WEIGHING THEIR SACRIFICE New Guinea, 1942.

I don't believe that Bruce Kingsbury gave up his life willingly. But he was caught in a place and a time where the description “willingly” has a different connotation than in “normal” times.

The time was August, 1942 and the Japanese Empire was making a grasp for complete control of the world’s largest tropical island, New Guinea. To secure their hold Japanese soldiers would have to capture the tiny village of Port Moresby (above), on the island’s south eastern coast.

According the maps., the Japanese merely had to land at Buna on the northern coast of New Guinea,  and then march march 120 miles south  on the Kokoda Track to reach Port Moresby.  Less than 1,000 air miles south of there was the port of Darwin, capital of Australia’s Northwest Territory, and just 1,100 air miles beyond that was Brisbane, on Australia’s east coast. Brisbane was the primary port of entry for men and equipment coming from America. Bomb that port and Australia would be effectively, cut off.

 Japanese forces commanded by Major General Tomitaro Horii, landed at Buna, on 21 July, 1942, and immediately began to push south. And immediately the island became the enemy of both sides. 

George H. Johnston observed in his book, “The Toughest Fighting in the World”, The Japanese troops "...covered the sixty miles…from Buna (to the Kokoda Pass) in five days. To push ahead another thirty miles took fifty days,…”  The problem for the Japanese was that there were no maps of the interior of New Guinea. 

First, the Kokoda track was in actuality a narrow  trail, little more than a foot wide, which climbed the 14,000 foot high Owen Stanley Mountain Range in a series of switchbacks. 

Adding the switchbacks and stream crossings, the actual ground distance between Port Moresby and Buna was closer to 150 miles. 

After crossing each razor back ridge, the trail plunged down a  "V" shaped valley, at the bottom of each was a vicious raging whitewater stream. Then there was the climate. 

New Guinea was a place where, explained one soldier, “It rains daily for nine months and then the monsoon starts.”  It was a place plagued by tropical heat, mud, mountains, malaria, monotony and “moozies”, as the Aussie diggers described the coastal mosquitoes. 

Went one popular story, two moozies selected a tasty staff sergeant sleeping with a hole in his mosquito netting. Asked the first moozie,“Shall we take him down to the beach and eat him?” “Na”, replied the second, “if we take him down to he beach, the big chaps will get him.” 

Went another story, an anti-aircraft gunner mistook a moozie for a zero fighter and one shell set his tail on fire. The offended moozie threw a rock at the gunner, beaning him on the noggin. And along with malaria the soldiers of both sides suffered from dengue fever, dysentery, scrub typhus and dozens of other unnamed debilitating illnesses.

Bruce Kingsbury had been born in 1918, just after his parents had emigrated from England. And as often happens, the child of immigrants adopted his new country to a degree his parents never could. Bruce rejected his father’s white collar career and instead opted to work on a sheep station like his livelong friend, Allen Avery. In 1940 Bruce and Allen joined the army together. After they finished basic training, Bruce became engaged to marry Miss Leila Bradbury. But they shipped out for the Middle East before Bruce could obtain a marriage license.

At the top of the Kokoda track, on 9 August, 1942, a vicious struggle was fought for the the village and tiny airstrip at Kokoda, half way to Port Moresby. 

The 5,000 man Japanese Imperial force believed they were opposed by 1,200 Aussie diggers. In fact, there just 77 Australian soldiers blocking the Japanese advance to Port Moresby. The diary of one Japanese soldier explained the obstacles. “The sun is fierce here…Thirst for water, stomach empty. The pack on the back is heavy. My arm is numb like a stick…We reach for the canteens…from force of habit, but they do not contain a drop of water.”

Eventually the line could hold no longer, and the Japanese stumbled ahead, down the slopes toward Port Moresby.

The seventh Australia division saw action against Vichy French units in Lebanon.  Upon being recalled, the 7th division sailed from Alexandria, Egypt on 30 January  1942.  They arrived in Melbourne, Australia on 16 March. Bruce was granted a week at home to see his parents and Leila. After further training and re-equipment for jungle fighting, he shipped out of Brisbane on 5 August. This time Bruce was bound for Port Moresby.

There were now some 2,500 Japanese troops descending the Kokoda track toward Port Moresby, and the best the Australians could do was to rush the first 400 soldiers off the transports up the track to the jungle village of Isurava to stop them. 

