By JEANNINE CROOKS
Enquirer contributor

I dig my nails into the armrest, praying our small plane will stop safely as we bounce along the short grass runway left over from World War II. The blue Pacific sparkles at the end of the path, where the wreckage of a P-38 Lightning fighter sits 20 feet under, a constant reminder of what happens if we don't stop.

Skillfully, our pilot slows the 10-seater, and soon I'm standing in the tiny wooden building that comprises Seghe Airport on New Georgia Island in the Solomon Islands' Western Province. Once the site of some of the most fierce Pacific fighting in World War II -- especially at Guadalcanal -- the Solomon Islands offer a tropical paradise filled with lush rain forests, spectacular snorkeling and an abundance of native culture.

I follow the guide to a boat resting on the shore alongside the airstrip. Guiding the craft into the bright turquoise water, we ease past numerous islands and atolls on our way to Michi Island's Vanuarapita Lodge. The ''lodge'' consists of three leaf houses, basically two-bedroom, bamboo bungalows sitting on stilts over a tiny portion of Marovo lagoon, the largest lagoon in the world.

My room is simple but spotless, furnished with two single beds encircled by mosquito nets suspended from the ceiling, and a table adorned with ruby-colored hibiscus. No designer wallpaper could match the wall's decorative, neatly woven pattern.

From the deck, I gaze at the countless islands dotting the lagoon, engulfed in a peaceful mosaic of sparkling blue water and the sun's fading coral rays.

Discovered in 1567

An archipelago of nearly 1,000 islands, atolls and reefs form the Solomon Islands, which stretch more than 900 miles between New Guinea and Fiji in the South Pacific. The island cluster was discovered by Spanish explorer Alvaro Mendana in 1567, who, inspired by tales of plentiful gold, named it for King Solomon's mines.

Although early history contains many reports of head-hunting and tribal warfare, peace followed the establishment of British rule in 1893. That tranquillity was shattered in April 1942, with the invasion of Japanese troops determined to build a strategic base in the South Pacific. By August, thousands of U.S. troops began a series of bloody battles to recapture the area. The islanders proved invaluable allies by reporting Japanese activities, conducting guerrilla operations and rescuing Allied servicemen, including John F. Kennedy.

In 1978, the Solomon Islands gained their independence from British rule, and today the country explores ways to build its economy through light industry and tourism, while maintaining the gentle life enjoyed for centuries.

I awaken before dawn and gaze across the moonlit lagoon at the sleepy native village. From more than a mile away, the morning sounds of breakfast being prepared drift across the water, while the sweet voices of the church choir rehearse for the morning's service.

Before the sun rises, village women expertly paddle across the lagoon, carrying breakfast in tiny dugout canoes. After the meal, the guide, Gabriel, uses his motor boat to carry resort guests to Michi Village. Following the traditional introduction to the local chief, I receive a tour through the tiny community of thatched huts and a one-room schoolhouse, then join the villagers to watch men wearing only war paint and loin cloths perform ''custom'' dances of war and harvest.

''Each man designs his own war paint pattern,'' Gabriel explains, ''so that his fellow villagers will recognize him during the heat of battle.''

Clutching shields and battle-axes, the dancers move through intricately choreographed routines, the pounding of their steps providing the only sound.

Resort living

Following the native experience of Michi Village, the simple amenities of Uepi Island Resort, including electricity and indoor plumbing (using rain water, of course), seem quite indulgent.

The resort's friendly dive master convinces me that I must experience the world under the sparkling turquoise water. Slipping into the warm waves, I find myself surrounded by hundreds of colorful, tropical fish sporting designs of electric blue and luminous lemon yellow. Sleek garden eels shyly maneuver through the cabbage coral, while huge angelfish scurry though a patch of brain coral. The sunlight cuts through the clear water, highlighting lion fish hunting their next meal, engulfed in their mane of graceful spines.

I remain in this enormous aquarium, mesmerized by the living tableau, until the disappearing rays of the setting sun force me back to dry land. Full from an exotic dinner of succulent mangrove crabs and lobster, I join the other amateur Cousteaus on the resort verandah to swap tales of underwater adventures. Stories of exploring sunken B-17s or Japanese U-boats easily mix with reports of enormous coral reefs and countless tropical species.

While tomorrow some will choose windsurfing and bush-walking over snorkeling or diving, I long only for a snorkel and mask to again skim the surface of this underwater tropical utopia.

But now it's time to explore another uniquely Solomon custom. Landing at the WWII vintage Munda Airport on the west coast of New Georgia Island, Gabriel and I walk the few hundred yards to Agnes Lodge.

Six villages comprise the area known as Munda, long considered one of the finest fishing areas in the Solomon Islands. The catch I really want though involves human skulls. Steering into the open waters of Roviana Lagoon, our guide points the boat toward Kumbonitu to request permission to visit Skull Island.

Skull Island

Because Skull Island is ''tabu'' or sacred, entering without the chief's consent is unthinkable. Permission granted, we land on the tiny islet. The skull houses, or reliquaries, resemble tiny, triangular shaped stone caskets. Open doors reveal the skulls of chiefs. The most recent chief died in the 1920s, while the oldest ruled more than 300 years ago. The human bones contrast eerily with this palm-fringed beach paradise.

Too soon it is time to leave. Although Gizo ranks as the second largest city in the Solomons (population 4,500), tiny Gizo Island is too small for an airport. The plane lands at adjoining Nustope Island, and I board a small boat for the brief trip to Gizo.

Along the way I treasure a brief stop at Kennedy Island, where the late president took refuge when his patrol boat, PT-109, was destroyed more than 50 years ago. In true Solomon Islands style, no plaque marks the spot.

Soon after arriving at Gizo, I meet Wilson Hivu, guide and historian, for a bush walk through the tropical rain forest on Voruku Hill. Early on our walk, we pass an open shelter containing an old WWII truck ramp, which Wilson identifies as a copra shed used to process coconut kernels for the oil inside. The truck ramps' round holes are perfectly sized to hold coconuts during drying.

My reward for completing the steep climb up Voruku Hill is the unlimited view of the Pacific, perfectly framed by palm trees. Noticing my thirst, Wilson shakes a coconut loose from a nearby tree, and, with a few swift machete strokes, hands me a neatly formed coconut goblet, complete with a stem for a handle.

Gazing at this stunning ocean vista, I try to picture the frenzy of war, but I see only the gentle blue Pacific. The ghosts of World War II have been silenced under the peaceful waters of the Solomon Islands.

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