by Chris Glatte
A sergeant raised his hand when he sensed a pause. The Captain pointed at him, “Sir, I thought our navy was handling the Jap navy.”
The Captain looked at the floor and shook his head, “Not true Sergeant. The situation’s confused. Sometimes the ships we see are ours, sometimes theirs. From what I hear it’s an even fight. The Japs are spread thin though, they’ll run out of ships before we do, but don’t count on support from our squids. In fact, the Japs continue to land more troops on the other side of the island almost nightly. We’re trying to interdict, but it’s a big ocean and we haven’t had much luck so far.” He took a sip of warm water. “We’re not facing worn out troops, we’re facing fresh, seasoned soldiers. We can expect to be hit any day. They know we’re here, they know we’re untested. There’s little doubt they’ll hit the 164th. They think we’re green and weak. We’re gonna prove ‘em wrong.”
He paced up and down the table. Lieutenant Caprielli had to back out of the way. The Captain pointed to the jungle, “We’re gonna make our presence felt today. The NCOs will brief individual squads, but were sending out patrols. We need to find the enemy line. It’s essential for us to know how close these troops are to mounting an attack.”
Another sergeant spoke up, “Are we attacking, Sir?”
“We’re waiting to assess the situation. We just landed yesterday, we need time to figure out how things work here. Get our bearings. We’ll stick it to ‘em soon enough.”
He grabbed the edge of the table and looked out over the sea of young faces. “The Marines have been fighting on this island since August. It’s our turn. I know you’ll do me, the Army and your families proud. Make no mistake, the enemy is relentless and brutal. Kill them when you find them, have no mercy, give no lenience. They won’t give you any. Good luck and good hunting.”
With that he left and was replaced by Lieutenant Carprielli. “Break up into your platoons. You’ll be briefed by your sergeants.”
O'Connor saw Sgt. Carver and went to him. His platoon was milling about making small talk. Carver yelled to get their attention. “I want 1st and 2nd squads, the rest of you back to your holes.”
O'Connor looked at the men around him. The other members of 2nd squad looked like deer in headlights. Are they ready for battle? He knew they were, they’d been training endlessly for months, now it was the real deal. He was ready, he hoped the others were, his life depended on it.
Sergeant Carver gathered both squads. Lieutenant Caprielli spoke, “Men, our first patrol. Our first time being tested.” He looked from man to man, “I’m sure you’re all wondering how you’ll perform out there. You’re well trained. When in doubt fall back on your training. If everyone does their job it’ll go off without a hitch.” He gestured to Sgt. Carver who listened with his burly arms across his chest. “Sergeant, make sure the men are loaded out correctly. We kick off at 1000 hours sharp.” He looked at his watch and walked back towards his tent.
Carver watched him go. “Okay, just like we practiced back on New Caledonia, this is a light patrol, meaning, don’t bring a lot of shit. One canteen, no food, full complement of ammo, your K-bar, a basic loadout. I want each man carrying at least two grenades. Morgan bring the BAR, the rest of you your rifles. Clear?” There was a smattering of nods and ‘Yes Sarge’. “Clear?” he yelled it this time.
“Yes, Sergeant,” came the chorus.
“Meet back here at 0945 looking sharp.”
The squads broke up heading to the makeshift armory to fill ammo pouches with clips and grenades. As O'Connor filled his bag he thought he’d throw up. He wondered if anyone else was nervous. He looked around at the young faces, none of them seemed scared. Some were even joking around. An M1 clip fell from his hand and landed in the dirt. He bent to pick it up, but Private First-Class Morgan said in his deep voice, “Don’t pack that one unless you plan to unload it and clean each bullet. You don’t want your M1 jamming when you need it most.”
O'Connor nodded and placed it away from the pile. He didn’t tell him he’d undoubtedly shot more than Morgan. Morgan watched him fumble another one. He put his hand on his shoulder. “Relax Red. Believe me the jitters will go away as soon as we step off into the jungle.”
O'Connor nodded, “You’ve been in combat?”
