by Chris Glatte
The sounds of fighting was definitely closer now. The word passed back that Lt. Hopkins was sending out the Filipinos and a couple GIs to link up with the platoon. O’Connor didn’t envy them. Hooking up with a force in contact with the enemy at night was a great way to get shot by friendly fire.
Thirty minutes passed and O’Connor had to adjust his position. He was slowly sinking into the muck. He thought he might need to be hauled out with a winch.
Finally, there was movement in the line. He got to his feet and felt the blood rush back into his limbs. He had to use every ounce of strength to break free. The mud finally relented with a squelching sound. There was cursing up and down the line as each GI had to pull himself from the sticky goo, but finally they were moving again.
The battered platoon was happy to see them. O’Connor realized it was the 2nd platoon, his old unit. It was easy to stay anonymous in the darkness. He took up position with his new squad. They were the southernmost unit, protecting the rear and the heavy mortar crews.
Sergeant Flanders spoke to Corporal Bucholz. “No sense setting up the mortars before seeing what’s above us.” O’Connor thought it was pretty obvious the jungle canopy would negate the usefulness of the mortars but he hadn’t brought it up. He wasn’t in a command position anymore, just another rifleman. He’d helped dig the area out where the mortars would go, but knew his effort was being wasted.
Now he laid on the wet ground, facing south. It was the dead of night and he couldn’t see more than a few feet. He wanted to search out Platoon Sergeant Carver, but figured it was an excellent way to get killed. He’d find him once it got light if he was still alive.
He remembered how they parted; dragged kicking and screaming after exchanging fisticuffs. The time away and the long two week running fight, made the incident seem like an age ago. He’d been enraged, but he realized he wasn’t really upset with his old friend. He was mad at the situation. He was mad at the world for taking his woman out of his life forever, while Carver’s was still safe and sound in the rear, wiping wounded soldier’s noses. He’d reacted badly, he knew that and he figured Carver understood. As he felt himself sinking slowly into the mud again, he decided he’d apologize.
A soldier slid in beside him and squinted through the night. “Who’s that?”
O’Connor recognized Corporal Bucholz. He sneered, “It’s O’Connor.”
Bucholz reared back like he’d smelled something rotten. “Anything to report?”
O’Connor murmured, “Nope.”
“I just spoke with Sergeant Flanders. Lieutenant Hopkins thinks they’ll hit us again tonight. The platoon from the 164th got beat up pretty bad. Even lost a guy to a flash flood. They held though, but the Japs probably don’t know they’ve been reinforced, so Hopkins thinks they’ll make a final push.” He scowled at O’Connor even though he knew he couldn’t see him in the dark. “You’ll be nice and safe back here.”
O’Connor wanted to reach out and strangle him. He leaned in close and whispered. “You know Bucholz, I could snap your neck right now, haul you out to the jungle and everyone would think you were killed by Japs.” Bucholz pulled away like he’d spit poison. He spluttered and tried to speak, but O’Connor gripped his arm and squeezed. Bucholz tried to pull away from the vice-like grip but couldn’t. O’Connor hissed. “Leave me the fuck alone, Corporal.”
Bucholz searched to see if anyone was close enough to have heard the insubordinate words, but O’Connor was too smart for that. Bucholz blanched. He’d seen O’Connor fighting for his life all week and despite his dislike, respected his soldiering skills. He cursed under his breath. O’Connor relaxed his grip and Bucholz pulled his arm free. He slinked off into the night. O’Connor watched him go and decided he’d have to keep an eye on him. Don’t want a bullet in the back.
O’Connor fought to stay awake. His eyes were heavy. He bit his lip, drawing blood. The sharp pain focused his senses and kept him awake. He hadn’t heard or seen anything out of the ordinary. The mortar crews would shift positions occasionally, keeping the circulation moving, but other than that, it was deathly quiet. The creek babbled soothingly somewhere in the dark and he wondered if it was the same creek that had killed the GI he’d heard about. Yet another way for the jungle to kill a man.
He looked at his watch. He could barely make out the luminescent dials, but he thought it said 0430. It would be getting light in another hour or so. He welcomed the dawn, he didn’t like not knowing his surroundings.
He shifted his position and felt blood return to his legs. He moved his foot back and forth and the pins and needles coursed up and down his leg. He reached for his back-pack, propped a few feet away. He remembered a candy bar stuffed into the side pocket. He’d just pulled it free and was about to peel open the paper when there was sudden gunfire to the north. He startled and dropped the candy bar in the mud. He cursed and picked it up and shoved it into his pants pocket.
