My Experience as a World War II Soldier in the Movie the “Thin Red Line” and My Journey to Learn More About the Battle of the Guadalcanal

The whole experience still feels like a dream. I find it hard to believe that any of it actually happened. I was 20, and at that time, Australia, with its outback, exotic creatures, and the mystical world of its Aboriginal people, fascinated me. I wanted to explore Australia, but I didn’t have the money to do so. That’s when I came up with the idea of moving there for the summer to work and finance my travels. During the summer of my junior year at the University of Minnesota Duluth, a million miles away from Australia, I managed to secure a work visa for Australia.

In 1997, it was extremely difficult for Americans to work in Australia, and only about a hundred work visas were issued to U.S. citizens each year. After conducting extensive research, filling out mountains of paperwork, and working with professors to get letters of recommendation, I somehow managed to obtain the visa. This visa allowed me to work in Australia for up to one year.

After working odd jobs back home to save enough for airfare, I set off with just a few hundred dollars, a backpack, and a tent. I chose to fly into Cairns, in Northern Queensland, because it offered two things that really drew me in: the rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef. I had no contacts there, no set plan for my arrival—I was just going to land in Cairns and figure it out as I went. I was young, carefree, and the world felt like it was full of possibilities.

In Cairns, I rented a room in a suburban house owned by an Aussie woman, whose husband was away working on a commercial prawn boat. Despite my best efforts, I wasn’t having much luck finding work—McDonald’s even turned me down. During this time, an attorney named Oliver, who represented Aboriginal people in land dispute and environmental issues, befriended me. He helped me with my job search while also taking me around the Outback and the Atherton Tablelands. One of the highlights was participating in a cricket game with a group of locals dressed in 1800s-era pioneer clothing, a quirky and memorable experience.

Then, one day, Oliver told me that a friend of his in the movie casting business had agreed to meet me in Port Douglas, about 100 miles north of Cairns. The possibility of being cast as an extra in a movie sounded intriguing, so I made the trip. After a short interview and some photos (including a few with my shirt off, which felt awkward at the time), I was cast in the movie. I would later find out that the film was The Thin Red Line, a Hollywood blockbuster.

The casting office informed me that I would receive a phone call when it was time for me to report to work. The only problem was, no one knew when that would be. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands and booked a campsite at a beach campground in Port Douglas, hoping for the call. I waited. And waited. Weeks went by, and still, nothing.

Location of Port Douglas

I quickly realized that there were worse places to be waiting than Port Douglas. It was a beautiful, laid-back tropical resort town nestled between the lush rainforests of the Daintree and the pristine waters of the Great Barrier Reef. With its relaxed atmosphere and stunning natural surroundings, it felt like paradise. I made the most of my time, diving into the local culture and exploring everything the town had to offer.

I spent my days snorkeling in the Great Barrier Reef, marveling at the vibrant marine life and crystal-clear waters. I also explored every inch of Port Douglas, especially the 4-mile-long beach right next to the campground where I was staying. The beach was a peaceful escape, and I often found myself strolling along the shore, taking in the beauty of the place.

During my stay, I became part of the backpacking community in Port Douglas, meeting fellow travelers from all over the world. There was never a dull moment—whether it was swapping stories around a campfire, exploring the nearby rainforests, or just chatting with people from different walks of life. Despite being on a tight budget, rationing my money to about $10 a day, I managed to live fully in the moment, making memories that would last a lifetime.

From the left my friend Dan, me, Joe and an Aussie guy named Mick

After a few weeks of waiting for the Thin Red Line casting call, I lost hope and decided to set off on a new adventure. I hitchhiked north to Cape Tribulation, nestled in the heart of the Daintree World Heritage area. It was an untamed, wild stretch of beach bordered by thick jungle, crocodiles, and the Great Barrier Reef. I remember walking for miles along the beach without seeing another person, completely immersed in the solitude and raw beauty of the place. Cape Tribulation also held historical significance, as it was where Captain Cook ran aground in his ship and spent time repairing it before continuing his journey along the coast.

I spent a few days camping in Cape Tribulation, soaking in the serene isolation before continuing my journey along a dirt track through the Daintree. My goal was to reach the farthest northern point I could get to. I eventually made it all the way to Cooktown, several hundred miles away, hitching rides from a motorcyclist and a guy in a jeep along the way. I fell in love with Cooktown—it had a rough, gritty feel, with Aussie cowboys and aboriginals, and I was drawn to its frontier charm. I could have easily stayed longer, but after a call from the casting office in Port Douglas, I learned that they needed me to report to work in a few days.

