The weather the previous few days had frankly been lousy.  The ships had been pitching and rolling in a way destined to make everybody who wasn't either a natural sailor or possessing good sea legs rather uncomfortable.  Alas, most of the men on board the fleet were neither.  Still, nobody begrudged the weather; it kept them hidden from eyes that would be very interested indeed at their presence.

As the sun broke over the horizon that morning, the fleet broke into two task groups.  TG Yoke headed to the north, while TG X-Ray steered south, towards the larger of the cluster of islands.  Simultaneously, escorting ships raced ahead to deliver a short, sharp bombardment.  Overhead, planes wheeled around the sky, swooping down to deliver their payloads, then return to their carriers.  Below, the transport vessels began disgorging men and machines into landing craft for the run to the beach.

In the landing craft, the men were tense and prepared for everything.  Everything, that is, except for what they got.  While to the north resistance was remarkably heavy, to the south the landing craft and amtracks were pretty much unopposed.  By the end of the first day, somewhere around 10000 men were well on their way to having landed on that island to the south.  The main enemy being reported was a nigh-on impassable jungle.  Still, nearly 1000 yards worth of progress had been made and the major objective was near at hand.

In the coming days and months the battle for this island would become a meatgrinder for both sides, chewing up men and machines and spitting them out with total disregard.  On that first day, however, the landing on the southern island gave no indication of what was to come.

The day was August 7th, 1942.  The island was Guadalcanal.  70 years ago, the War in the Pacific entered a new phase: the Allies went on the offensive.  That phase would continue until the end of the War.

Posted by: Wonderduck at 08:30 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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