“Nothing like the Marines here, but I was a cop before. Doubt it’s much different.” He smiled, “At least out here you know who the enemy is.” He paused and stopped pulling ammo. “When the shit hits the fan your training takes over. Kinda go into auto-pilot.”
O'Connor nodded. That’s what everyone always said ‘Remember your training,’ but he didn’t feel his training was all that good. He’d spent his life living in the woods living off the land. His parents never had real jobs, they lived meal to meal, tending gardens and shooting game. His little sister knew more about stealth and staying alive in the wilds than any of these yahoos and she was ten years old. All they showed him in boot camp and subsequent training was how to use different weapons and how to follow orders from someone who’d likely get him killed.
For the first time he realized he wasn’t nervous about facing the Japs, he was nervous about facing the Japs with a bunch of city slickers. He looked around the group, the only man he thought he could rely on was Sgt. Carver and maybe Pvt. Crandall. Crandall had been a trapeze artist or some such thing and seemed like all the traveling around from town to town had hardened him more than the others. Dunphy was probably a good boxer but he was sure he’d become totally useless when the bullets started flying. He’d never worked a day in his life.
He finished gathering his kit, looked at his watch and went to the rally point waiting for 0945 to come. The day was sweltering, he’d already soaked through both his undershirt and his blouse top. He had a couple minutes so he laid out his tarp and stripped his M1 Garand. His M1 was the one thing he loved about the Army. He’d shot a lot of rifles, but nothing felt as smooth and comfortable as the M1. He’d qualified expert without even having to try. He caressed each piece inspecting it for any dirt then put it back together marveling at how perfectly everything fit into place.
At 0945 everyone was standing with their weapons slung. Sergeant Carver stood next to Lt. Caprielli. “The sergeant will put you in battle order. Our orders are to probe and find the enemy line. Once we do, we break contact and get back here. Clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Carver boomed, “I want 2nd squad up front with Crandall on point.” O'Connor saw the color drain from Crandall’s face. O'Connor had told Carver back on New Caledonia of his hunting experience, but for some reason he never let him take point. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he thought he’d be good at it. Crandall wasn’t bad, but he’d gotten them lost a few times in the thicker jungle.
O'Connor was placed in the middle of the squad behind Dunphy. He couldn’t seem to get away from him. 1st squad would hang back and cover any hasty retreat. They formed their line and Carver said, “Keep your interval, no bunching up. Keep the man in front of you in sight. If he stops, you stop, speeds up, you speed up. No talking and be sure nothing’s making noise on your uniform. Hopefully, the Japs won’t even know we’ve been there.” O'Connor almost laughed out loud. From his experience these guys were anything but quiet.
They walked past their foxholes, the barbed wire was pulled back and then they were in the jungle. It was like turning off a light. One moment they were in a bright sunny morning the next they were in a greenish black jungle. The smell changed from dried out dirt to wet loamy decay. The smell permeated O'Connor’s senses.
The trail they walked was narrow. He wondered if it was a human trail or a game trail, probably both. He watched Dunphy’s back. He was walking upright his gun slung like he was on a Sunday stroll. O'Connor glanced back and could just make out Morgan with the big Browning Automatic Rifle. He saw his teeth flash as he smiled. He turned back around and listened for anything out of the ordinary. The squad consisted of twelve men. They weren’t hunters, they were loud. He could
n’t hear anything but them.
Suddenly Dunphy crouched down holding up his fist. O'Connor immediately did the same. He looked to either side of the trail. The jungle was so dense there could have been an enemy soldier within spitting distance and he wouldn’t have known it. Following the trail was stupid. It was obvious, the Japs would ambush them any second. Dunphy signaled to get off the trail. He did the same for Morgan and went to his left as Dunphy went right. He pushed into the jungle parting foliage until he’d made himself a small pocket. He was off the trail, but only just. He tried to keep Dunphy in sight, but his green uniform was hard to pick out. He found his silhouette though and listened and watched.