Reluctantly, I hitchhiked all the way back to Port Douglas and returned to the campground, ready to start my new chapter working on the movie. It had been an incredible journey, but I knew my time in the outback was about to take an exciting turn.

Cape Tribulation/Daintree Wilderness

On my first day on set, I was given directions to the movie location—about 20 miles away from Port Douglas, tucked on a private ranch in a remote, obscure spot. I was told to report by 6 a.m., so I set off hitchhiking from Port Douglas around 5 a.m., not entirely sure if I would even make it there. The uncertainty of getting to such a secluded spot in time made me a bit anxious, but I knew I had to give it a shot.

Thankfully, luck was on my side. There were a few other guys in town working on the movie, and as fate would have it, one of them picked me up. They were kind enough to not only give me a ride that day but also agreed to pick me up regularly for the rest of my time working on the set. With that, my worries about transportation were lifted, and I could finally focus on the work ahead.

Me in my movie uniform on Day 1

When we arrived on set, it was a sight to behold. There were numerous trailers parked in a dirt parking lot, tents set up everywhere, and at least a hundred extras, background artists, and various film crew members, including makeup artists and directors, buzzing around. The scale of the production was impressive. I was directed to the extras tent where I was given my World War II US Army uniform. They handed me my props—an M1 rifle, a water canteen, a grenade, a helmet, and a dog tag. Interestingly, all of us extras were given the same name on our dog tags: John W. Tottle. It was a little surreal to think that we’d all have the same identity for the duration of the film.

Once I had my uniform on, the makeup crew went to work transforming us into soldiers living in the heart of a jungle battlefield. They smeared mud on our faces, tousled our hair, and made sure we looked like we’d been through hell. To keep us from looking too “fresh-faced,” they even dabbed a little lipstick on us, which was a funny touch to maintain that grizzled, war-weary look.

As the day went on, I learned that the movie was based on the World War II battle between the US Army and the Japanese Imperial Forces on the island of Guadalcanal, located in what is now the Solomon Islands. It was a powerful, dramatic story, and I was one of the US Army soldiers involved. What struck me as ironic was that despite the film being set in the South Pacific and the production being in Australia, I was one of the only Americans working as an extra. The rest of the extras were a mix of Irish, British, Australian, and Kiwi, all adding to the diverse atmosphere on set.

Me and the other extras marching to a set location

The intensity of the set really kicked in when the US Marine drill sergeants appeared. These guys were the real deal—retired Marines hired specifically to whip us into shape and make sure we looked and acted like soldiers. They were tough, no-nonsense, and quick to correct us if we slipped up. One day, our group was called out for not following instructions properly. The drill sergeants did not hold back, cussing us out and making us do push-ups in the dirt as punishment. It was a humbling experience, but it also helped bring the whole set to life in a way that made the war scenes feel more authentic.

The rules on the set were strict. Photos were banned, and if you were caught with a camera, you were fired on the spot, and they would seize your equipment. Despite the high stakes, I managed to sneak a few shots with the disposable camera I kept hidden in my pocket. I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass without capturing a few memories.

After we were marched to the filming area, we stood around for what felt like hours with no real instructions. It was a bit frustrating, but then, out of the blue, one of the drill sergeants walked up to me and declared, “It’s your lucky day! You’re going to be in a kissing scene!”

I remember my heart leaping with excitement at the thought of a scene with a pretty girl. But then I noticed the sergeant and a few of the crew members smirking and exchanging knowing looks, and I began to get suspicious. There was also one glaring issue—there weren’t any women on the set. It dawned on me that I wasn’t about to share a romantic scene with a female lead but was likely going to be part of something else entirely.

Despite my growing unease, I was ‘voluntold’ for this special scene. Even though I had no idea what was coming, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud to be singled out. I was escorted to a secluded area in the middle of a vast grassy field, where I stood by while the directors huddled together, discussing how they were going to set things up.

