The Ghost Mountain Boys - James E. Campbell [28]
On August 19, as the morning burned into midday and the tropical sun bore down on them, General Horii and his men marched with all the confidence of invaders certain of victory. Soldiers led the way. Then came more troops lugging mortars, machine guns, and field pieces, followed by Rabaul natives carrying ammunition.
Horii believed that his campaign was a sacred one: “To extend the light of the Imperial power” over the “Greater East Asian Co-prosperity Sphere” and to eliminate the “White Race from Asia.” A popular regimental song reflected similar sentiments: “Of Heavenly Japan / The Emperor’s power is clear / We must build a new World Order…/ While we have this weighty Mission / Even if in the waters, grass-grown corpses soak / Let us go, Comrades, with hearts united.”
By the time Horii, whom a lieutenant described as an “unsympathetic man,” reached the village of Soputa ten miles inland and set up camp in a coffee plantation, he was already frustrated with his troops’ progress. He feared a protracted struggle and worried over the reliability of his supply line, which extended by ship from Rabaul to Buna and, eventually, as he advanced, by carrier into the mountains. He had hoped that they might be able to navigate the trail on horseback, but by the time he got to Soputa, he realized that the terrain was far too rugged for horses, and that he had seriously underestimated the difficulty of the advance.
As little as Allied Headquarters in Brisbane knew about New Guinea, the Japanese may have known even less. Yokoyama and Horii had no maps or geographic surveys and no conception of the topographical hurdles and medical problems their troops would encounter. Horii’s faith in the inevitability of Japanese victory was illustrative of a broader Japanese conceit—“victory disease.” Encouraged by Japan’s stunning successes in Southeast Asia, “victory disease” caused its military leaders to ignore warning signs.
The impetuousness of the Japanese plan was in keeping with the Japanese Imperial army’s modus operandi. “Fighting spirit” was valued at the expense of strategy and planning. Patience and prudence were antithetical to the most revered of all of Japan’s martial virtues: action. Supply considerations were given little attention; troops were forced to make do with inferior weapons. In many cases, infantrymen carried a Type 38 bolt-action rifle that shot only five rounds. Grenades were left over from the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–05, and were highly unreliable. The Japanese did have two exceptional weapons, a wheel-mounted artillery gun (carried in pieces), and the Juki heavy machine gun. For the most part, though, the Imperial army relied on speed, surprise, and courage. Never concerned with heavy casualty rates, the Japanese regularly employed suicide squads and night attacks to strike terror into the hearts of its enemies.
On August 26, as the first rays of dawn cut through the enveloping night fog, General Horii began his advance from Kokoda down the track. His orders to his enthusiastic troops reiterated basic Japanese battlefield tactics. “Lay in wait,” Horii advised them, “and then go around the flank…Harass them and exhaust them by ceaseless activity. Finally, when they are completely exhausted, open the offensive…The enemy must never be allowed to escape.”
Lieutenant Hirano’s company commander had issued his enigmatic message days before. “In death there is life,” he said. “In life, there is no life.” Hirano, however, required no encouragement. “I will die at the foot of the Emperor,” he wrote in his diary. “I will not fear death! Long live the Emperor! Advance with this burning feeling and even the demons will flee!”
Before Horii could march on Port Moresby, however, his Nankai Shitai would need to conquer a whole succession of villages, beginning with Isurava, roughly six miles south of Kokoda. Anticipating only feeble resistance