Commanding General is highly displeased with the failure of the 27th Division on June twenty-third to launch its attack as ordered at King hour and the lack of offensive action displayed by the division in its failure to advance and seize objective O-5 when opposed by only small arms and mortar fire.
The failure of the 27th to advance in its zone of action resulted in the halting of attacks by the 4th and 2d Marine Divisions on the flanks of the 27th in order to prevent dangerous exposure of their interior flanks. It is directed that immediate steps be taken to cause the 27th Division to advance and seize the objectives as ordered.
These objectives were given dramatic names by the Army regiments: Hell’s Pocket, Death Valley, and Purple Heart Ridge. It was certainly true that the terrain was perfect for the dug-in Japanese defenders: visibility from the slopes of Mount Tapotchau and from the ridge gave them fields of fire to rake any attack up the valley. Holland Smith didn’t fully recognize the severity of the opposition, and, by the end of the day, the 106th Infantry had gained little, while the 165th Infantry had been “thrown back onto the original line of departure.”
From left, BGen Merritt A. Edson, Assistant Division Commander of the 2d Marine Division, confers with Col James P. Riseley and LtCol Kenneth F. McLeod, 6th Marines commander and executive officer, respectively, during a pause in the action. LtCol McLeod was killed several days after this photograph.
Department of Defense Photo (USMC) 82481
Meanwhile, the 2d Marine Division on the left was painfully slugging its way forward in the tortuous environs around Mount Tapotchau. The 4th Marine Division (on the right) pivoted east, driving fast into the Kagman Peninsula. There the ground was level, a plus, but covered with cane fields, a big minus, as the rifle companies well knew.
A platoon leader remarked:
The terrain here consisted of countless cane fields—one after another. And it was the same old story: in every field the company would lose a man or two. It was wonderfully quieting to the nerves to start into a growth of head-high cane, and wonder who would not be coming out on the other side! The Jap snipers who were doing the damage were dug in so deeply, and camouflaged so well, that it was impossible to locate them before they fired. And then it was too late; you were right on top of them, and they had nailed another one of your men—or maybe you! Then there was always that next cane field up ahead....
Some of the fields had been burnt out by the napalm-bombing of our planes. This gave us greatly increased observation as we went through them, but clouds of choking dust arose from the ashes to plague us and dirty our weapons. With water so scarce, one of our chief sources of liquid sustenance was sugar cane juice. We’d whack off a segment of the cane with our combat knives, then chew and suck on it till only the dry fibers were left. In these burnt-out fields we weren’t even able to do this, as the cane was spoiled and tasted lousy.
Along with the death toll in the cane fields came the physical demands placed on the troops by the hot tropical climate. Lieutenant Chapin noted small, human issues that loomed large in the minds of the assault troops:
All this time the sun was broiling down on top of us. Our canteens had been empty for hours. Everyone was absolutely parched.... Finally we did stop, as the effects of heat exhaustion and lack of water started to become apparent. [Our company commander] arranged for some water to be brought up to our position. When the cans arrived, everyone crowded thirstily around, and we had to order the men to disperse.... Then each platoon leader rationed out a can of the precious liquid amongst his men. As was the age-old Marine tradition, we waited till all our men had their share before we took ours. The water was lukewarm, rusty, and oily as it came out of the cans, but it still tasted like nectar!