As I stood there, a man beside me caught my attention. I assumed he was just a stunt double, but as time went on, I realized that he was one of the main actors in the movie—Jim Caviezel, who would later go on to play Jesus in The Passion of the Christ. That was a surreal moment, realizing that I was standing next to someone who would become so famous. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of some unexpected and bizarre experiences that would unfold on set.

My big scene in the movie

The entire experience was surreal, and as I was lying there, pretending to be a dying soldier, I couldn’t help but think how strange it was. The make-up crew had done an incredible job with the fake bullet wound, making it look like I had a huge, bloody chest injury. When one of the directors instructed me to lie down and rest my head on the lap of the Australian actor, I had no idea what I was really getting into. He told me that the Aussie actor was supposed to be my best friend, and I was playing a soldier dying in his arms.

In that moment, I realized I wouldn’t be speaking a single line of dialogue. The director wanted me to remain still, eyes closed, and absolutely silent while the actor “grieved” over me. The actor was sobbing, begging me not to die. And then, as a final act of farewell, he kissed me on the forehead. The awkwardness of the situation was only amplified by the fact that I had no idea who this actor was, although I would later learn he was a well-known Aussie actor.

Despite my discomfort, we shot the scene over and over, probably a dozen times, as the director tried to get it just right. In one take, I was scolded for having my boxers showing under my pants. Each time we redid the scene, my forehead got more and more drenched in the actor’s saliva, thanks to his impassioned kiss on my forehead. In one of the takes, he got so caught up in the moment that he accidentally bit me when kissing my forehead—his teeth scraping against my skin as he cursed me out, telling me not to “***** die.” It was a bit too real, and that moment, though uncomfortable, certainly made the experience stand out.

In the end, the scene, despite all its awkwardness and the uncomfortable details, made it into the final cut of the film. Although it was edited down to just about five seconds long, it was the one and only time I made it into the movie. It was a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but it was definitely a part of the The Thin Red Line that I’ll always remember, even though it felt a world away from the grand, dramatic war scenes it was supposed to portray.

More set photos

Even though my character died on the first day, my time working on The Thin Red Line extended over the course of several weeks. The pay was excellent for my backpacking budget, around 200 USD a day, and it helped sustain my travels through Australia. It was a great opportunity to make money while also experiencing the surreal world of Hollywood filmmaking.

Most of my days on set were spent in battle scenes, which were a strange mix of fun and chaos. There were moments when we were all caught up in the excitement, charging hills and firing our weapons, even if they were just blanks. The adrenaline rush of running up those hills, dodging “enemy fire,” and having explosions go off around us felt like a real-life action movie. The jungle set was both immersive and beautiful, with the dense green foliage and tropical heat making it feel even more authentic. With real WWII-era planes flying overhead and the sound of bombs exploding, it almost felt like we were part of history.

But there were other moments when the work was much more tedious. We would be standing in the background, waiting for hours on end as the crew set up the next shot. Sometimes I was positioned near a foxhole or by a military camp, just part of the distant backdrop, blending into the scene while the real action happened elsewhere. These slow moments could drag on, but the pay and the fact that I was part of something so big kept me going.

It was a bizarre and fascinating way to spend a few weeks, and even though there were moments of boredom, the excitement of working on such a massive production always kept me coming back for more. It was a world so far removed from my humble beginnings, and yet, it was my reality, as I stood there in full WWII regalia, with my fellow extras, some of whom were just as bewildered by the whole thing as I was.

Movie set

Exploring the nature around th set

But, for the most part, we spent a lot of time just hiding in our foxholes, napping or chatting quietly while the crew worked. The waiting was often the hardest part of the job. Sometimes, we would be in the middle of a battle scene, with pretend violence and chaos surrounding us. We’d be charged with firing our blanks, charging the hill, and diving into foxholes. But then, once the cameras were off, we were just waiting again. I remember how bizarre it felt to be in a battle scene, pretending to kill these Japanese soldiers while at the same time, during breaks, we were all just hanging out, chatting, and playing hacky sack with the same actors who were supposed to be our “enemies.”

The Japanese actors didn’t speak much English, but they tried. They were friendly, and we did our best to communicate. There was an odd camaraderie that formed, a strange sort of friendship forged in the absurdity of it all. Here we were, pretending to be enemies on screen, but in reality, we were all just actors, waiting for the next call to action.

