rugged, but it's good practice for jungle warfare. Bridges need plenty of attention. Mountain rains can swell leaves stream to torrents that can drown the truck, and transportation is important out here. When it comes to jungle construction, you can't beat a fuzzy wuzzy. Uncle Sam has thousands on his payroll. The foreman checks everything. Thatched roofs keep out most of the rain, some of the heat, and none of the bugs. And don't think these builders don't know the value of money. Money will buy a pig, and a pig can be exchanged for a wife. Here's where that Boy Scout training comes in handy. And this lad is an awfully tough critic. Outfits sprawl over a staging area for miles. It's a signal cord job to tie them together with telephone lines. Not much like hometown telephone poles, but the technique of climbing them hasn't changed a bit. The nerves run back to the brain. This switchboard at headquarters will handle a thousand calls a day. Orders, reports, requests, instructions to field phones out where the jungle begins. When a jeep or a truck is issued to a driver, that's his baby, and he keeps it clean. The old swimming hole, jungle style. It's the bath, shower, and laundry combined. First scrub your skin, then scrub the clothes you just took off. This may not be your favorite cafeteria, but it's the only one handy right now. And it's the quartermaster's job to see that the army is fed wherever they are. There's a mess of vitamins that'll patch your ribs, but don't get us wrong. We still like home cooking. These are the canvas cities that Joe Solger built out of jungle and kunai grass. Like their forefathers, these troops have tamed the corner of wilderness into a temporary home. Five forty-five, and the day begins. And you can't do this with a family sink. And now to work. It begins with the task force commander giving the details of the job to the men who are going to do it. There will be two landings on New Britain. The first at Arroway to divert the jabs from the mainlanding a few days later at Cape Gloucester. Arroway is a peninsula. A small force will make a landing up here in the enemy's rear, they hope, and move down the peninsula to join with the main forces who will land along here. Complete surprise is the main thing. Hit fast and hard. Gain a foothold before the jabs can move a large force against you. That's what unit leaders are telling them. A soldier has to know what he's supposed to do, where he's supposed to do it, and why. And this is the time to check your weapons. A gun jam on a beach head might happen only once. The same thing is going on up in the marine staging area. Weapons, equipment, and the men themselves get a personal once over. Anti-aircraft protection stays on its toes, just in case. Thirty-seven millimeter anti-tank teams have to load, aim, and fire almost simultaneously. They can get off about 30 rounds a minute. It's rumored that a lone-star governor once said, By God, if the United States ever goes to war, Texas will go with it. And here she is. There'll be artillery, too, for knocking out jabs' strong points. Sometimes it takes a flamethrower to burn out a pillbox. They work well in jungle warfare and nip installation. Native fighters, or bongs, as they're called, give our troops a few tips on the technique of jungle fighting. Training is carried out under simulated battle conditions, and soldier, those aren't pebbles hitting the stream. You've got to know how to fire at sounds, too, because jungle fighters seldom see each other alive. The last stages of training begin aboard the ships that will carry the troops to their mission. This practice ends in a full dress rehearsal. Two detachments are going to make the landing in rubber boats. It takes a lot of practice to handle these. It's dangerous, plenty dangerous. No protective armor, no more speed than your own paddle power. Regular types of landing craft may have trouble getting over the core reef at our weight, so buffalos and alligators have been selected to bring the first wave of assault troops ashore. What's an alligator? It's an amphibious tank. What's a buffalo? It's an amphibious tank, too, but it's got more armor. They look like bad dreams, and they'll deliver the first punch. And now let's hear what the general thinks. The secret of your success is your squad and platoon leaders. They must get hold of their outfits and control them, but control doesn't mean bunching. The buffalos will land in a wave. From then on, their tanks, they crash through the underbrush. They knock out trees, followed by riflemen. You run upon a jet machine gun nest. What do you do? You circle it, infiltrate, use grenades, and don't make the mistake of stopping to help a man who gets hit. You haven't got time. Let