The Atlantic Express
by: justjames17
(© 2004 -2007 by the author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions
are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Chapter 59
Kokoda Track
Part 2
Fox Hound and Stuart had delivered the Commando battalion to
Port Moresby and were moored alongside after the men and stores had been
unloaded, the Stuart was to take on board the wounded men from the base hospital
for carriage back to Australia, while Fox Hound awaited further orders from
Colombo. The hot busy port was abustle as a small tanker had arrived bringing
fuel to supply both the ground transport and the squadron of RAAF Beaufighters
based there. The tanker had been escorted by a corvette and a sloop that tied up
near the two destroyers, as the day wore on the tanker had finished pumping her
load ashore into the camouflaged fuel tanks half buried in the ground when the
wail of the air raid siren shattered the peace.
The military personnel on the wharves ran for cover as the drone of approaching
aircraft was heard, the steady thrum thrum of their engines set Charles teeth on
edge as he ordered action stations. The four warships were filled with the sound
of alarm bells and running feet as their crews dashed to man their guns. High
above the oncoming bombers droned inexorably towards the city and harbour as the
long-range guns opened fire their shells pock marking the afternoon sky with
dirty black flowers as they exploded about the aircraft. The four warships added
their firepower to the battle and three aircraft were hit and two turned away
while the third wobbled before slowly beginning to dive earthwards trailing
smoke behind it.
The mortally hit plane suddenly exploded in a massive blast shattering it into
small pieces as its bomb load exploded, the rest flew on regardless of their
stricken comrades. The guns roared and spewed shells flinging them high at the
oncoming enemy, the stained sky looked obscene as the smoke of battle besmirched
its peaceful beauty. The guns kept the planes at altitude but couldn't stop them
releasing the deadly loads that whistled ear piercingly down towards their
waiting prey. The crump of explosions sounded as huge clouds of smoke ascended,
the sticks of bombs walked towards the harbour their main target was the fuel
tanks and the ships caught at the wharves unable to escape.
Charles watched the explosions approaching on long legs one bomb hit a fuel
storage tank and the tank erupted furiously in a huge ball of fire, the heat and
shock wave blasted out causing the Fox Hound and the other three warships to
heel over. Another bomb struck the area between the tanks and the wharf where
the tanker was moored, cement, dirt and smoke leapt skywards but the next cruel
missile landed midships on the tanker penetrating hie steel hull and exploding
in her fume filled hull. The ship lay there momentarily before it appeared to
leap from the water as a huge ball of fire swelled from her ruptured deck, the
hull split apart by the force of the explosion sending steel shrapnel flying
through the area.
The bridge crews on the ships ducked for cover as the shards of hot steel zipped
across them, the sounds of steel striking steel sounded the death knell of the
tanker. The sloop's funnel was sliced in half and the top part disappeared over
the side into the churning sea whipped up by the force of the blast and the
flying pieces of the stricken ship splashing about the harbour. By the time the
smoke had cleared there was nothing to be seen of the tanker except the tip of
her blackened mast; the wharf area was dotted with fires and pieces of her hull
flung in all directions. The bombers having carried out their deadly deed made
off out to sea while the twin engined Beaufighters swarmed skywards in hot
pursuit their radial engines growling as they swept overhead.
The ground forces appeared from their air raid shelters and looked about them at
the devastation left behind by the raiders and they began to clear up the mess
as the fire brigade trucks moved close to the still burning fuel tank playing
their hoses on the remaining undamaged tank trying to keep it cool and avoid a
second explosion. The guns' crews on the four warships cleared the spent shell
casings and swabbed out the guns while the damage control crews checked the
ships for damage.
Peter's battalion was well on their way towards the Owen Stanleys by truck,
their unit was bouncing along in the big 3 tonners, all the men were on edge as
they looked out at the plantations and strips of jungle with native villages
dotted here and there. A convoy passed heading towards Port Moresby and they
could see a few wounded men wrapped in blood stained bandages bouncing about as
the trucks passed on the rough dirt road, it brought the fact they were going
into danger much more to the forefront of their minds.
The trucks ground on lurching and grinding up the now steeper track as the tall
forbidding jungle covered mountains loomed ahead almost blotting out the sky.
The trucks began the climb up the foothills towards the drop off point at Owens'
Corner their gearboxes whining as they strained up the gradually increasing
incline. Peter and his men lurched about in the rear while their packs and gear
slipped and slid along the metal floor, the stink of hot oil and metal showed
the strain the trucks were under as they climbed through the patches of jungle
amidst the cleared fields scattered along the rough track.