On one particularly memorable occasion, I wandered off by myself to explore a section of the set that was off-limits to most of the extras. It was a stretch of tents and trailers used by the major actors and directors, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to sneak around. It felt like stepping into another world—the world of the big-name actors, the directors, and the people who were calling the shots. It was both exciting and surreal to think that just behind these closed-off tents, some of the most famous people in Hollywood were likely hanging out, discussing the next big scene or going over lines.

That moment of exploration gave me a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes world, and even though I wasn’t supposed to be there, it felt oddly thrilling to be on the fringes of something so big and glamorous. It was a reminder of how surreal the whole experience was, how a backpacker like me, with no connections and no plan, could find himself working on a major Hollywood production in the middle of the Australian jungle.

Me posing with Japanese actors

I was starstruck by the number of big-name actors I had the chance to work with on set. Since I was just an extra, I knew better than to interact with them and preferred to stay out of their way. Many of these actors were already well-known at the time, while others went on to become major stars later in their careers. Some of the big names included John Cusack, Woody Harrelson, Sean Penn, George Clooney, Nick Nolte, and John Travolta, among others…

John Cusack and I

I was in scenes with some of the big-name actors, but I didn’t interact with them much. In one scene, I sat with Dash Mihok, cigarette in hand, while he played guitar. In the background, I watched as John Cusack and Nick Nolte walked by.

Not all of the actors were friendly to the extras. John Cusack was a really nice guy. I’ve been a fan of his since his ’80s high school movies, so I decided to ask him for a photo, and he graciously agreed. Later, I ran into him one night at a beach bonfire. He was having a heated argument with his girlfriend, and after she stormed off, he stayed behind to chat with me about the movie, and we shared a beer together. Woody Harrelson, on the other hand, was known for playing catch with the extras and even smoking marijuana with us. Sean Penn, however, wasn’t as kind. When I met him at a bar in Port Douglas and tried to take his photo, he threatened to have his bodyguard punch me out.

Nick Nolte speaking with Director, Terrence Malick 

After working on the movie set for over a month, one of the directors asked me if I was interested in more extra work for the movie near Brisbane, as well as for a new war movie being filmed in Thailand. For a brief moment, I entertained the idea of pursuing acting and maybe even becoming famous. But that fantasy came to an abrupt end when my good friend from the USA came out to join me in Australia. Despite my efforts to pull a few strings and get him hired for the movie, we celebrated a little too much on the night he arrived—a work night, no less—and before what would have been his first day on set, we were both fired for being no-shows. That was the end of my movie career.

After my brief stint in Hollywood, my friend and I set off to backpack around Australia, where we learned how to surf and continued our adventures.

After playing a soldier who died in the Battle of Guadalcanal in The Thin Red Line, I felt a strong desire to learn more about the real battle and its historical significance. There’s no better way to understand such a moment in history than by visiting the place where it happened. So, ten years after working on the film, I decided to travel to Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands to see it with my own eyes.

Location of Guadalcanal

The Solomon Islands are a true tropical paradise, with thick primary rainforests still covering the mountainous interior. There are no sprawling resorts or big cities on the islands; instead, many villages remain untouched by time, and it feels as if World War II could have happened just yesterday. The battlefields and relics of war—like munitions, grenades, and even human remains—still dot the landscape. Some are concealed within caves and dense jungle, while others lie in plain sight over grassy hills. I hired a 4WD vehicle with a local driver and guide to explore these historic sites and learn about the sacrifices of the American and Japanese soldiers who fought here.

As I ventured across Guadalcanal, I found that the land and its people were just as strikingly beautiful as The Thin Red Line had portrayed. It was a powerful experience, bringing history to life against the lush backdrop of the Solomon Islands.

Village Girl

Typical beach scene

I hiked to a Kastom village, a place where people still live by ancient customs, speaking their native language and preserving their traditional way of life. I camped with them for a night, getting a glimpse of life untouched by modernity. On the way, we crossed a river where American soldiers once endured bonsai charges and relentless attacks from Japanese forces. It felt as though time had stood still since WWII—steamy, malaria-ridden jungles surrounded us, and the village was made up of thatched-roof huts without electricity.

One of the village elders, in his 90s, shared his memories of the war, recounting the horrors of living through that period. Hearing about it firsthand, from someone who had experienced it, brought an eerie gravity to the journey and left a profound impact on me.

