by Chris Glatte
There was yelling and hollering coming from the road. Lieutenant Swan called out from behind the line. “Stay put til we figure out what’s going on.” Carver could hear him using the radio. He pictured Captain Flannigan, the company CO, back at the beach all safe and sound, surrounded by support staff taking the radio call.
A minute later Lt. Swan was off the radio. He waved Carver over. Staying in a crouch Carver went to his side. Private Hanks gave him a nod and a smile like they were old friends. Carver scowled and focused on Lt. Swan. “Armor ran into a mine. Flannigan wants the company to advance to the airfield while they clean up the road.”
Carver spit and nodded. “Yes sir.”
“We’re the left flank of Able Company. Baker Company’s on the other side of the road. We’ve got plenty of support. We can take the airfield without armor.”
Carver kept his mouth shut, recognizing the signs of stress. He knew Swan tended to over-explain things when he was nervous. Carver nodded. “Yes sir. No problem.” Swan licked his lips and nodded.
Carver moved forward. When he was to his old position, he stood up and leaned on a palm tree. He could see the edge of the airfield. The men watched him and he waved them forward. They stood and with their weapons ready, slithered through the thinning cover.
It didn’t take long before the company was pressed to the edge of the airfield. There was no movement. There were deep bomb craters all along the airstrip and burning husks of Japanese Zeros, but no enemy soldiers. Able Company was spread from the middle of the airfield to the right edge. Across the dirt airstrip there was a cluster of single story buildings. Some had taken direct hits and were charred, but some were intact and could be hiding Japanese soldiers.
Lieutenant Swan came up beside him and assessed the situation. “What do you think? Looks abandoned.”
Carver pointed at the buildings. “I’d like some mortar fire on those buildings before we try to cross. One machine gun nest could fuck up our day.”
Lieutenant Swan cringed at Carver’s language but had grown to expect it. He nodded and motioned Private Hanks to come forward with the radio. Carver listened as he made contact with Flannigan and requested a mortar strike. Carver gritted his teeth as he heard the tirade coming through the radio. He couldn’t understand the words but he damn well got the gist. Swan’s face reddened. He signed off and spoke to Carver with barely contained rage. “Flannigan wants us to attack now.” He shook his head. “Thinks we’re stalling.”
Carver wanted to get on the horn and tell the pissant Captain to get up here and lead the charge if he was so hot on attacking, but instead he gritted his teeth and nodded.
Swan looked at his watch. “We attack along the entire line in two minutes. I want first platoon to put covering fire on those buildings while we advance. Pass the word.”
Carver nodded and pointed to a nearby private. “Pass the word to Sergeant O’Connor. Second platoon’s going across with first covering us.” The private nodded and scampered off to pass the word.
Lieutenant Swan pulled his M1 Carbine off his back and looked across the open field. The buildings across the way looked dark and abandoned. “Probably empty.”
Carver flicked off his safety and said, “We’ll soon find out, sir.”
Two minutes later Carver waved the men forward. He thought about letting the platoon move out in front of him. As a Platoon Sergeant, he had that right, but as he looked into the scared eyes of the soldiers around him, he couldn’t do it. He had to lead, even if it got him killed. Sorry Lilly.
He took the first step into the open field. He kept his eyes glued to the buildings across the open space, ready to throw himself to the ground at the first movement. First platoon opened fire to the right and Carver saw the front of the buildings erupt as bullets slammed into them. Carver waved and yelled. “Move out, let’s go.”
He started running, weaving back and forth to throw off any enemy sighting on him. The mass of men all around him, sprinting towards the goal filled him with pride.
They were a quarter of the way across when the buildings changed. Wooden front sections fell away exposing firing ports. Carver saw the dark shapes of muzzles poking out. The warning yell was caught in his throat as multiple machine guns opened up.
Bullets whizzed and snapped, but he was already going to the dirt. He heard the sickening sound of bullets slapping into meat. The screaming followed. He fast crawled to a nearby bomb crater and threw himself into the bottom, trying to catch his breath. The concentration of enemy fire was deafening.