25 long bone jarring miles passed before they crawled into Owens' Corner and
pulled up in the area piled with supplies and men, the native bearers were
queued up in lines to collect their loads that they would carry up the track to
the troops returning with any wounded men they could bring back down the steep
track. The commandos climbed down the heat making them immediately break out in
perspiration as they sorted out the packs and supplies. The colonel called the
men to attention and began informing them of what was ahead of the unit, the
long incredibly difficult climb up the track to reach Isurava where the CMF
battalions had fallen back to after the advancing Japanese had driven them from
the town of Kokoda.
While they were getting organised a battery of 25pounder guns were being
manhandled to be sent up the track, mules were to move the guns as far as
possible before the gunners and local bearers would take over physically moving
them up the steep boggy inclines and declines of the mountains. This feat was
going to severely tax the men if it was even possible to carry out the
operation, the commandos watched the struggle even using the mules it was
difficult over the terrain that was still reasonably level and dry, as they
progressed higher up the track it turned into a quagmire of boot sucking sticky
glutinous mud. This terrain was incredibly hard on men never mind attempting to
haul heavy guns up through the narrow steep track, not only forcing the guns up
but also widening the narrow sections to accommodate the guns passage.
After the colonel's instructions they heard from an intelligence officer who
informed them of what units they would be fighting, and the current positions up
between Isurava and Kokoda. The commandos realised they had one huge task ahead
of them and hoped the troops facing the enemy could hold out till they arrived.
While they were being informed the bearers were being sorted out and given the
supplies to accompany the commandos up the mountains. As soon as the briefings
were over the unit was ordered to march out, the men shouldered their packs and
weapons and moved out up the slope towards the mountains soon catching up with
and passing the gun battery as they struggled up the slope. The recalcitrant
mules were whinnying in protest to the task as they began digging their hooves
in and refused to pull the guns.
The jungle closed in the further up the Imita Ridge they moved the heat built
and soon their jungle greens were saturated with sweat, their training at Cairns
seemed a long time ago and the heat here was even worse than in the jungle back
there. The constant strain on their aching legs as they climbed was torment; the
biting stinging insects attracted to their sweat drove the men mad. They crested
the ridge and began descending into the valley below; the down slope was nearly
as hard on the men as the upside as they worked their slow slippery way down the
slick wetness. Men took tumbles and slid down on their backs or bellies until
they came up against a tree to stop their descent, their uniforms now filthy
with caked clinging foul smelling mud to add to their discomfort.
Their packs webbing ground into their flesh and muscle while the sweat irritated
and aggravated their problems blisters began to form adding to their pain. The
unit struggled on and bivouacked in the valley as the darkness fell over the
mountains, their night was a misery of mosquitos buzzing and biting the men
keeping them awake. By morning they were exhausted but had to eat some rations
before forcing themselves to tackle the long uphill stretch to reach the village
of Iorabaiwa at the top of the next long climb, the further up the track they
struggled the wetter it became, steps had been cut into the track to facilitate
the climbing. The strain of lifting each heavy mud encrusted soggy boot was
torture and their muscles shook with the stress. A continual stream of native
bearers passed them returning down the track to rest before returning bearing
their heavy loads, these Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels made the troops feel inadequate as
they almost showed no strain as they carried the supplies.
The thick green morass of jungle shrouded over the track dripping moisture from
the last rains, spattering the gasping panting men below, the fetid stench of
rotting vegetation and fallen timber filled their flaring nostrils as they
laboured on like automatons. Day after day they struggled on higher and higher,
their tortured bodies ached from head to toe, nerves and muscles screaming for
rest but onward ever onward the climbed. Eventually they neared their
destination gunfire could be heard spasmodically through the filtering green
mass of living plants they
straggled into the village of Isurava to be greeted by the thin fever wracked
forms of the men of the battalion holding the cunning and much more experienced
enemy at bay.
Peter and his company had no time to relax or recuperate from their arduous trek
the enemy were on the move and fusillades of gunfire whined and whistled through
the hot humid air. Peter led his tired troops forward while the other two
platoons dropped like dead men gasping on the wet muddy morass. The commandos
crept well dispersed along each side of the track from the village towards the
enemy's line, a shot rang out and Peter felt the hot wind as it narrowly missed
his face but behind him he heard a gurgling groan and the thud of a falling body
as his men threw themselves down and peered through the thick foliage looking
for the sniper.
