Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1942-12-29
BY GEORGE WELLER.
Special Radio tc The Star and Chicago
Daily NeWs)

Special Radio tc The Star and Chicago
Daily News)
WITH AMERICAN FORCES IN
NEW GUINEA Dec. "a Delayed -
American fighters in this miasmic
battlefield continue to take the
measure of their Jap foes whose
every jungle trick among tropic trees
and underorush is outsmarted.
SPRAY trees" has been the order
of the still nameless American gen.
eral commanding both Australian
and American forces here. and this
order has been punctiliously OBJ
served
Twice today your correspondent
crossed that 60-foot, mud-choked
malarial stream which surrounds
the island by sea Once in squashy,
mud -smeared rubber boat run on
wires by an infantryman crouching
in the lee of a coconut log, and
once over crazyquilt bridge built
by engineers. Both times the bridge
and boat we're under fire. They
were constructed under fire.
So "dS hliOtllCl 0llOkC dlSO 1lCC0Cd
to approach this labyrinth of in
trenched Japs on this marshy
tongue of land. partly hidden under
coconut palms, which occupies the
western side Of the outthrust cape
between Buna Village and Buna
Mission and is called Government
Gardens. 1t is simply more sinking
Papuan swamp This bridge build
ing was all carried out by engineers
under Sergt Albert Texmunt of
Gladstone, Mich. His unit is COM
manded by 1t. Edwin Kohen of CAL
umet, Mich.
Every Man in Mudhole.
Crossing, lying half crouched in
the palpitating rubber boat with its
d-filled interior, this writer fol-
lowed the men commanded by Capt.
John L. Lehight of Mary, Ind, as
they crept methodically and darted
quickly from tree to tree. Every man
nearby lay in a mudhole behind a
log or thick -veined tree while the
rain battered on green shirts sour
with sweat. The smell Of the first
bodies came to us across Govern
ment Gardens as machine guns
chartered.
AS we lay in this forward post
food was dragged in by James E.
Gordon Of Chicago and John Leface
of Escananba, Mich. Then we spent
several minutes under a thick tree
with Corpl. Chester Curtis of Niles,
Mich; William Joynes Of Gerard
Ohio. and Bernis Porter of Atlanta
Ga. There was a Jap sniper on the
! other side of the Kunai patch and
We kept the trees between ourselves
and him while the ground shook
with the bump of our mortars. Said
Curtis, smiling:
That guy cannot get us. AS long
as they cannot throw those grenades
they fasten on the ends Of their
rifles and fire with blank cartridges
it's all right"
Fresh from the conflict raging
amid the trees ahead. there dropped
beside us to the ground, Vern Peters
of Waukesha, Wis who, with his
black, frontline mustache looks ex-
actly like Ernest Hemingway, ano
Gordon Moos, a big, determined
looking fellow of Oconomowoc, Wis.
the only infantryman 1 have seer
who wore leather gloves at this
filthy work Said MODS:
I'VE crossed the creek on the right
flank just little while ago but got
pinned down by their machine CUR
fire. Now we're feeling them out"
Tommy guns Chatter.
A thick chorus of tommy gun fire
started up ahead and continued 9
long time, as though confirming him
Lets CO." said Peters, matter Of
factly, and they did.
Skirting along the trees in order
to avoid the Jap sniper and only
going out once to examine a jar
pillbox about feet deep and Of
curious circular construction, like
the Whorl of a seashell. we made oul
way to the bridge crossing at Broker
Field Run-it is a jigsaw bridge with
shoulder high water underneath.
A gun spoke nearby but it wa!
ours: the sniper held his fire. Shell:
overhead were at the end of theil
downward swing. exploding nearby
In bunkers on the other side, still
with Jap blankets pinned up against
the low-hung walls of palmetto log!
resistant to our mortar fire. we
talked with Sergts. Adam Bennett o
Oshkosh, Wis: Edward Solaway O.
Detroit, Ezra Easter of San Diego
Philip Clark of New London, Wis.
and a little blue-eyed scrappel
named Orville BANTER of Spokane
Wash, with a tommy gun nearly a!
big as his torso. The time wa!
nearly ripe for the main attack to-
ward the beach, shortly before noon
Shippers Bullets Sing.
After talking quietly In the trench
we crawled out end every one tool
over behind piles of captured JaI
stuff, including beautifully chromet
radio receivers captured from JaI
marines.
Runner Edmond Warren Of Bill
lings, Mont, his shoulders heav!
with ammunition, burst over TIL
side and Topped down beside us
That sniper's bullets sang Wiling
VIKING overhead. Your correspon
dent crouched behind the battered
rusty cookstove that apparently has
fallen through the roof Of the NATIVE
hut, on stills. above US.
Remembering nearby. before tn