by Chris Glatte
Carver growled, “What is it, Perkins?”
He dug into the satchel and pulled out three letters. “Mail call.”
Lilly. Carver reached out and snatched the letters before Private Perkins could get a look at them. The fatigue fell from his shoulders like shrugging off a heavy pack. Perkins said something, but Carver didn’t hear him. He finally left and Carver turned the letters over in his hand, inspecting every millimeter like they held clues to all the mysteries of the world. Each letter had a faint, but distinct smell. Lilly.
He read each letter twice and fell asleep with them draped over his chest. He dreamed of her and the hammock in the jungle.
Sergeant O’Connor was exhausted, but restless. He laid on his cot staring up at the ceiling of the army green tent. The heat swept over him in waves, but his body was tired enough to sleep through a trip through hell itself. His mind, on the other hand, whirled and wouldn’t shut down. The image of Celine disappearing into the tunnel wouldn’t leave him. He wondered if she’d caught up to the fleeing Japanese. He wondered if she was in combat at that very instant. He told himself that she’d survived without his help for this long. She’d lived through much more dangerous situations over the past three years of occupation. But it still drove him crazy knowing she was in danger while he relaxed in safety. Sleep finally caught up to him and he slipped into a dreamless abyss of blackness.
He was awakened what seemed like only seconds but was actually six hours later. It took persistent poking and prodding by a nervous Private Perkins, but he finally cracked his eyes open and sneered. “This better be good, Private.”
“Sorry Sarge. Wouldn’t a done it if I had any other choice. Lieutenant Swan wants all the NCOs to report to the gymnasium as soon as possible.”
O’Connor swung his legs to the side of the cot and put his head in his hands. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Perkins turned to leave. “You hear any news about those Filipinos chasing the Japs?”
Perkins shook his head. “No, sir. Not a word.”
Ten minutes later O’Connor sat next to Carver and the other NCOs and officers of the 164th Regiment. Half the men looked haggard and tired, the other half rested and clean. Only half the regiment had been used, along with elements of the 180th, to assault the bunker system.
O’Connor looked Carver over. He looked tired, but he had a slight smile on his face, as if he knew some secret that no one else did. O’Connor felt like hell. “What’re you grinning about?”
Carver snapped out of his reverie. “Huh? What?”
“You look like the cat that ate the canary. What’s up?”
Carver shook his head. He still had dark stains of mud and gunpowder on his face, making his teeth look extra white. “Got some letters from Lilly. That’s all.”
O’Connor looked at his boots and shook his head. “Jesus, Sarge. You’re like some love-struck rube.”
The grin disappeared from Carver’s face. “Watch your mouth, Sergeant. I’m still your superior.”
O’Connor looked to the podium and shook his head. “You actually think we’re gonna survive this don’t you?”
Carver looked at his old friend. Neither of them thought they’d make it off the Canal in ’42. When they did, they thought they’d never make it out of Bougainville in ’44. Now they’d made it through the first phase of the Philippine campaign.
Carver realized his attitude had changed since meeting Lilly. He saw a possible future he wanted like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Was he losing his edge? Was the reason he kept surviving because he’d already accepted his fate? Would Lilly be his death? He wasn’t able to ponder it long.
General Arnold strode in and the entire cadre sprang to their feet and saluted. He saluted back. “At ease men. Have a seat.” He waited until they’d re-settled.
“We routed the Japanese today. The remnants of their shattered command are being pursued into the jungle where they will either be destroyed or contained. Either way, the southern part of the island is secure from a long and brutal occupation, thanks to your courage and valor. Fighting continues in the north, but we expect victory there soon. Convey my gratitude to your men.”
