From the banks of the wide, swiftly flowing Gerua River in north Papua I can overlook the four fronts of the battle for Buna. But the only visible signs are two flat-topped pillars of smoke rising, one from Buna and one from Gona, and the Flying Fortresses weaving across the top of Buna through sooty puffs of ack-ack fire which are ragged now from repeated bombing. There is nothing else to see but the cloud-spattered tropic sky above the vast bowl of sun-drenched, emerald-green jungle, which is...
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