the medical man pick them up. So now it's up to you. You can only go forward. You can't go back. There'll be nothing to go back to. Just grab a piece of beach and start shoving. Are there any questions? Now comes the parade of men and supplies. The loading, the checking, the counting, the packing. It's the war of logistics. Adding up to the final question mark. Will the troops who make the landing have what they need, where they need it, and when they need it? The training is over. Rehearsals are over. This is it. Remember, this is only one of three task forces, and it's going to make the landing at our way a few days ahead of the big staff at Gloucester. The commander-in-chief who is responsible for the coordination of the whole plan comes down for the takeoff. General MacArthur and General Kruger on the right, commanding the 6th Army, and the last-minute chat with the task force commander. And what they said is a military secret. The first assault waves are ready. Time doesn't even wait on generals, and time is running out. This is goodbye, and good luck. There they go. The buffaloes and alligators are going to load on the mothership. Meantime, the main force loads aboard its transport. Once up the net, the landing craft that brought them will be hoisted aboard, and the rubber boat detachments move out to load on the destroyer that will carry them. The convoy is on its way to meet its naval escort. This is D-Day minus one. The men know that means the day before invasion. This last-minute check on weapons goes on aboard every ship, and nobody has to be told to do it now. Ammunition to fight malaria. It's the daily atabrine pill. This too happens on every ship. Last-minute instructions to officers and non-cons. It's called briefing. Whatever happens, keep contact. Message center will begin here. Get your messages back as fast as you can, of course. Keep your men dispersed. Cut out bunching. Look out for this high ground over here. You'll have to hit it from the flanks, I think. And above all, keep moving in this direction. You've all got compasses. We're at the rendezvous point. The task force commander leaves to board one of the destroyers at the escort. And now the convoy will sail through the night to Aralee. Troops ships flanked by destroyers and led by minesweepers and sub-chasers. Try to see the evening fun though dawn. Tomorrow belongs to the headlines in hometown papers. To the radio commentators and the casualty lists. But these few hours belong to each man to spend as he likes. D-Day. Detection of the naval barrage, the first assault waves, keeps circling. Awaiting the order to start in. There they go. High explosives. Calling cars to clear the beaches of small arms fire. Now it's the Air Force's turn. Throw most of the Japs. That's where the planes work them over. Strafing may not wipe out a ground force, but it keeps them ducking. There's the landing place. The first casualty result of a Jap machine gun burst. It's safe to raise your head and look at the shore now. And here's why. This is what naval barrage and air bombing can do to a shoreline. Remember, you can only go forward. You can't go back. There'll be nothing to go back to. Just grab a piece of beach and start shoving. Still a few snipers around. Patrols grow ahead of the main body to fill out the Jap's strength to locate his positions. Solved troops keep the peninsula was lightly held, but there's still plenty of Japs to comb out. You don't see many, except this kind. The objective is to push about three miles up the peninsula, then dig in and hang on. More and more troops are fed up to the rapidly advancing front by jeeps. Alligators. Buffalo. Grab is over. Now to hold on. Counter attacks may strike anywhere, anytime. Better be ready. Beach gun emplacements for all-round security. That's an air raid warning truck under the camouflage. And every man digs a place to dive into when the zeroes come. Communication keeps pace with combat. Switchboard and message center open for business. Supplies are needed faster than ships can bring them. Parachute-borne ammunition coming down. But they don't always select ideal landing places. A job for the pole line crew. That dirty pool is being converted into drinking water by the engineer water purification unit. Men may one day forget many things of this war, but never the taste of chlorine. Casualties from the front get attention in the surgical tent. The man on the table got a shell fragment in the leg. Enemy planes. This is what's left of the surgical tent filled with wounded men after a direct hit. These men, the roads are longest. Having received emergency treatment, the wounded are evacuated to hospitals in New Guinea. This landing was a complete surprise to the Japs, so resistance