He stepped to the map hanging from a board behind him. With a wooden pointer, he smacked it. “This is our next target. Bohol.” There was sniggering from the fresh troops and a murmur went through the group. “Odd name, I know, but it has an estimated thousand Japanese soldiers that need to be dealt with.” He smacked the bigger island to the north of Bohol. “We need to clear Bohol before we move on southern Negros. We don’t want to leave any Japs behind us.” He let that sink in. “Bohol is tiny, but well defended. The Japs are well dug in on the high ground. We don’t think they have much in the way of artillery, at most some mortars, but they’ve honeycombed the island and we’ll have to root them out one by one.” He looked at the soldiers. It was nothing they hadn’t heard before. “Portions of the 164th and 40th will be teaming up for this one. There’s a contingent of Filipino fighters on Bohol. You’ll link up and they’ll guide you inland.” He looked at his notes. “Major Ingencio is in command.”
He looked the men over. “I know we’re barely done with things here, but MacArthur wants Negros taken yesterday, which means we have to move fast. We’ll be debarking two days from now. It’s a short boat ride. We don’t expect any hostilities on the beach, but our destroyers and cruisers will be standing by, just in case.” He collected his notes and smiled at the faces staring back at him. “The Bohol operation will involve three companys. Able from the 164th, Easy and Charlie from the 40th.”
It was all Carver could do not stand up and protest. He could see the back of Captain Flannigan’s head a couple rows in front. He tried to bore holes in his skull with his eyes. He muttered under his breath, “Son-of-a-bitch.”
O’Connor leaned back in the metal folding chair and crossed his arms. The thought of leaving the island before knowing the outcome of the Celine’s mission, made him nauseous.
General Arnold stepped away from the podium. “I know we’ve been through a lot, but we have to keep our foot on the gas pedal. The Japs are reeling and the harder we push the quicker we can end this thing and get home.” He turned and strode out the way he’d come.
The room broke into varied conversations and started to clear out. O’Connor was on his feet. Carver started to walk away, he had a lot to prep for the coming mission. O’Connor shook his head. “I can’t leave without knowing how Celine … I mean Major Cruz is faring in the jungle. I can’t leave it hanging like that.”
Carver remembered the look O’Connor and Cruz had shared in the tunnel. He’d forgotten all about it in his extreme fatigue and joy at reading Lilly’s letters. He looked hard at O’Connor. “Hell, I’d forgotten about that. Obviously, something happened between you two. Look, I’m sure she …”
O’Connor interrupted him. “Doesn’t matter. She’s off chasing Japs and I’m leaving the island to fight on another.” He looked at his feet. “Probably better this way.” He spit a stream of clear spit.
Carver knew he was hurting. “She’ll be alright. She’s been doing this shit for years now. She’s an impressive soldier.”
“I know all that.” He cut his eyes at Carver. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”
Carver nodded. “I know. I think about Lilly every damned day. I…”
O’Connor cut in. “Lilly’s safe back at the hospital. All she’s gotta worry about is getting groped by horny doctors. Celine’s out chasing Japs in the jungle.”
Carver’s jaw rippled as he gritted his teeth. He was going to say something more but realized nothing he could say would make it better. He’s confused about his feelings. He put his finger in O’Connor’s face. “When we get to butthole, or Bohol or whatever the hell island, you stay focused on doing your job. The men need your leadership. Understand?” O’Connor pushed his finger away and stalked off like a scolded child.
The next day was spent resu
pplying and getting ready for the assault on Bohol Island. Most of the regiment lounged, but Able Company soldiers were busy.
Carver was making the rounds, making sure the disgruntled GIs were staying focused. He came across a group of GIs hand loading magazines with bullets. Private McGillis looked up at Carver. “Why we always get the shitty end of the stick, Sarge? There’s other companies seen half the combat we have, but we’re always picked.”
Carver felt the same way but couldn’t let on. “Because we’re the best, McGillis, that’s why.”
Private Gilson chimed in. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Sarge. It’s Flannigan. Always volunteering us, trying to get promoted by putting us in harm’s way.”
