War Experiences of Bill Frost of Company "C", 147th Field Artillery Regiment

In the spring of 1940 I came home to Fort Pierre after two terms of schooling at Iowa State Teachers college due to the fact that I had run out of money for further education.

The war in Europe had been in progress for several months and I had a gut feeling that my immediate future would be taken care of because conscription or the draft into the armed forces was being re-introduced and the local National Guard was soon to be inducted into the Federal service. I had a choice, either wait for the draft and take my chance or join the national guard and start military life with the people I grew up with. I took the easy option – I joined the guard, Battery C, 147th Field Artillery Regiment.

I enjoyed Thanksgiving at home, then we boarded a troop train at Pierre South Dakota, and we were off to Fort Ord in California. As far as I was concerned, the trip to the coast by train was an experience in itself.

We were only supposed to be in Federal service for one year but it turned out to be considerably longer. The next few months were spent in training for all aspects of warfare including war games up and down the west coast.

Our tenure in the U.S. Army was suddenly increased to 18 months and someone somewhere decided that the 147th be stationed in the Philippines so we were uprooted and transported to San Francisco and placed on a tiny island in the middle of the bay (Angel Island) to get ready for embarkation. Another Thanksgiving came and went and we were herded onto a troop transport, and the USS Holbrook was ready to shove off. The ship’s horn bellowed, the ship’s lines were off and nothing happened. The transport refused to move. We were stuck in the mud at the dock. High tide had not been achieved yet and the question was, “How do you move the ship?” You rock the ship until it gets loose. There was a brain on board who decided to assemble all of the troops on the port side and then have them run full tilt to the starboard and then back again to the port side and then repeat the operation and sure enough the ship started rocking and we pulled loose and away from the dock.

In the meantime I was informed that KP duty was my lot that evening. If ever there was a method devised to test a man’s seamanship, this was the ultimate – working in a ship’s galley the first night out. However the obvious consequences of this detail I put out of mind and carried out my duty. I survived and I knew then that I would never succumb to seasickness.

The next stop was Pearl Harbour and we arrived there on Sunday, November 21, 1941. The place was a beehive of activity as a full alert was in force at the time. Despite the alert we were allowed to venture into Honolulu, so with a dollar in my pocket I set out, had a good time sightseeing , had dinner and went to a movie. I got back to the ship just a few hours before we shoved off.

About the second night into the Central Pacific we ran into some bad weather, high winds, rain and high seas. Watching the big waves breaking over the bow of the ship was not a comforting sight. At this time as we were going west, the Japanese fleet was headed south into Hawaiian waters.

Eventually we heard the news about Pearl Harbor and our chances of getting back to civilian life was put on hold for the duration.

At this time I might mention that prior to the start of hostilities we were sailing in the Pacific with all the ships running lights on and a large American flag painted on both sides of the sip, lit up with spotlights at night. We were well advertised. I might also add that through the efforts of everyone on board many gallons of black paint was used to transform the ship to a wartime vessel.. The flags were the first items to be blacked out and blackout curtains to all doorways and hatches were hastily erected.

The next few days we cruised in a large zig zag circle waiting on orders from the War department on where to go because the military minds of that time figured it would be foolhardy to try and get to the Philippines. It was at this stage of our journey that we started running out of water. So a good shower and a shave were out of the question. Food was also getting short and we received a sandwich and a piece of fruit for lunch and not much more than that for dinner at night. A navy transport that had been running alongside of us had enough water so a plan to tie the ships together and shoot a hose across to our dwindling water supply was devised. The convoy had to slow down to carry out this exercise and the cruiser USS Pensacola and two destroyers were hovering about like mother hens. Three or found inch hawsers were shot across and anchored but then the two ships decided to lurch in opposite directions and the ropes parted with a bang which sounded like a cannon going off. Eventually enough lines were shot across to secure the two ships and we started taking on water. Meanwhile a navy band on the other ship assembled on the aft end of their ship and we were entertained with a band concert. That night it rained and we didn’t need any water. Everyone showed up on deck with a bar of soap and lather was everywhere, on bodies, clothes and hair and also praying that the rain didn’t cease. It didn’t and the mission was accomplished.

The following is an excerpt from a story written about General MacArthur: “MacArthur still believed reinforcements would be sent. In fact a convoy of seven vessels escorted by the cruiser Pensacola was on its way to Manila when the war broke out. The convoy was carrying a field artillery brigade with twenty 75mm guns, eighteen P-40s, fifty two A-24 dive bombers and considerable supplies of ammunition. On December 12th the convoy was re-routed to Brisbane Australia and after a brief stop in Suva, finally reached our destination.

A camp had been set up for us at one of the race courses in Brisbane and as we marched along the suburban streets towards our billets, the local citizenry emerged from their houses to witness the procession. They quietly stared at us, probably overawed and we in turn stared at them due to the state of unreality we were in, brought on by the swift turn of events.

On reaching the race track we checked in, found a tent we could call our own, got paid, received instructions on what to do and how to act in this land down under. All this time we had been working up a great thirst and Australia had a great beer, the race track bar had been opened for us and that was a ‘happy hour’ at its best.

