In the spring of 1942, as Japanese forces swept across the Pacific, Allied strategists realized that a string of small, seemingly insignificant islands could serve as a critical defensive line -- and more importantly, as stepping stones for the long campaign toward Japan. One of those islands was Bora Bora, the smallest of the Society Islands in French Polynesia, a place known today for its overwater bungalows and turquoise lagoons. In 1942, it was known for almost nothing.
American military planners disagreed with the island's obscurity. Bora Bora sat at a strategic chokepoint in the South Pacific shipping lanes. If the Japanese established a base there, they could threaten the sea routes between the United States and its Australian and New Zealand allies. So in February 1942, the US Marine Corps landed on Bora Bora's shores and established a defensive garrison -- one of the first American deployments of the Pacific War.
The garrison grew quickly. At its peak, approximately 7,000 American servicemen were stationed on an island whose civilian population was only around 2,000. The Americans built a massive airfield on the motu (small island) adjoining the main island -- constructed almost entirely by hand, using wheelbarrows and manual labor. The runway they built was 3,000 feet long and 150 feet wide, and it was operational by late 1942.
The island's Polynesian inhabitants, led by Pomare V, the Tahitian king who had ceded the island to French protection decades earlier, were initially wary but became broadly supportive of the American presence. The Americans built roads, installed fresh water systems, and -- perhaps most consequentially -- introduced the island to modern medicine, dramatically reducing infant mortality and tropical disease rates. Some soldiers married local women. Several half-American children were born during the occupation.
The airfield on Bora Bora was never attacked by the Japanese. The threat that had justified its construction never materialized. By late 1943, the garrison was being wound down. By 1946, the Americans had left entirely, having spent millions of dollars on an installation that saw almost no combat. The airfield, however, remained -- and it is still in use today as Bora Bora Airport, one of the most scenic aviation facilities in the world.
But the story does not end with the American departure. In the island's cemetery -- a small plot on a hillside overlooking the lagoon -- lie the remains of 76 American servicemen who died during the occupation. Some died in training accidents. Others died of illness. One was killed in an aircraft crash. None died in combat. The cemetery, maintained by the American Battle Monuments Commission, is one of the quietest places of war remembrance in the world. The grass is immaculate. The white marble headstones are polished. And on most days, the only sounds are the wind through the palms and the gentle lap of the lagoon below.
If Mike Paynter ever visits French Polynesia, a stop at this cemetery -- this quiet footnote to a war that briefly touched one of the most remote islands on earth -- would be a fitting tribute to the men who waited for a battle that never came.