GUADALCANAL

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Sailed into the Slot and Iron Bottom Sound, past Suva Island at dawn. Arrived at the Guadalcanal dock, not to be confused in any way with a cruise ship terminal. The line handlers are bare footed! There are towers of containers and a small gazebo type structure with a couple of hammocks and a small fire. My guess it’s for the night watchmen. The gangway presents a challenge and it is one of the strangest configurations I have ever scene. Even the Security Offices was grinning. A group of locals in native dress (loincloths’) and body paint welcome us with drums and pipes and dance.
I can’t help imagining what the Marines felt when they first sighted the island. The jungle lowlands are backed by large volcanic peaks. These troops were not well trained or equipped but were masters of “on the job training”.
It will be hard to describe today’s tour. We set out in a van, three Americans, two Aussies and two Kiwis. Our guides, Jocelyn and Rachael and our driver Miso were all from different islands in the Solomons, of which Guadalcanal is but one of 900. The local population is poor and they are recovering from what they call the “tensions”, a three-year insurgency that lasted until 2001. Australian peace keepers are here and the island economy is slowly growing. They see a cruise ship just once or twice a year and it is a real big deal to them.
Like many islands in the early stages of development, trash is a problem. Used to everything being biodegradable, the custom is to toss trash out the window, out the door or just drop it. The houses are built of wood, thatch, tin, cinder-block or of all these materials at once. They are up on stilts to protect from flooding or tsunami. The Dec 24 tsunami destroyed the provincial capital of a western island. It appears that one building is for sleeping and another, open to the elements, is for all other purposes. The locals are the most friendly people I have met anywhere. They smile, wave and laugh when trouble strikes. They look well nourished and the children are adorable. School is not mandatory and is not free. About 10% of the kids go to school. Health care costs as well. There are clinics but the wait is long.
Our first stop was Bloody Ridge where the Marines faced a battle hardened Japanese force. This fighting lasted two days and the Marines held their ground. The American losses were few, compared to the Japanese. Much of the terrain today is cleared but at the time there was dense jungle to contend with. Off in the distance a thunderstorm was approaching.
Next we stopped at Hendersen Field, the focus of the fighting. Started by the Japanese to interrupt the allied supply line, it was completed by the Seabees and defended by the Marines. The Army Air Corp flew bombing raids from here. Today it is an International Airport. Here the thunder sounded like heavy guns pounding the field.
We stopped at the obligatory craft shop and were heading for the American War Memorial when the skies opened up. It’s hard to imagine so much water falling in so short a time. The two lanes on our side of the highway was waist deep so Miso attempted to cross the divider.
Yes, we got well and truly stuck, unable to move forward or back. Young men from the market place across the street attempted to free us but to no avail. The passengers were asked to move to the back of the van in order to add traction and the water was rising. The police arrived to take charge of the traffic, more men are encouraged to help and finally we are free, but not home free. Everyone including us is wet, the helpers and the police are soaked to the skin as are the locals lining the street and cheering us on.
We drive a couple of blocks and the locals indicate that the way forward is impassable. We take the back roads with rain falling so hard that there are waterfalls everywhere, from every wall and down every hill. When we join the main road again the building across the street is up to the windows in water. Yet, everyone is in good humor. Folks smile and wave at us. It is a wonderful feeling.
Then I think of the Marines and the Seabees and the Air Force dealing with this weather and the bugs and the sounds that are not thunder and I think that this was perfect weather to visit Guadalcanal.
This evening, when we pass Suva and head up the Slot there will be a brief ceremony in the rain. I know it will be well attended. We will transit the Slot at night and I’ll imagine the navel engagements, the coast watchers, and remember a young Naval Lt. swimming to shore after his PT boat is sunk.

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