Carver knelt beside the men and spit a stream onto the muddy ground. “Look, I know it’s a shitty deal. You’re probably right about Flannigan, I don’t know, but we’ve got a job to do and the quicker we do it the quicker this war ends and we all go home.” The GIs kept loading their magazines. “We’ve got a good officer in Lieutenant Swan. He’ll do what’s best for us, despite the captain.”
Private First-Class Haley squinted at Carver. “Why is it we never see Cap’n Flannigan when the shit hits the fan?”
Carver stood and looked over the harbor. A steady stream of supplies were being loaded onto troop ships. He grinned at the GIs but didn’t answer.
Sergeant O’Connor made sure his men were ready and getting what they needed. He did his duties on auto-pilot. His thoughts were elsewhere. He kept glancing toward the heavy jungle to the north where the Filipino guerrillas were chasing the remnants of the Japanese forces.
A full day had passed since he’d last seen Major Cruz and not knowing if she was alive or dead was tearing him up. He’d caught Platoon Sergeant Carver watching him and felt embarrassed. He knew he was acting like some love-struck child. He immersed himself in over preparing for the coming landing, but Celine was never far from his thoughts.
That evening, after the men had eaten, he wandered around the beach. The gentle lapping of the waves against the white sand was soothing. He watched the sun disappear into the sea. The day suddenly transferred to night. He shook his head. There’s no dusk here, only day and night.
He found himself walking past HQ. It was set up in a large, open air tent. General Arnold had moved out of Cebu City in order to be closer to the developing operation.
The coming landing on Bohol was a minor show. The real push would come from the main forces of the 40th and Americal Divisions landing on the southern and northern ends of Negros Island. Negros was due North from Cebu, but the ships had to move west until they cleared the tip of Cebu before they could turn north. The assault on Bohol would happen first, a couple days before the first landings on Negros.
O’Connor stopped to watch the hustle and bustle around the tent. Runners were darting into and out of the area like ants on urgent errands. The machine never rests. He listened as a flight of distant bombers streaked overhead. There was still sun up there and he could see light reflecting off the aircraft. He wondered where they were headed. There were any number of Japanese bases and occupied islands within range of the multiple American airfields. Can they strike Japan from here? He shook his head.
He was about to move on when he saw a different soldier running toward the HQ. He wore a khaki top and shorts and his skin was dark. A guerrilla. O’Connor became alert and without knowing he was doing it, ran toward the lit up interior of the tent.
He got to the guard posted outside and stopped when he was challenged with an outstretched rifle. “Halt.”
O’Connor eyed the man. “Let me through, Private. I have business inside.”
“Sorry, Sarge. My orders are to limit entry to everyone except runners and officers.”
O’Connor looked into the tent and could see the guerrilla speaking urgently to an officer. He recognized Colonel Cushing. O’Connor was desperate for news about Major Cruz. He eyed the soldier and squinted. The GI looked competent and ready to enforce his orders at any cost. O’Connor imagined himself taking him out but decided it would do no good to be put in the brig, and perhaps the hospital. He moved away from the guard, but stood a few yards away waiting for the runner to come out.
He could see the animated conversation continuing beyond the guard. Soon Cushing conferred with other officers then came back and relayed a message to the Filipino, who snapped off a crisp salute and moved to the door.
O’Connor stopped him as he was about to run past. The slight guerrilla stopped and focused on Sergeant O’Connor. His face lit up when he recognized him. “Sergeant O’Connor. Hello.”
“Sam, I didn’t recognize you at first.” He grasped Sam’s shoulders and squared him up to himself. “What’s happening out there?” He forced himself not to ask about Major Cruz.
Sam’s smile faded. “We’ve been fighting a running battle with the Japs. They continue to retreat, but they leave small units behind to slow us down.” He looked into O’Connor’s eyes. “The Major is wounded.”
All color drained from O’Connor’s face. He almost staggered as his legs threatened to give out. “What? How bad?”
“A sniper.” He looked at the ground. “It was my fault. I shot an instant too late.”