was light, except at the upper end of the peninsula where the rubber boats went in before dawn. They met heavy machine gun fire before they could reach the beach. The boats were destroyed. The men were scattered. They just couldn't swim and fight at the same time. But the main landing is successful. The Japs have been driven back up the peninsula. The beachhead is established. The task force commander is ready to make his report. And now for the main event. The landings on Cape Gloucester. Arroway was the faint with the left. Gloucester will be the right to the jaw. Here, here, and here. The forces will capture the airstrip and converge, setting up an American stronghold on the supply line to rebound. In the marine staging areas, it is Christmas Day. Last mass before sailing for Gloucester. Masses of men to land upon three separate beaches in the vicinity of Cape Gloucester. This is to be the main effort. It is an army made up of two task forces in the teeth of known Japs power. These two landings are the first stage of the neutralization and development of Ravel. On Christmas night, a vast convoy sets out. Gloucester, New Britain. The first assault load into Higgins boats. And the umbrella of air protection arrives on time. At the beaches, the jungle crawls with Japs. They're dug in and well fortified, but not against this. Bombardier once boasted he could hit a derby with a dime. Here's where accuracy really counts. Back of the beaches, but not too far in. And under this air cover, the invasion fleet creeps forward. Curtains of smoke to screen our landings. Here come the first waves in Higgins boats. Not ghosts from Pearl Harbor, but American boys. Tom, Dick, and Johnny. The boys are used to play baseball and the vacant lot on Saturday afternoons. The youngsters that drove geloppies and sang the popular songs. You may have wondered sometimes if they'd ever amount to anything. Well, here they are, giving everything they've got. This is jungle. These assault waves are like a hand stretched out in a dark room, feeling their way. If they are stopped here, the main force landing behind them is stopped too. Contact with the enemy. Here come the landing craft infantry called LCIs. They're bringing a main fighting strength to back up the assault wave. In the hard way, the trucks come later. Even a Jap sniper can't camouflage his scent. Fresh troops forward, wounded to the rear. It's around the next bush. So they aren't always dead. Better be sure. Carried rocket gun. Takes close teamwork. And flamethrowers did this. After the LCIs have been emptied of men, the towering LSTs, landing ship tanks, move in. Bringing everything for the establishment of a beachhead. This succession of ships, all in their proper order, thousands of men and tons of supplies have been one purpose. To keep a thin line of riflemen fighting their way forward into the jungle. Buffaloes and alligators, smashing holes in the jungle wall to pass the ammunition. Do a lot of things, but they can't swim. Crush pillboxes. Or too later, the trucks roll in. But they can't go everywhere. Ammunition is being spent fast. For every finger squeezing a trigger, there are a hundred others. Pulling, hauling, and carrying. It's all part of the same job. Bob, why are there carrying? As soon as there's any place to phone to, there's a telephone line to do it. Final protective line against counter-attack must be prepared. You may be hit from anywhere, anytime. From the flanks, or from the rear, or from the air. Enemy dive bombers. Shot into the water. Costing less than a dozen of our own. It's concentrated on the destroyer, Bronson. In wreckage, are survivors. Exhausted. Some dying. Some dead. Some with clothes blown off by the concussion of bombs. A part of 208 survivors. You will remember the Bronson when they fight again. Back at Gloucester, it had begun to rain. Folks back home are eating Christmas dinner about now. Out here is the day after. And just another day. Just one more enemy. Mud. Information gained from prisoners confirms what we know. The advance is nearing its main objective. But every step forward means some men coming back on stretchers. Sometimes it takes too long for the stretchers to arrive. Medical officers scrubbing up for emergency treatment before evacuation. The country doctor, the city surgeon. Working together 25 hours out of the 24. Part of the price of a beach landing. Yes, it's a wounded chap. Receiving decent treatment and a cigarette. On the beach the next day, wreckage. Waters. They're going back to hospitals in rare area. All of these cannot be rubbed on. We all want him brought to the state. We are paid for this. They are doing so. He is not into temptation. One day of American living. Bought. And paid for.