Two minutes passed before he saw Dunphy come back on the trail. O'Connor noticed he’d brought his rifle off his shoulder, it was a start. They advanced another fifty yards. The trail started to peter out and the jungle opened up a little. Dunphy, who was paying more attention now went left and he directed O'Connor to the right. He, in turn pointed left to Morgan. He felt much better getting off the trail and into a combat spread. The underbrush was thick, but manageable. The jungle was buzzing with clouds of mosquitos. He looked at his hands, he counted 6 of the little blood suckers doing their thing. He ignored them and kept listening and watching. Dunphy off to his left was making a racket swatting them off his exposed skin. O'Connor gritted his teeth, that kind of thing would get him killed. He wondered if he should try to get his attention when he noticed the man in front of Dunphy was crouched with his fist up.
He immediately stopped and sent the signal back, but Dunphy was oblivious and kept walking until he was next to the soldier. O'Connor thought it was Corporal Hooper. He watched Hooper jump in surprise. Hooper reached out and grabbed Dunphy’s sleeve pulling him down. Dunphy tried to back up to where he should be, but Hooper held him and pointed. O'Connor tried to see what he was pointing at, but the light was too dim, it looked like more green jungle. He readied his rifle wondering if it was the enemy they’d spotted.
Dunphy looked back looking for O'Connor. O'Connor was crouched behind a tuft of thick grass not moving a muscle. He watched Dunphy trying to find him, getting some satisfaction from his obvious distress. He leaned forward pushing his face through the grass. Dunphy saw him and signaled to take cover. He passed it along and dropped to his stomach, his rifle pressed against his shoulder pointing right.
Then there was a pop, the sudden sound made him jump. It was difficult to figure what direction it had come from, the jungle seemed to swallow sound. Then another and another. It was coming from the front and it was gunfire. He rolled out from behind the tuft and searched for targets. He could see Dunphy lying flat, crawling to his left away from Hooper.
He heard Sgt. Carver yell from the front, “Morgan we’re peeling back to you, be ready with the BAR.”
Morgan yelled one word, “Yes.” He pulled the bipod down and adjusted himself behind the big Browning. O'Connor watched Dunphy try to rise and take off, but Corporal Hooper yelled at him to stay put until the others to his front were by him. They’d practiced this peel, but it was dangerous to run through your comrades when they may be firing at pursuing enemy. There was a good chance for friendly fire casualties. They’d trained not to fire until all friendlies were behind, but if the Japs were hot on their heels they’d have to shoot.
The firing became more intense. He heard the distinctive blast of the M1 then the ping as the clip emptied. Someone had just fired all 8 rounds in a few seconds. It was answered by a machine gun. Tracers came out of the jungle like angry bees. O'Connor looked for a muzzle flash, but the machine gun must have been firing from cover, probably a bunker. Then he saw Carver, Crandall and McDougal running like Olympic sprinters. Carver dropped into a crouch and emptied another clip the way he’d come.
He slapped another clip in as he sprinted past Corporal Hooper and Dunphy. “They’re right on our ass, give ‘em grenades.” Hooper unclipped a grenade from his harness, pulled the pin and chucked it as the men sprinted by him, then he was back on his rifle. He was halfway through his clip when the grenade went off. He used the distraction to jump to his feet and start running. He saw Dunphy still on the ground, he ran to him and yelled for him to get up. Dunphy was fumbling with something at his belt. He stood up and O'Connor saw something drop to the ground. Dunphy took off pushing Hooper in front of him, “Grenade” he yelled.
They got ten feet away when the grenade went off. Hooper yelled and fell, his rifle spinning away. O'Connor was the next in line and he sighted down his rifle waiting for a target. Dunphy was trying to get Corporal Hooper onto his feet. Hooper was clutching his ass, screaming. He put an arm around Dunphy’s shoulder and hobbled back.
Out of the dark jungle O'Connor saw what he was waiting for. Two men burst out of the bush and were charging with their impossibly long Arisaka rifles with bayonets attached. They were charging, trying to skewer Dunphy and Hooper. They’d catch up to them in seconds, stab them with the long blades, then they’d come for him. He sighted on the nearest man’s chest. He put pressure on the trigger and it bucked in his hand. The thirty-caliber bullet went supersonic and entered the Japanese soldiers’ chest and exited pulling blood and gore with it. The man dropped and didn’t move. The next man didn’t miss a beat, he was almost upon the two men. O'Connor adjusted and shot twice. Both bullets hit within centimeters exploding the man’s chest. He went from full sprint to hitting an invisible wall and flying backwards. He landed on his comrade.
