by Chris Glatte
The GIs waiting outside were startled to see the mass exodus. “What the hell’s happening?” Corporal Mathews asked.
O’Connor spoke between breaths. “Shitload of Japs downstairs coming up. We don’t have enough guys or ammo to stop ‘em.” He pointed toward the jungle. “Take the men back into the jungle and link up with Carver.”
Mathews looked angry. “We’re giving up the bunker?”
O’Connor nodded. “No choice, we can’t hold it. No way.” He pushed him along. “Get outta here. I’ll cover you.”
Mathews nodded and waved the men to follow. He jumped out of the trench and started running down the slope. A Nambu from an adjacent bunker opened up on the streaking soldiers. They dove for cover, but not before Private Taggert buckled and fell from multiple hits.
O’Connor didn’t see it happen. He was too focused on the space in front of him. He heard the clanging of many boots slamming up the metal stairs. He thrust his M1 around the corner of the bunker and without seeing what he was shooting at, fired. He pulled back and Griffin took his place and fired another fifteen rounds. The doorway sparked and zinged as the Japanese fired back.
O’Connor pulled Griffin from the doorway. “We gotta go!” He jumped out of the trench and ran as fast as his feet would carry him. He saw the crumpled body of Private Taggert and the rest of the squad crawling downhill. He felt bullets whizzing past him and he realized he was about to die. He dove behind a thin layer of cover as bullets sliced only inches over his head. Griffin slammed in beside him.
Mathews was five yards ahead firing in the direction of the bunker. He yelled to O’Connor. “Nambu’s got us pinned!”
O’Connor looked to the bunker they’d just left. Any second the Japanese would fill the firing slits only yards away. They’d be cut to pieces. “We gotta go. We can’t stay here!” He raised his head but saw the winking flashes of the other machine gun and felt the heat of more near misses. “Shit!”
He yelled. “I’ll cover you. When I fire you gotta get the men back to that bomb crater.”
Mathews shook his head. “There’s no way, we’ll be cut to pieces.”
O’Connor screamed. “It’s our only fucking chance!” Corporal Mathews licked his lips and nodded. He knew he was going to die.
O’Connor put in a fresh magazine and took a deep breath, readying himself. He was about to roll to a firing position when he heard the soft explosions of mortars. At first, he thought they were about to die in a barrage of friendly fire, but the mortars were firing smoke. Relief flooded him. He yelled. “Wait for it to work!” the firing from the Nambu’s decreased and finally stopped. O’Connor could hear Japanese shouting from the nearest bunker. He got to his knees. The smoke was billowing, covering the area. “Now! Get a move on!”
The GIs sprang to their feet and ran down the slope. They didn’t stop running until they ran into friendly lines. They took cover and laid on their backs gasping for breath. Platoon Sergeant Carver found them and laid beside O’Connor. “We thought you were finished. We lost track of you.”
O’Connor finally got his breath back and sat up. He looked up the hill at the smoke screen. He couldn’t see the bunkers at all. “We took a bunker but didn’t have enough men to hold it. The bottom floor was filled with Japs. They must have underground connectors. There was no way to hold it.”
Carver nodded. “You were the only unit that made any headway. Fucking Japs sliced us to ribbons with interlocking fields of fire. We’re moving back to the city. Gonna let the navy and artillery boys have another go at it.”
O’Connor shook his head. “Didn’t work the first time.”
Carver nodded and spit a stream of tobacco juice. “Nope.”
83
Able company moved to the safety of Cebu City. They walked single file. Most had their heads down, exhaustion etched into their faces. Alongside them another line of medics and soldiers carried stretchers with wounded and dead GIs.
Eventually they found an unoccupied area and milled about looking for places to sit. The other company’s moved to different parts of the city and spread out to find cots and food.
