The Old Breed

Chapter 2

Melbourne, Australia

September 20th, 1943

Between the cobblestone road and what I surmised was a shaky wheel or axle on the truck, the ride was probably the bumpiest I've ever been on. I felt like my teeth were going to shake right out of my mouth. Or my ribs would rattle out of my chest. Lanky and I pressed ourselves together to try and avoid some of the larger bounces. It didn't help much.

Two of the replacements on the bench across from me were talkative, and they tried to strike up a conversation with Lanky and I. They were heading towards 2nd Platoon of the same company as us. One seemed to be trying to impress us with tales of New York City, which he said Melbourne had nothing on. It was probably true, but I noticed him, like the rest of us, staring out the back of the truck. It was hard not too. After over a week on a boat with nothing but water from horizon to horizon, this place felt unimaginably better.

The street widened into a main thoroughfare, wide, three lanes for each direction. The road was crowded with Willys jeeps, deuce-and-a-halfs, taxis, and civilian transports. Bisecting the thoroughfare was a set of steel tracks, for a trolley car, one off which was slowly chugging its way forwards behind us. The cobblestone had flattened out slightly, but the ride didn't smoothen much, and I decided the shaky wheel or axle was doing more of the bumping.

Bordering the street were wide concrete sidewalks which led directly up to the various storefronts, hotels, and homes. The sidewalks were crowded with older men in suits, girls in short sundresses, and a whole lot of uniformed Americans. Most of the Marines looked laid back, several with beers, more than a few with a girl draped on their arms. I didn't see many officers or NCOs, but when I did, they were doing the exact same things as the enlisted. If this was how Melbourne usually was, I wouldn't mind spending another month here before entering the war.

The ride through downtown Melbourne, while horrible on my body, was thankfully short, the Melbourne Cricket Ground not far off from the downtown area. The cricket field was located inside a park, a line of railroad tracks coming alongside the southern edge of the stadium. Beyond the tracks by a few hundred feet was a brownish-blue river. The park around the stadium was laced with concrete walkways and plump green trees. The grass was well manicured. A lot of the open areas were filled with Marines lying about, a good amount sleeping, just as many reading or just taking in the beautiful day. I noticed one or two with girlfriends.

The trucks dropped us off directly at the front gate of the stadium, and we filed back into a line, directed inside the stadium. The going was slow, but eventually we made it inside. Walking out onto the field, using the same entrance the teams would go through, my breath was taken away by the sheer size of the stadium. When I was younger, my dad had taken me to a baseball game in Minneapolis. Then, I had been speechless how large that stadium had been. This stadium here in Australia was nearly double the size. Someone had said it was one of largest stadiums in the world, and I could believe it. Although it wasn't very tall, it was long and wide. The stadium was occupied by just the 1st Marines now, but I was sure it could fit the whole division.

I guess I should explain that really quick. The 1st Marine Division is always going to be called the 1st Marine Division. Regiments however can be shortened. The 1st Marine Regiment can be called the 1st Marines. One of the sister units of the division, the 5th Marine Regiment, would be the 5th Marines, and so forth. Furthermore, the three battalions in each regiment, like the 1st Battalion, 1st Marines, can be shortened to 1/1. The 2nd battalion of the 5th Marines would be 2/5.

Stepping onto the green, grassy field, which stretched out over five hundred feet, I stopped to look up at the stadium around me. The brick bleachers reached just up about two stories, one section in the back maybe three. Parts of the bleachers were clustered with Marines or their equipment, a lot of the men lying down on wool blankets laid under them. On the field, one company was doing exercises in the far corner, calisthenics mostly, a few other drills. Several men were doing laps around the field. Even more just casually relaxed in the grass. Behind the drilling company, a low wood platform had been erected, a stage. On one side flew the Marine Corps flag, on the other, the Stars and Stripes. Speakers were set up besides the stage. For now, the stage was empty. Lanky and I shouldered our duffel bags, and I adjusted the strap of my new M1 Garand, hanging off my other shoulder. I felt the smooth wooden stock rubbing against my back muscles. We headed to the left first, drawing near to the bleachers. Lanky had taken the lead, and he seemed to be aiming towards a tall man standing up in the bleachers, down close by the field, his back turned to us. He wasn't talking to anybody or doing anything. He just seemed to be staring off into space. I'd noticed more than a few Guadalcanal veterans doing that. By this man's ragged uniform, I assumed he was one of them.