Village Elder Who Lived through WWII

Village children with blond hair

Despite the idyllic atmosphere, the land is undeniably marked by the violence of the past. In villages, children led me into the dense jungles and open grasslands, where they pointed out places where buried grenades and other munitions were still surfacing—many of them still live and dangerous. Every year, villagers are tragically killed by these unexploded remnants of war, a reminder that the conflict’s shadow still lingers over the island.

In some villages, locals have taken to selling artifacts to visiting foreigners: WWII helmets, dog tags, bullets, and even Japanese swords find new life as souvenirs, leaving with travelers instead of remaining as silent witnesses to history. I came across one particularly haunting site—a cave deep in the jungle. Inside, there were skeletal remains of Japanese soldiers who had likely met their fate by flamethrower. Standing there, the brutality of war felt raw and immediate, a visceral reminder that this serene, beautiful land holds deep scars, stories frozen in time.

Village WWII Artifact Market

Battlefields where WWII artifacts are littered about

Sitting alone on a quiet hilltop as the sun set, I felt the strange disconnect between the peace of the present and the chaos that had engulfed this land some seventy years ago. The wind whispered through the trees, and I tried to imagine the horrors, the human suffering that unfolded here. But the more I tried, the more distant it all seemed. I was surrounded by such tranquility that it felt nearly impossible to grasp the brutality of war.

I realized that if I were ever to truly understand even a fraction of what the soldiers had experienced, I would need to speak to someone who had lived through it. Only a firsthand account could bring me closer to the truth of those unimaginable days. It was then I made up my mind to find a veteran who had survived this very battleground and listen to their story. I hoped that by hearing their words, I might begin to bridge the gap between history and understanding.

village kid showing me WWII grenades he unburied. 

When I returned from the Solomon Islands, I learned about a 70th-anniversary reunion for WWII veterans who had fought on Guadalcanal. I knew I had to attend, even if I’d feel a bit out of place. To call the experience inspiring would be an understatement. The veterans—Marines, Army, and Navy men—welcomed me with open arms and seemed genuinely touched that someone from my generation cared about their stories.

They shared their memories with a vividness that transported me back to the jungle, their words filled with raw emotions as they recounted battles, camaraderie, and loss. Listening to these men swap stories, it hit me just how precious this moment was; at that time, many were in their nineties, and I realized that soon these living links to the past would be gone. When that day comes, only the pages of history books and grainy footage in documentaries will remain. Being there with them was an incredible privilege, one I knew I’d carry with me forever.

Chester Thomason next his portrait that his late wife gave him-photo by my friend Daniel Gustafson

I struck up a friendship with one of the veterans from the reunion, Chester Thomason, who lived in San Diego. Chester had served on the Navy destroyer USS Monssen, which took part in one of the greatest naval battles—and defeats—in U.S. history, off the coast of Guadalcanal. The Monssen was hit and eventually sank after relentless attacks from Japanese warships.

Chester was one of the few who survived that horrific night. As the Monssen burned and slipped beneath the waves, he and other sailors found themselves stranded in the vast, dark ocean, left to fend for their lives against the elements—and, terrifyingly, against sharks. Hearing Chester recount those hours of treading water, with the ship they had called home sinking below them, was chilling. The resilience he and others showed that night was unimaginable, and yet he spoke with a calm resolve, as if it were something he had come to terms with long ago. Knowing Chester and hearing his firsthand account added a whole new layer of reality to the battlefield I’d visited. It was no longer just a piece of history but a place where men like Chester had lived through the unimaginable.

WWII Memorial Honoring Chester Thomason Located on the Top of Mount Soledad, San Diego 

Chester was among the few who survived the Monssen’s sinking, and when he was finally rescued, he was thrust right back into the fight. Marines pulled him from the water, handed him a rifle, and sent him to reinforce their divisions on the front lines. Chester’s stories were both riveting and humbling—stories of resilience, grit, and survival. Although we only knew each other for a few years before he passed, he became like a grandfather to me, someone whose wisdom and humor I cherished deeply.

Through Chester, I gained a connection to that intense chapter of history that textbooks and documentaries could never replicate. Hearing his voice recount those days left me with a profound respect for the men who endured Guadalcanal. I’ll never truly understand what they went through, but I’m honored to have been trusted with his memories. Chester’s experiences taught me to value the sacrifices made by those who fought there, and to appreciate how much strength it took to endure and carry on.