Captain Flannigan strode up and looked the bedraggled bunch over. As they milled about he called them to attention. Most were too tired to comply, but it kept them from sitting down. In his booming voice, Flannigan addressed them. “The attack failed despite having detailed maps from the very men that built the complex.” He paused for dramatic affect. He put his balled fists onto his hips. “To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.” Platoon Sergeant Carver stood with his fists clenched and his jaw set. Flannigan continued. “Tomorrow we attack again and this time I won’t accept anything but total victory. Every man will give everything they have … everything!” He screamed the last word. His face turned a deep shade of red, almost purple. “Dismissed!”
The men stood in stunned silence, then slowly broke up and moved to find the shade. Carver remained stock still. Lieutenant Swan was beside him and noticed his posture and his hatred filled stare. “Easy Carver. Easy. It’s not worth it.”
Carver shook his head and seethed. “The coward sat back all safe behind friendly lines while we died and he’s got the nerve to question the men’s will to fight? That doesn’t sit right with me.”
He took a step toward Flannigan, but Swan grabbed his arm and held him tight. Carver looked at the hand holding him, then at Swan. Swan leaned close. “These men need you tomorrow. You go spouting off to Flannigan, he’ll put you in the brig. He’s already got it in for you. Don’t give him an excuse. That sumbitch ain’t worth it.”
Carver relaxed and shrugged out of Swan’s grip. He watched Flannigan walking away but stayed put. He leveled his gaze at Swan. “You’re right. He’s a piece of shit. I just can’t see how tomorrow will be any different than today.”
Swan nodded, thinking about the men he’d lost and the men he’d lose tomorrow. He shook his head. “There has to be another way.”
Sam Santos sat amongst the GIs. The joyous dancing and partying from the night before was long gone. There was barely any talking. Most GIs sat with their heads down. Some slept, others tried to sleep and still others cleaned and re-cleaned their weapons. As the evening progressed, everyone was thinking about the morning.
The thumping of navy guns slamming the bunkers gave them little comfort. It had barely put a dent in them the day before, and there was no reason to think tonight would be any different. At least it would keep the Japanese awake.
Sam wasn’t involved in the assault, but he’d heard the intense clash and seen the wounded and dead GIs it produced. It tore at his heart to see the Americans who’d help free his people, looking so dejected and down. He knew the plan was another frontal assault in the morning. How many more will die?
A memory of walking along a path with his brother and father came to him. He remembered they were hiking and his father would stop often and point out various plants and explain their virtues or dangers. It was information Sam’s father learned from his mother, Sam’s grandmother. The memory made his heart ache, but it also made him spring to his feet and search for Felipe.
He found him getting ready for a snooze. When Felipe saw him, he smiled. “Sam, how are you? You look worried.”
“I think I know a way around the Japanese. A way to hit them from behind where they won’t be expecting it.”
He told Felipe about the trail his father had taken him on. How it wrapped around the low hills then cut into the jungle and turned back toward town. The bunker system had effectively cut off the trail, but he assumed most of it was still there.
“It’s a long march, but we could make it in a night and be behind the bunkers by morning.”
Felipe snapped his fingers and got to his feet. “Let’s talk with Colonel Cushing.”
Colonel Cushing liked the idea. He’d watched the assault from afar and was frustrated he wasn’t able to join in the fighting. This would be a way to involve his Filipino partisans and ma
ybe the answer to overwhelming the Japanese. The trail wasn’t on the map he had laid out on the table, but Sam assured him it was there. He drew an ‘X’ on the map where the trail began. He was confident he could find it.
Colonel Cushing rolled the map and tucked it under his armpit. “We’ll talk with General Arnold. He’s been looking for a way to flank the Japs, but the jungle is too dense. Your trail may be the answer.”
Sam felt overwhelmed. He was being thrust into the middle of great and powerful men. Felipe slapped him on the back as they left the house that acted as Colonel Cushing’s headquarters. He whispered into Sam’s ear. “This trail of yours better be there.” Sam flushed, and nodded, picturing it in his head. He was sure of it.