Author William Manchester tried to describe that desperate march up the track, but he could have just as well been describing the Japanese march down the track as well. “In places the winding trail, a foot wide at most, simply disappeared. It took an hour to cut through a few yards of vegetation. The first man in a file would hack away with a machete until he collapsed of exhaustion…

"In that climate the life expectancy of the men who lost consciousness and were left behind was often measured in minutes.”

The Japanese moved down the trail against stiffening resistance. 

Noted a modern travel guide; “Scattered along the trail…are the numerous Australian pits. Each is always sited on a small rise, tucked away from three to twenty feet from that narrow slippery, root ridden life line.” 

In each of those pits, unseen and unheralded, Australian solders risked their lives to slow the Japanese advance, and the Japanese soldiers risked their lives to overcome them. 

The diary of Lieutenant Toshiro Kuroki noted that rice supplies were running so low the soldiers in the front lines were obsessed with the endless hunt for “…potatoes! …You do not find smiling faces among the men in the ranks in New Guinea. They are always hungry….every other word has something to do with eating. At the sight of potatoes their eyes gleam and their mouths water.” 

Between Kokoda and Isurava “the track often climbed up gradients so steep that it was heartbreaking labor for burdened men to climb even a few hundred yards." And yet, on both sides, they climbed.

At Isurava (above), using the time so dearly paid for, the Aussies established their headquarters unit on a ridge line, overlooking yet another narrow river valley. 

But the Japanese  found a parallel track and at dawn on 28 August, 1942  fell upon the Aussie flank. The diggers resisted but reduced by disease and hunger, were driven back. 

The next morning, suffering under heavy Australian fire, the Japanese climbed the almost vertical slope in a frontal attack.  The audacity  broke through the Australian lines and captured the ridge top. They had now isolated the headquarters unit. 

General Horii wrote that night, “The annihilation of the Australians is near, but there are still some remnants…and their fighting spirit is extremely high.”

The line of communications for the Aussie headquarters unit had to be restored at once, or the entire 400 man defensive force might be destroyed. A force was thrown together from the survivors of several platoons overrun the day before, including Corporal Bruce Kingsbury, and his mate, Allen Avery. They were ordered to drive the Japanese away.

Twice the desperate diggers threw themselves against the desperate Japanese. Twice the Japanese gave ground, but refused to retreat. 

And that was when Bruce Kingsbury (above) grabbed a borrowed machine gun and led yet another charge, reaching a large bolder half way up the slope, from which he could rake the Japanese positions. An exhausted Lieutenant Colonel Phil Rhoden watched. “You could see his Bren gun held out and his big bottom swaying as he went ....followed by Alan Avery. They were cheerful. They were going out on a picnic, almost.” 

Another witness wrote, “The fire was so heavy (from the Japanese) that the undergrowth was completely destroyed within five minutes.” 

Private Shegenori Doi, on the other side of that undergrowth, wrote, “I remember that an Australian soldier, wearing just a pair of shorts, came running toward us…this warrior was far braver than any in Japan.” 

Bruce’s mate, Allen Avery, wrote of Bruce, “He came forward…and he just mowed them down. He was an inspiration to everybody else around him.”

Bruce’s citation for the Victoria Cross (above) says that he “…rushed forward firing his Bren Gun from the hip through terrific machine gun fire and succeeded in clearing a path through the enemy…(Then he) was seen to fall to the ground shot dead, by the bullet from a sniper hiding in the wood….Private Kingsbury displayed a complete disregard for his own safety. His initiative and superb courage made possible the recapture of the position which undoubtedly saved the Battalion Headquarters…” 

Allen Avery charged into the jungle after the sniper, but never found him. Then he hefted Bruce up onto his back and alone Allen carried Bruce to an aid post. But by the time they got there, Bruce was dead.

The battle of Isurava lasted for four long days and nights. The fighting was without quarter. In the end, out of ammo and with over half their strength down with wounds and malaria, the Aussies were forced to withdraw. Once again, the Japanese advanced, now almost within sight of Port Morseby.  

But General Horii had already been informed that American troops had landed on Guadalcanal Island, 1,500 miles to the west.  His men fighting in the interior of New Guinea would receive no reinforcements until the airstrip on that distant island was recaptured. The sacrifice of his soldiers on New Guinea had been judged a wasted effort, while in the view of history the sacrifice of Bruce Kingsbury had been judged worthy. 

But for the soldiers on both sides the judgments made by historians were meaningless. All that mattered was that at this time and this place their sacrifice had been asked for and had been given, on both sides. And that is always the soldier's duty.

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