O'Connor pulled both his grenades, pulled the pins and hurled them one after another. There was movement in the dimness where the Japanese had come from, but he didn’t wait. He got on the other side of Hooper and now they could run.
O'Connor waited for the bullet that would end his life, but instead he heard his grenades explode then the powerful thumping of Morgan’s BAR. He got beyond Morgan and saw Carver directing them to the rear. “Get him out of here.”
When they got back to the end of their squad, Lt. Caprielli was moving forward. He saw the wounded man and called up men from 1st squad to take over. O'Connor was glad to be away from him; three men together was too easy a target. He ran back to the line. Morgan’s BAR was still thumping.
He ran in a crouch until he was behind Morgan. He threw himself to the ground and crawled forward until he had a clear view of the jungle. He saw the crumpled forms of the two men he’d killed. They were a greenish blotch on the jungle floor. He searched for targets, but didn’t see any. Morgan was still hammering away. Sergeant Carver yelled from O'Connor’s right, “Covering fire, Morgan, fall back to the trail.”
Morgan sprang to his knees and collapsed the attached bipod. He lifted the heavy gun and started running to the rear. O'Connor sighted down his M1 and fired into the darkness until he heard the clip ping. Carver yelled, “Fall back!” O'Connor smoothly loaded a new clip. He stuffed the empty clip into his pocket and took off for the trail. He ran hunched over waiting to get shot. He decided he didn’t like running away. The thought of getting shot in the back terrified him.
When he got to the narrowing jungle he saw the rest of his squad crouched, guns pointing back the way he’d come. No more shots came from the jungle. Sergeant Carver got them up, “All right let’s get back down the trail.” He looked around, “Where’s first squad?”
Private Troutman said, “The L-T took ‘em back down the trail couple minutes ago.”
Carver shook his head, “Okay, looks like were tail end Charlie.” He pointed at O'Connor, “you cover our tail. Keep up.”
O'Connor nodded and watched the squad filter past him towards the jungle path. They were trotting and soon disappeared onto the narrow trail. O'Connor backed away looking for any enemy. Nothing. He turned and found the trail. He trotted a couple feet then turned and listened and watched. Nothing. He couldn’t hear the squad; they weren’t wasting any time running home. He turned and ran to catch up. The thought of being alone in the jungle scared him.
After fifty yards he caught sight of th
e back of a soldier, he couldn’t tell who it was. He stopped and crouched watching the back trail. He felt sure no one was following.
Minutes later he caught up to both squads. They were crouched waiting for him. Carver saw him and raised his eyebrows. O'Connor shook his head, there was nothing following. Sergeant Carver looked to Lieutenant Caprielli, who nodded. Sergeant Carver called to the line, “1st and 2nd squads coming in with wounded.”
“We heard you coming a mile away, come on in.” They stepped out of the dark jungle into the bright midday sun. They covered their eyes and squinted. The sun was brilliant after the darkness of the jungle. The rolled barbed wire was put back into place once they were inside.
Lieutenant Caprielli and Sergeant Carver double timed to the headquarters tent. Corporal Hooper was helped to a jeep, thrown onto the hood and carted back to the medical tent near the beach.
O'Connor went to his hole and sat on the edge. He took off his helmet and took a long pull from his canteen. He drained it and started on another. It was warm and had a chemical taste, but it was the best water he’d ever tasted.
Dunphy sat beside him and put his head into his hands. He rubbed his short dark hair. O'Connor put his hand on his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, could’ve happened to anyone.”
Dunphy looked at him sideways, “What the hell you talking about?”
O'Connor stared, “Thought you were feeling bad about wounding Hooper. I was saying it could’ve happened to anyone.”
“Wounding Hooper? He made me fumble that grenade. The stupid spic could’ve killed us both. Getting his ass blown off was what he deserved.”