General Arnold was huddled around his own map of the island. The group was shown inside the tent and Sam was introduced. The general was tall, and his balding scalp was dotted with perspiration. His chin was strong, accentuated with a deep cleft. Sam thought he looked tired, but he immediately felt at ease despite his rank. Sam snapped off what he hoped was a proper salute. The general smiled and his eyes shone. He returned the salute. “I’ve been told you know of a trail that can get us behind the Japs?”
Sam nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir.” He stepped forward to the map. He took a moment to study it. There were lines and arrows in red and black with symbols and numbers that made Sam’s head spin. He panicked for a moment trying to get his bearings.
The general stepped forward and put his finger on a point. “Ignore all that other stuff. The bunker’s here.” He slid his finger down a little, “and we’re here.”
Sam nodded and ran his finger up the map. “The trail is here.” He ran his finger along the map, laying out the general pathway he remembered. “It wraps around these low hills then cuts back for a ways then cuts back to the city.”
General Arnold rubbed his cleft chin. “That’s a mighty long trail. You say you walked it with your father?”
Sam gulped, “And my brother. We did it over two days. We stayed the night in the jungle. It’s a good trail, although it’s probably overgrown a bit since the Japanese invaded.”
General Arnold nodded. “Looks to be about twelve miles.” Silence filled the tent. He looked around the room at the other officers. “Any of our boys up to that kind of a march tonight?”
There was mumbling and lowered gazes. Captain Flannigan stepped forward and spoke up. “Able Company can make the trek, sir.”
“Weren’t your men at the front of the attack today?”
Flannigan nodded. “Yes sir. But they’ve been resting ever since.”
General Arnold nodded and looked at his other officers. He centered his gaze on Captain Stark. “I want Baker Company to go too.”
Captain Stark stiffened and nodded. “Yes, sir. We can make it.”
Arnold continued. “As far as we know there’s no Japs out there. They’re all in the bunkers, which means you can use lights and you can move fast. You’ll have to in order to be in position by morning. Take plenty of ammo, and water, but otherwise keep it light. No mortar units. The Navy guns and Army artillery will provide all the fire support you need. Be sure you have fresh batteries for the radios. The key will be coordination.” He looked the map over then at Colonel Cushing. “Can you spare some fighters for this excursion? I’d sure like to have some locals along in case our boys get lost out there.”
Colonel Cushing nodded. “I’ll send Major Cruz and her platoon.” He put his large weathered hand on Sam’s shoulder. “And Sam too, of course.” Cushing gave the order. “Inform Major Cruz. Hurry.”
Felipe snapped off a salute and ran from the tent. Sam watched him go, sudden doubt filling his head. They’re all counting on me.
The news that they’d be marching all night along an unknown jungle trail did not go over well with the GIs. Platoon Sergeant Carver was stunned when he first heard the news from Lt. Swan. He’d started laying out all the reasons it was a bad idea, but it was obvious it would do no good. Lieutenant Swan was following orders and those orders called for speed. There was no time to discuss it, they had to get moving.
They rode in heavy trucks through Cebu City then along a well-used dirt road. They turned onto a smaller road and finally stopped when it got too narrow to continue. It wasn’t dark yet, but the shadows were lengthening. In a few hours it would be dark. There was an urgency to find the trailhead before that.
They piled out of the trucks and the Filipinos took the lead, following the child warrior. Carver recognized the kid from the fighting in the city. He hoped he knew what he was doing, or they’d be spending the night in the hot, muggy jungle going in circles. Two full companies of GIs trudged after the guides. It was a long snaking line of soldiers.
Carver stood to the side as the GIs passed. None looked happy about the mission, but they were used to being abused. When there was a hard job to do, they’d put their heads down and do it. Whether they agreed with it or not was irrelevant, they followed orders and got it done. That’s why they call us grunts.
Eventually they turned off the road and took another trail. Sam was obviously relieved when they found it. He couldn’t keep from smiling. He, along with the Filipino platoon led by Major Cruz took point and moved fast. There was little danger of ambush, all the Japanese were concentrated in the bunkers.