A second shot rang out and the bullet hit a man's pack, but the flash of the
muzzle was seen and a hail of bullets hosed into the sniper's lair half way up a
tall eucalypt tree. The bullets spattered splinters from the tree and killed the
hidden soldier whose lifeless body crashed through the branches to land with a
sickening thud onto the muddy ground. Peter climbed to his feet and their medic
moved to aid their wounded comrade, unfortunately the round had entered his
throat slicing through the man's jugular causing him to bleed to death while
they were pinned down. Peter removed the dead man's dog tags and the platoon
moved quietly and stealthily on scanning the impenetrable green mass surrounding
them.
A hundred yards from the ambush site Peter held up his hand bringing the men to
a halt, he had spotted a Japanese soldier ahead, the man had his back turned to
them and Peter wondered just what he was doing as his right arm was moving and
his rifle was leaning against a nearby tree trunk. As Peter watched the young
soldier's head arched back and his cap tumbled off falling to the ground as his
body tensed and his hips arched forward. Peter couldn't believe his eyes this
young sentry was wanking his cock not even facing up the track where the
Australian forces were, he obviously felt that the sniper would take care of any
infiltrators and he being young and incredibly horny being out here without any
sex decided to relieve his aching balls.
Peter crept forward silently and stood close behind the frantically jacking
young man he could hear his hissing breath as he clenched his teeth preparing to
spew his sperm out onto the plants in front of him. Peter waited watching him
the lad's contorted face was screwed up, eyes tight closed as his climax raced
through his fit young body. Peter watched the first spurt leave the crimson
swollen knob arcing through the steamy air, he knew the lad was lost in his
climax and would hear nothing as he cat like crossed the last few feet and threw
his left arm about the lad's straining arched throat cutting off his cries as he
slammed the commando knife into the boy's spine severing his spinal column, he
held the quivering lad tight against his chest then slid his arm up pulling the
lad's gurgling head back slicing his throat from ear to ear with his razor sharp
blade.
The young sentry was now limp and twitching, his semen spattered on the ground
joined by his pulsing blood as Peter wiped his knife blade on the dead lad's
camouflaged shirt to clean off the blood before dropping his lifeless body to
the mud where it lay like a bundle of old clothes tossed casually aside. He
looked coldly and calmly down and saw that his victim was very young; he didn't
look as if he shaved as yet by the fine growth of black fuzz on his top lip.
Peter felt a twinge of pity for the boy but then his common sense kicked in; if
the lad had seen him first he'd have had no qualms about firing his rifle and
trying to kill him. He bent down and rolled the limp lifeless body away and it
fell into a gully alongside the track and splashed into the fast flowing creek
in the bottom.
Ahead they heard the crump of a mortar firing and the sound of the round
whooshing overhead above the trees, the faint explosion them told them it was
aiming at their lines and they were still unseen. The men crept on carefully,
until the sound of the mortar was close, Peter led his troops slipping and
sliding down into the gully and they crept through the knee-deep rushing water
to skirt the emplacement. He planned to creep up out of the cully after they had
passed the mortar then check out the lay of the land.
They paddled through the rushing creek tripping and struggled up the muddy
slippery bank to hold position at the edge where they peered from under the
plants at the Japanese position. There were approximately 80 soldiers scattered
about the clearing digging in to make trenches, the mortar emplacement was on
their right with a machinegun emplacement dug in covering it from up the track.
Peter and his men were behind the emplacements and as most of the troops were
busy digging holes their rifles was in piles scattered about the area. Peter
indicated to two men to toss grenades at the two emplacements while he and the
rest opened fire on the unprepared troops.
Two grenades arced through the air to land in or near the emplacements as Peter
and the rest opened fire at the busily digging men, the grenades exploded
flinging shrapnel about killing or wounding the gunners as the remaining troops
stopped in mid dig shocked at the sudden attack. A few quick thinkers dropped
their entrenching tools running towards their weapons while an officer drew his
pistol firing in the general direction of Peter's men. Peter aimed his Owen gun
and cut the officer down as he fell his pistol flew through the air to land in
the muddy hole where two of his dead troops lay. Those uninjured men had reached
their piled rifles and they dropped to the mud chambering a round as they
returned fire. While a huge shirtless shaven headed n.c.o. waving his
Sumari sword in one hand and firing his Nambu pistol in his other ran towards
their position screaming in Japanese.
To be continued...
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Posted: 02/15/08