We all received leave to check out downtown Brisbane and needless to say everyone had a great time. Families living close to the race track invited us into their homes for a visit and late supper which was a great way to become acquainted with Australian people and their way of life.

All too soon this brief sojourn in Brisbane came to an end and we were loaded on the smelly old troop ship once again and heading north and I don’t know what they had in mind for us but they diverted our convoy to Darwin. On the way, at the northern most tip of Australia we met up with the remnants of the Asiatic fleet, the cruiser Houston, a couple of destroyers, navy tender and a couple of smaller boats. The convoy then proceeded to Darwin.

The regiment stayed in Darwin six months, from January to July mostly uneventful except on February 19 when we had some unwelcome visitors in the skies above – about 100 Japanese war planes flying over our camp on their way to Darwin and then pounding that place for about an hour, and after that initial raid, a daily sortie of a few planes for thirty days. From then on we were busy setting up our guns along the highway into Darwin, cutting fire lanes in heavily wooded areas, going on patrols after an air raid and plenty of guard duty. Those in the know informed us that an invasion could be expected at any time. It never came and after a period of time the danger lessened. In July 1942 our brigade headed south by truck convoy to Alice Springs and then by troop train to Ballarat Victoria. A little rest and relaxation, a little training and frequent weekend passes to Melbourne. It was on one of these end of the week journeys that I encountered my greatest war experience.

I was feeling particularly brave and decided to go ice skating and at the same time telling myself that this was not what I wanted to do. Once I was out on the ice I realized that this was definitely not what I wanted to do. All of a sudden – whack – I was tripped up and flattened and as I looked up I saw this fresh faced girl with bouncy hair, mischievous eyes and big grin that boiled over into full blown laughter at my predicament. At that instant I said to myself, “Frost, you have struck the ‘mother lode’.” She helped me up but no apologies were offered, but then how does one apologise for something that was destined to happen. I then introduced myself to a Ruth Dowsett. For four or five weekends in a row I made the trip to Melbourne and on one of those occasions I asked her to marry me. She said yes but the official engagement was put on hold and it came later.

Once again I found myself on a troop train bound for Brisbane where I started from almost a year ago. Here we spent a period of time waiting for what, I don’t know. While there I had a week’s leave to go to Melbourne but travelling time was included so I had only three days to spend with Ruth. I had two weeks in Brisbane sorting mail at the army post office. Quite interesting and the best part was getting mail from Ruth quicker.

Our next encampment was near Rockhampton and it was there that things started to happen. The army decided to form a unit to serve as transport invasion specialists. This entailed loading trucks with supplies and driving off on the second wave of invasions. The ships to be used were LSTs (Landing ship Tanks) a large flat bottomed vessel with large doors in front and a ramp. The ships would slide up on shore, down with the ramp and trucks or whatever would drive off. The first battalion of the 147th of which I was a member was chosen for this operation. Thereafter we were known as the 260th Field Artillery (minus guns).

Also while in Rockhampton I had a temporary assignment as a guard in a military prison for U.S. personnel. The guard’s job was to take prisoners as work details to various locations. Standing there with a gun in my hand watching the GIs working was not my idea of army life, however I put on my no nonsense face and we got along fine.

We said farewell to Rockhampton and proceeded further north to Townsville to collect trucks for our new role in the war. To be honest, at this time in my life I didn’t know the difference between double clutching and bird watching. After reaching Townsville we were transported to a truck compound which contained many old trucks which had seen better days. I thought to myself I hope the brass doesn’t think that the drivers are as expendable as the vehicles appear to be. However I picked out a truck, got into it, started it, found a gear that I liked and drove back to camp in that mode. We had some excellent tutors in our midst and in no time we all mastered the art of truck driving.

Our first invasion, Woodlark Island, turned out to be unopposed. We landed there at night, drove off the LSTs like veterans, and deposited our supplies, found a field kitchen that had been set up, had some hot food and then fast tracked back to the ship. I don’ know what happened to the rest of the drivers because only about ten of us made it back to the vessel before it shoved off. A couple of days later we pulled into Milne Bay on the southernmost tip of New Guinea minus the rest of the battalion. At any rate they arrived there about three weeks later. We parked our trucks close to another unit and arranged to have our meals in their mess hall. While there we found an LST that was bound for Kiriwina Island with supplies so we offered our services and our vehicles were loaded up with supplies and we were off. Kiriwina is a beautiful place in the Trobiand Island group, white sandy beaches and crystal clear water. We stayed there a week and then it was back to Milne Bay to wait for the rest our unit.

While there I was offered a week’s furlough in Melbourne. I was suppose to go by ship but at the last minute as I was preparing to go I was told that my name was omitted from the passenger list by some error. In other words somebody goofed. While I was off somewhere feeling very sorry for myself I was suddenly summoned and informed that a plane was taking off in about an hour. Be on it – and I was!

With much joy I eventually got to Melbourne and it was then and there Ruth and I became officially engaged. A week is like a blink of an eye, it doesn’t last long and by train and ship I was back in New Guinea.