Once darkness descended, they snaked along the trail with blazing lanterns and flashlights. Carver suspected they must have looked like a long lit up centipede from above. He glanced to the sky, hoping the flyboys had gotten the word they were out there.
The trail was narrow up front with vines hanging down and roots crossing, but with so many soldiers tromping past, it widened and cleared out quickly. By the time the last soldier passed, the trail was more like a highway.
Sergeant O’Connor was the leading GI, walking alongside Major Cruz at the tail of the Filipino platoon. He was torn about her presence. He was overjoyed to be walking beside her, but terrified at seeing her engage in the coming combat.
When he first saw her joining their group, it was all he could do to keep himself from running up and embracing her. Instead he’d smiled and nodded at her. She’d acknowledged his presence but got on with the mission at hand. Once they found the trailhead and settled into a comfortable pace, she hung back until they were walking side by side.
O’Connor thought it must be obvious to the others that they had a history, but he didn’t care. He was happy to be beside her again. She’d been the first to speak after they found each other. “I was worried about your safety today.”
“You were worried about me? I was worried about you.”
She shook her head. “I was in no danger. You were fighting in the bunkers.”
“I didn’t know where you were.” He looked at his mud-covered boots. “I wasn’t in danger either,” he lied.
She looked up at him. “We are soldiers, both of us. Do not lie to protect me. I’m not a flower in a vase, but a weed in the mud. We are both in danger and will be until the Japanese are all dead.” He tried to speak but she continued. “Our lovemaking was a brief respite from this ugly war, but it didn’t uproot me and place me in a vase. I’m still very much in the mud … alongside you.”
He took a few steps in silence. Her toughness was the very thing that made her so irresistibly attractive to him. He’d never met a woman with even a quarter of her grit. He nodded. “I understand what you’re saying.” He leaned close to her ear, “But I think you’re the prettiest damned weed I’ve ever seen.”
She smiled and he thought his heart would melt. “You Americans … so sentimental. Tell me more about where you come from … Ory-Gun?”
He smiled. “Oregon. You’d love it. The woods are full of deer and the streams and rivers full of huge Salmon, Steelhead, and trout too.” He gestured to the surrounding jungle. “It’s not nearly as hot, and the trees are bigger and stretch as far as you can see. There’s tall mountains that make the ones you’ve got here look like mole hills.
It rains a lot, but it’s not like the downpours you get here. It’s more of a slow constant, not an all at once dousing.” He looked into the growing darkness, imagining his home. “Seems like another world, another age.”
“You will return there?”
The question startled him. He hadn’t thought about his future beyond the war since landing on Guadalcanal back in ’42. With death surrounding him all the time, he assumed he’d die long before the war ended, or get wounded so bad, he’d want to die. This woman beside him made him want to survive, if only to have the chance to spend more time with her. He grit his teeth; this kind of thinking will get me killed. He shook his head. “Haven’t thought about it.”
She sensed the change that overcame him and understood. “It’s hard to think beyond the next day in this war.”
He nodded. “The next hour even.” They walked the rest of the way in relative silence, but it was okay. Her smell, the way she moved was all intoxicating to him. He was happy just to be with her and he sensed she felt the same way.
84
They marched all night, never stopping. They drank water and ate rations as they moved. If they had to take a shit, they did so quickly or risked being left behind. They carried light loads, ammunition, weapons and rations, but little else. Their rucks were light compared to the sixty pounds they normally marched with.
Platoon Sergeant Carver spent most of the march thinking about Lilly. He felt her letter in his breast pocket. He’d read it countless times. So much that he feared the paper would fall apart, or the words smudge. Despite being tired from the stresses of the day’s combat, the march bordered on enjoyable. There was no danger of ambush. It was as if he were on a stroll, albeit at night and in a hellish, steaming jungle setting.
