The Ghost Mountain Boys - James E. Campbell [65]
One of Bailey’s second lieutenants remembers that despite the circumstances, Lieutenant Bailey never appeared discouraged. Jungle rot had left the skin on his ankles and feet as brittle as onionskin. The skin peeled off as he walked and blood seeped through his socks.
When, late in the day, Bailey called for the men to stop and set up camp, Stenberg was relieved. His muscles were shot. He breathed shallowly in the rarified air and chewed on a piece of foot-long sugarcane he had cut from one of the native gardens. The sugarcane hung like an amulet from a sock stretched and fastened to either end and worn around his neck.
Around him, men staggered; some fell to the ground and lay there as if dead. Men who could still walk searched for flat ground on which to set up their shelter halves. Some did not see any point in trying. After regaining some of their strength, a number of men tried to build fires, but the wood was soaked.
When all the men were situated, Bailey finally sat down. He removed his boots for the first time in days. Jastrzembski could see that his feet were raw, but Bailey never even grimaced. In fact, he told a few jokes, and the men listened and laughed.
A few even remember Bailey singing, which was odd because he was not a singer. Home was the theme: “Home on the Range” “Show Me the Way to Go Home.” The mood was lighter, and when Jastrzembski discovered a large vine, he called some of the guys over.
“Watch this,” he said, grabbing the vine and swinging. “I’m Tarzan.” Then he let out a deep woods yodel. The others joined in, each man trying to swing higher and farther than the rest.
That night, after taking care of his feet, Bailey treated his men to a recitation of his favorite poem—Robert Service’s “The Cremation of Sam McGee.” “There are strange things done in the midnight sun / By the men who moil for gold / The Arctic trails have their secret tales / That would make your blood run cold; / The Northern Lights have seen queer sights, / But the queerest they ever did see / Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge / I cremated Sam McGee.”
For Bailey it felt good to say the words. The poem reminded him of Katherine. In Indiana when they went out for a drive, Bailey would recite it for her.
But New Guinea was not the back roads of Indiana. Later that evening, it began to rain again, and it grew cold in the mountains. They were lucky, according to Jastrzembski, if they managed to doze for ten or fifteen minutes. Most stayed awake talking, trying to comfort themselves with fond memories of Australia.
Had Carl Stenberg overheard the talk, he would have reminded the men that Australia had not been all roses. Australian Imperial Force troops, who had fought overseas, had begun to return while the 32nd was still in Australia. They were national heroes, and they were worshipped. Australia is a huge country, but it was not big enough to accommodate both the 32nd and the returning AIF fighters. Russell Buys explains the problem. “These men came back to find their wives pregnant and their daughters knocked up. They knew that the American army was there, and they weren’t a bit happy about it.” Inevitably, brawls erupted in the streets and in the pubs of Brisbane and Melbourne. An Australian general described the confrontations as “a most despicable thing between allies.” Carl Stenberg recalled that when an outmanned group of American soldiers was jumped by a larger group of Australian soldiers, the Australians’ battle cry had been, “Put the bloody boots to ’em!” Things were so bad that General Harding assembled his officers and told them that he wanted them to make certain their men were avoiding “altercations with Australian soldiers…particularly when there is…liquor involved.”
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