We left Milne Bay on a Liberty ship bound for Oro Bay on the west coast of NG. The next morning out at approximately 7 a.m. as I was preparing a ‘tasty breakfast’ with my C rations, the Liberty ship came to a screeching shuddering halt in the middle of the ocean. We were threading our way through a chain of island and there we were high and dry on a reef, wedged tight. We were about fifty miles from our destination and apparently an SOS was sent out because within a few hours two destroyers arrived and ready to take us off.

After all personnel were transferred to the waiting ships, the navy fed us a hot meal, handed out cokes, candy bars and a carton of cigarettes each. Then they told us to sit tight up against the ship’s superstructure and not to go near the railing as this was going to be a fast ride. It was an exhilarating ride for the 50 miles we had to go.

Oro Bay was an uninviting, rat infested hell hole. We were camped just metres from the ocean, no beach to speak of and just plain yuk as far as I was concerned. From there our second invasion occurred – Gasmata on the island of New Britain. In we went on the second wave. When my turn came to go off I drove to the elevator and it lowered me to the exit point and as I drove off the ship three navy planes were bombing and strafing Japanese positions about 50 metres on my right. I shot out of the ship’s orifice, past Japanese bunkers, not knowing if any of the enemy were still in them. I found the supply dump where I was supposed to go. With gun fire crackling all around me the truck was unloaded. I didn’t waste any time getting out of there and back to the ship. As I approached the ship they were getting ready to depart but sailors on duty waved me on and I made it. Once on board I discovered we had four prisoners taken from the bunkers I passed on the way out. I sat in on an impromptu interrogation between a Marine sergeant and one prisoner. It was interesting but nothing much was accomplished. That night I was down below in a sleeping compartment when a general alarm was sounded. We were under attack, a sailor came through dogging down all exits and there I was, stuck down below. I heard a lot of gunfire and bombs dropping but we were not hit. It didn’t do my claustrophobia any good though.

Back in Oro Bay I had a couple of nights sleep, a few meals and it was back to Gasmata with another load of supplies. This time I remained in that location for a week, transporting marines from one place to another. While there we experienced an air raid one night when three enemy bombers came over and the air was filled with tracers and anti aircraft explosions as the searchlights picked up the planes right away. It was like a fourth of July fireworks show. Another day a lone Zero came down the coast about 100 feet up until it came to where our trucks were parked, then 40 mm guns opened up on it and it veered out to sea while thumbing it’s tail at us and disappearing.

That was the last invasion I was involved in and it was time to move on. This time it was Finchhaven and I was glad to get away from Oro Bay.

We moved into a campsite built by Seabees in a coconut grove on a slight incline and completely terraced. It was a top notch camp site but the occasional falling coconuts were a menace.

In 1944 the big push north was on and we were busy running our trucks on a 24 hours basis with drivers working 12 hour shifts. There were two large dock areas to service and ships were coming in all the time with machinery, equipment and food to be stockpiled and then sent on north when needed. There were no furloughs given out that year. Late in 1944 things started to ease up and in early 1945 the war started to wind down for most of us. The men who started out with the 147th had enough points, gained through overseas service, to be sent back to the States for a furlough of 45 days and possible discharge. One by one the old faces started to disappear, replaced by new ones. I was relieved of truck duty and given an office at the motor pool and the title of truck master. There I assigned drivers to trucks as needed and dispatched same.

In April of 1945 I received word that Ruth was sick and that she had lost her memory and the possibility of marriage was questionable. Well, I didn’t know how, why or when but I was determined to find out. I got in touch with the Red Cross, chaplains, the Battery commander and anybody else who would listen. I had a lot of sympathetic ears but nothing happened. A few days later something akin to divine intervention occurred when a directive from the War Department came down that all eligible soldiers could have their 45 days in Australia and then be sent back to the States from there. All I could say was I’m OUT OF HERE!!! And I was packed and ready to go.

I arrived in Melbourne on May 16 and when Ruth and I got reacquainted all doubts, fears and reservations vanished and it was on with the marriage. The ceremony took place in the Congregational Church in Glenferrie on the 26th May, 1945. Two weeks after we were married Ruth got her memory back. It was then I found out why.

After our honeymoon I had to get back to Brisbane to wait for orders. Ruth flew to Sydney with me and we parted the next night when I took the train to Brisbane.

I then settled into a routine life waiting for transport back to the U.S. June went by and then July was history. Then in August atomic bombs were dropped on Japan. One night in that month on the 15th I decided to go to a movie in the Valley, a suburb of Brisbane. I don’t remember what the movie was, but about half way through it, four words were flashed on the screen- THE WAR IS OVER. The theatre was devoid of patrons in a matter of minutes and as I sat there alone I decided to finish the movie. Afterwards I made my way through a deserted foyer and into an empty street, because everybody had rushed off to central Brisbane.

It was a warm springlike night and I walked slowly towards the centre of Brisbane, breathing in clean free air.

I'd like to thank Jan Frost, daughter of Bill Frost, for providing a copy of her father's memories of his time during WWII.

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