O’Connor shook Sam’s shoulders. “Is, is she dead?”
Sam looked up abruptly and shook his head. “No, but she’s hurt bad. The others are bringing her out.” He pointed toward the tent he’d just left. “Colonel Cushing ordered me to bring a doctor and a medic to keep her alive while they move her.”
O’Connor nodded and released him. “Go! What are you waiting for? Go!” Sam looked confused but darted away.
O’Connor went back to the tent and the guard tilted his head. O’Connor said, “Is Lieutenant Swan or Captain Flannigan in there?”
The guard shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
O’Connor had had enough. He lunged and got right up to the guard’s face before he could block him with his rifle. He put his finger close to his nose and seethed. “Don’t fuck with me, soldier.” The guard blanched, sensing O’Connor’s malice and deadly intent.
There was movement just inside the tent flap and a familiar voice said. “Sergeant O’Connor is that you?”
O’Connor stepped away from the guard and replied, “Yes sir, Lieutenant Swan, it’s me. Can I have a word, sir?”
“Of course.” He addressed the guard. “At ease soldier.” The guard looked relieved and stepped aside. O’Connor moved past him. “What’s up, Sergeant?”
“Sir, that Filipino runner that just came in, Sam,” Swan nodded. “He had news about Major Cruz.”
Lieutenant Swan nodded but looked grim. “Yes. She took a sniper’s bullet. She’s in critical condition. They’re bringing her here as quickly as they can.”
O’Connor’s eye twitched, and his voice broke. “I know. I need to go out with the medic to meet her on the trail. I could help.”
Swan frowned and his forehead wrinkled. “What? Why? What’s this all about?”
O’Connor shook his head, wondering what to say. “Sir, I … well, I just need to help her. It would mean a lot to me.”
Swan shook his head. “They won’t be here until tomorrow morning at the earliest. You’ll be on a ship steaming toward Bohol.” He saw the anguish overcome O’Connor. O’Connor looked around like a caged animal.
The sudden realization came to Swan. My God. He’s in love with her. He put a hand on his shoulder and could feel the tension of his sinewy muscles. He wracked his brain for a solution. “I don’t know what went on between you and it’s probably best I never do. You’re obviously frantic. Maybe I could put you on sick call?”
The thought of bailing out on his men with a fake sickness nearly made him sick for real. Swan saw the disgust creep across his face. He was fascinated as he watched O’Connor sift through the decision. It was like watching a well-matched tennis game. Finally O’Connor shook his head. He looked into Swan’s eyes and he would’ve s
worn he saw the beginnings of tears. Nah, can’t be. This son-of-a-bitch is tough as nails.
O’Connor shook his head in defeat. “I can’t do that, sir.”
The boat ride from Talisay Bay to the beach at Tagbilarin on Bohol only took a few hours. To the relief of everyone, the landing was unopposed. In fact, they were met with joyous cheering from hundreds of Filipino guerrillas and townsfolk. They met up with units of the 40th Infantry Division soon after landing.
Bohol looked identical to the island they’d left that morning. The air was muggy, the beaches sparkling white, and the rolling hills covered with low, dense scrub and palms. Platoon Sergeant Carver thought it would be beautiful if not for the war.
Carver watched from a distance as the cheering guerrillas quieted at a command from a stocky guerrilla wearing a cocked jungle hat. They quickly formed into ranks and snapped to attention. They wore khaki tops and shorts that covered their dark skin and hard, sinewy muscle. Despite their broad smiles, they looked like a lethal force.
The stocky guerrilla stepped up to Captain Flannigan. “I’m Major Ingencio.” He gestured to the men forming up behind him. “And these are some of my men. We are at your disposal.”
Captain Flannigan braced and saluted the guerilla. Even from a distance, Carver could see the indecision in Flannigan’s salute. He was still unsure if the Filipino guerrilla officers used the same military courtesies.