More GIs fell into the crater with him. Their eyes were wide with fear. The fire from the jungle intensified. Carver crawled to the lip and peered over. They were halfway to the buildings and he could see the winking of muzzle flashes in the recessed windows, but they’d switched targets, slugging it out with the fire coming from the jungle. He looked left and saw GIs streaming across the airfield. They were taking small arms fire, but it seemed the main defenses were the buildings to his front.
GIs came up on either side of him. Carver said, “Need to get some mortars on the buildings.”
Private Ethan looked behind them. “I saw the lieutenant drop into a hole further back. Hopefully he’s on it.”
As if in answer the whistling of incoming rounds mixed with the machine gun fire. Mortar rounds from the four inchers fell and exploded in front of the buildings. Dirt plumes arced up and rained down. More explosives followed, walking back until they were landing on and amongst the buildings.
Men that were pinned in the open moved forward, many rolling into the bottom of his crater. Carver looked them over. “Anyone hit?” There was no response. “The mortars are kicking the crap outta them. We’ll be moving forward as soon as it stops. Check your weapons and ammo.”
Carver peered back over the edge. The buildings were constructed of wood, but the mortars were wreaking havoc. Whole sections of walls were coming apart. There was no more firing coming from the machine guns.
Like a light switch the mortars stopped their deadly work. The silence was quickly ended with the crack of rifle fire from the left. There were GIs up and charging across the airfield, firing as they went. Carver crouched on the side of the hole and yelled, “Let’s go!” He waved his arm forward and the men sprang up and ran past him, charging the smoking ruins.
Carver got to his feet and joined his men. He was ready with the Thompson, but there were no targets. His men streamed into the buildings and they fired into unseen targets. By the time Carver got there, the buildings were no longer a threat. He stood in the doorway of the center building and looked at the remains of one of the enemy machine gun crews. The tripod mounted Nambu was tilted up and the barrel was bent. There was a smoking hole directly behind it. The crew was sprawled back. He figured there’d been a three-man crew, but the shredded body parts made it difficult to identify where one body started and the other ended.
There was still sporadic firing. The GIs had learned to make sure the Japanese weren’t playing possum. Lieutenant Swan came up beside Carver. “Report, Sergeant.”
Carver didn’t salute but said, “Sir, your mortar strike broke their back. We lost three men when that Nambu opened up.” He pointed back the way they’d come. The dead were being put onto stretchers. “Once the mortars stopped, we moved up against light resistance.”
Lieutenant Swan nodded. “This was the heaviest concentration of Japs.” He pointed to the left. “The rest of the company didn’t have as hard a time.” The rest of the second platoon was trotting across the airfield, led by Sergeant O’Connor. Swan continued. “We’re continuing to push forward to the next town. Place called Pardo, or something. It’s another mile or so that way.” He pointed west.
Carver asked. “They figure out the armor?”
Swan nodded. “Yeah, the mine sweepers are clearing the road as we speak. Found a lot of ‘em apparently, along with camouflaged tank traps. They’ll probably be another hour. We’re not waiting though. Division wants us to
keep the pressure on.”
Carver nodded, “Yes sir. We’ll be ready to move when you give the order.”
O’Connor sidled up beside them and gave them a crooked grin. “That went pretty well.”
Carver nodded. “Thanks for the covering fire. We’d have been torn up without it.” O’Connor nodded, but kept his eyes scanning the surrounding area for threats. Carver thought, he’s got no off switch. Probably why he’s still alive. “We’re moving out soon.” O’Connor spit and moved off to inform his squad.
77
Captain Flannigan entered the outskirts of the airfield minutes later. He sat in the passenger seat of a Willys Jeep. He wore glasses and smoked a stogie. Carver poked O’Connor in the ribs. “Get a load of MacArthur over here.”
O’Connor sneered. “Jesus H. Christ, does he know how ridiculous he looks? And talk about a nice target for a Jap sniper. They’d think they brought down the big one.”
Carver grinned. “We’re not gonna be that lucky.”
The Jeep veered their way and accelerated. When it was close the driver slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust that wafted over second platoon. The men lowered their helmets and put their faces into their shirts. Carver could hear cussing and yelling. He didn’t do anything to stop it.
When the dust cleared Flannigan was standing outside the jeep with his fists on his hips and his shiny boots a bit wider than shoulder width. He moved the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other.
Lieutenant Swan hustled up to him and braced but didn’t salute. Captain Flannigan looked him up and down. “Don’t you salute superior officers, Lieutenant?”
Swan looked at the surrounding jungle. “Don’t wanna give the Jap snipers a bigger target than you’re already presenting them, sir.”
Flannigan tore his green tinted, mirrored sunglasses off and looked at the surrounding jungle and sneered. “I was told this area was secure. In fact, I heard that from you.” He leaned forward, using his height and athletic build to full advantage.
Swan stared back at him. “When you’re dealing with the Japs, nothing’s ever totally secure, sir.”
Platoon Sergeant Carver and Sergeant O’Connor were close enough to hear the exchange. O’Connor leaned close. “I’ll be damned. When did Swan get a backbone?”
Carver answered. “Bougainville, I guess.” He grinned. “Hell, I remember when his biggest concern was shitting his pants. Now he’s facing down Captain America.”
“Captain numb-nuts more like it.”
Captain Flannigan went back to his normal arrogant stance. His mouth turned down as he looked upon his skinny Lieutenant. Swan stared back and when Flannigan realized he wasn’t getting his salute, he moved past him. He spotted Carver and O’Connor. O’Connor moved to walk away but Flannigan pointed at them and said. “Sergeants. I’d like a word.”
They turned toward the striding captain, O’Connor much slower than Carver. Neither saluted. Flannigan gritted his teeth but decided to let it pass. He stood in front of them. “Tell me about the attack?”
Lieutenant Swan had kept pace with Flannigan. His face flushed with anger. Carver looked past Flannigan and got the subtle nod from Swan. It didn’t go unnoticed and Flannigan flinched slightly but insisted. “Well?”
Carver didn’t want to get into the middle of an officer pissing match. “Under Lieutenant Swan’s guidance we advanced across the airfield.” He pointed at the smoldering buildings behind them. “The Japs had hidden three MGs in there and when we came across they opened up on us. We lost three men, but with the help of O’Connor’s covering fire and Swan’s mortar strike, we were able to take the buildings without any more casualties.” Flannigan raised an eyebrow and Carver threw in, “Sir.”
Captain Flannigan nodded, happy with his small victory. “Thank you, Sergeant.” He looked to Swan. “I like to get the story from men at the pointy end of the stick.”
Carver couldn’t help himself. “In that case you coulda asked Lieutenant Swan. He was in the hole beside me.” He stared at Flannigan. Where were you, asshole?
Flannigan puffed up his ample chest and slapped Swan’s back. “Good boy. It’d be nice to be able to fight alongside you men, but captains don’t lead attacks unfortunately.”
They all looked at the ground, embarrassed for the man. Flannigan sensed the awkward moment and put his sunglasses back on. He spun around and strode back to the waiting Jeep. Once he was seated, O’Connor trotted forward and waved for his attention. They had a brief exchange and Flannigan’s lips went flat and he nodded slightly. He waved forward and the driver peeled out sending rocks and debris into the men.
Lieutenant Swan asked, “What the hell’d you say to the man?”
O’Connor smiled and brushed dirt off his face. “Told him he looked an awful lot like MacArthur and for his own safety and that of any one around him he should try to blend in more.” Swan’s jaw dropped. “Don’t worry I said it so he thought I was concerned for his safety cause he’s such a valuable part of the war effort.”
Swan swatted him on the back. “You crazy son-of-a-bitch.” He pointed at the Jeep tearing across the airfield. “You know he makes his driver drive like that? I talked to the kid about it. He hates it, but Flannigan likes to make an entrance.”
Carver shook his head. “What an asshole.” Swan gave him a stern look and Carver held up his hands. “Sorry sir, it slipped.”
Swan nodded. “Just don’t say it in front of the men. They have to respect their officers or they won’t follow orders.”
Carver nodded knowing the drill better than most. He pointed to the road leading from the airfield. “We taking that to the next town?” Swan nodded.
Twenty minutes later, Able Company was leading the way along the dirt road. It was hard-pack with occasional deep rivulets and potholes from the monsoon rains that raged through during the rainy season. The jungle was too thick to push through, so the company was spread out along the road. The men had their rifles ready.
The going was slow. The lead element was a squad from the minesweeper platoon. They swept the area with their metal detectors. The operators wore heavy, thirty-pound battery packs and headphones and slowly swept side to side.
Platoon Sergeant Carver was right behind them, ready to cover them at the first sign of trouble. The GI next to him shook his head. “Those guys sure have a lot of balls, walking out in front without so much as a pistol, and not knowing if their next step will be their last.”
Carver nodded. “Keep a sharp eye out. We’re their only protection.”
They’d just rounded the first corner when the lead minesweeper stopped and crouched. The rest of them dropped and Carver and his squad put their rifles to their shoulders and swept the area. The minesweeper yelled, “I found one.”
Carver looked to Lt. Swan. He licked his lips and yelled, “Second squad move up and cover them while they mark the mine.”
Sergeant O’Connor and his squad stood and trotted forward. They moved alongside the minesweepers and watched the jungle. The minesweeper swept his metal detector over the area and marked the borders of the mine with red flags. O’Connor felt like his ass was hanging in the wind. If the Japs were waiting to ambush them, he wouldn’t know about it until the bullets smacked into him.
It only took a couple of minutes before they were back up and moving forward. The GIs gave the mine a wide berth.
They found four more mines before they got to the outskirts of the town. Each time, O’Connor thought he’d be in the middle of an ambush, but it never happened.
Able Company halted and Lieutenant Swan got on the radio to Captain Flannigan. He listened and nodded, then handed the receiver back to Private Hanks. He motioned for the men to spread out and advance.
Carver nodded and stood. The GIs were careful not to bunch up, but it was tough in the confines of the road and surrounding thick jungle. When they were close to the first shack, they trotted in and spread out. It wasn’t much of a town. It consis
ted of a row of thatch buildings on stilts and a few wooden shantys that looked like they’d been thrown together with leftover lumber of various types.
There was no one in sight and Carver thought it might be abandoned, until a shot rang out. A GI spun with blood spurting from his shoulder. He went down screaming. He dropped his M1 and held his right shoulder as blood seeped between his fingers.
The rest of the Company dropped and brought their weapons up. The crack of weapons firing filled the air. Bullets slammed into the buildings. The wooden shantys came apart with countless high velocity impacts, but the thatch buildings seemed to absorb the bullets, most passing straight through.
Carver yelled, “McGillis, get that BAR working.” Seconds later the heavy thumping of the .30 caliber Browning Automatic Rifle joined the fray. The BAR from Sergeant O’Connor’s squad opened up too. Return fire was sporadic, but another GI went down, his head snapping back as a bullet center-punched his forehead. Carver saw the red mist descend on his body like a gruesome fog. “Pour it on, pour it on!”
Lieutenant Swan yelled, “Grenade launchers and flame throwers up.” GIs raced forward and went into crouches. They aimed their grenade launch modified M1s. The bulbous grenades mounted on the muzzle attachment made them look like the barrels had split at the end. They aimed at the nearest buildings on stilts and fired. The grenades arced, trailing thin streams of gunpowder and disappeared into windows and thatch walls. The explosions weren’t impressive, but the resulting smoke billowing from the roof told of their destructive power.
Soon the dry thatch was on fire. The grenadiers reloaded and arced more grenades into buildings. The first thatch hut was burning with fierce ferocity. Carver watched as a Japanese soldier burst through a burning wall. The soldier ran straight for them. He was covered in burning thatch and his uniform was glowing with embers. Carver put three .45 caliber slugs into him and he dropped to the ground, sending sparks flying in all directions. The fire consumed him, turning him to blackened char within seconds.