He looked behind him and saw the flashes of rifles and machine guns through the jungle. The shooting was sporadic at first but intensified. The .30 caliber Brownings opened up and he wondered if they were his units or Carver’s.
He pushed himself to his knees and brought his M1 to a ready position. He saw the face of the nearest soldier light up with a muzzle flash. It was Private Duncan. He was turning toward the shooting. O’Connor called to him. “Keep watching the rear. You’ll know if the Japs break through.” O’Connor couldn’t see him but heard him shift back to guarding the rear.
There was yelling and firing and the occasional detonation of what he thought must be grenades. Japs are close enough for grenades. He heard the mortar crew next to him start to assemble their pieces. He heard them thunk in the heavy base plate and attach the tube. He looked above and noticed the dawn was lightening the sky. He could see heavy branches above. No way they can fire through that. He turned his attention back to the rear. They’ll figure it out. I’m just a rifleman. He could hear Bucholz yelling something, and realized he was urging the mortar crews to set up. The sergeant in charge yelled back and shut him up. O’Connor let out a long sigh and concentrated on the jungle.
The fire fight lasted seven minutes, but it seemed longer. Without looking behind, O’Connor thought it sounded like the Japs had bitten off more than they could chew. The firing of the bolt action Arisakas and their yells when they charged, stopped. He thought they must be killed or retreating. The dawn was coming. It would be light enough to see in another ten minutes. He wondered if they’d pursue the Japs and finish them off.
His train of thought was abruptly cut off when he saw movement coming through the jungle. He froze and focused. Did I see that, or was it my imagination? He saw it again. He brought his M1 to his shoulder.
Private Duncan saw him and whispered. “What? What’s going on?”
O’Connor’s stare and his steady aim, was all the answer Duncan needed. He pulled his M1 to his shoulder and sighted down the barrel. He still didn’t see anything, but he’d learned to trust O’Connor’s instincts.
O’Connor tracked the soldier sneaking through the jungle. He was covered in uprooted bushes and branches and blended well with his surroundings, but once O’Connor spotted him, he couldn’t hide. O’Connor’s heart rate increased and he licked his dry lips. The soldier was only twenty yards away, moving from cover to cover with skill. From the corner of his eye, O’Connor saw more movement, more soldiers. He kept his sights on the lead man. He’d let him get a few yards closer. He hoped the rest of his squad was on their toes, or it would be a quick, one-sided fight.
The Japanese soldier veered his way. He was fifteen yards away and coming straight for him. Through the dimly lit misty jungle, he looked like a bush that had come alive.
O’Connor put pressure on the trigger. The rifle bucked in his hand. He fired three rounds and saw the soldier’s chest turn red and he dropped out of sight. He quickly shifted to the next man. He’d stopped at the sudden shot. It was the last mistake he made. O’Connor shot
him in the belly and he went down screaming.
There was yelling from the line of Japanese and suddenly they were up and charging. O’Connor tracked the nearest soldier and sent a volley at him. He went down. O’Connor felt a bullet smack the ground beside him. He rolled to his right and came onto his elbows and found another target. The soldier was screaming and running headlong through the jungle. O’Connor fired the rest of his magazine into him and he finally came to rest only feet in front of him.
O’Connor rolled to his back and reached into his ammo pouch for another mag. He heard rippling fire coming from his squad. If they could hold off the first wave, it would be enough time for the rest of the platoon to shift positions and support them. If they didn’t, they’d roll right over them and the heavy weapons units.
The Browning .30 caliber off to the right opened up and ripped a swath of death through the jungle. O’Connor reloaded and got onto one knee with his left foot forward. There were targets everywhere. He braced the carbine on his shoulder and fired three rounds into each charging soldier. They were yelling and weaving and firing, throwing off his aim, but he hit more than he missed.
He saw a group of three sprinting up the middle, straight at the mortar crew. He yelled a warning, but his voice was drowned out by the firing. He was sighting on the group, but they were getting too close to the line and he worried about hitting GIs. He pulled off and fired on another target behind the three men. His target dropped. He thought the mortar crew would be overrun, but at the last instant one of them rose up with his Thompson at his waist and hosed the three Japanese down. They toppled like bowling pins when the heavy slugs hit them.
More shapes to his immediate front caught his attention and he swung his rifle back. They were close, too close. He shot the nearest soldier and saw his surprised eyes as three rounds lanced through his chest and shoulder. He spun and dropped, clutching at his spurting chest. O’Connor leaped sideways just as the second man came bursting through the final cover. As he darted past him, O’Connor put the barrel on his neck and fired. Blood sprayed and the soldier went flat, like he’d been pinned by a giant’s hand. The third soldier was behind him. O’Connor knew he was in trouble. He dropped to the ground as the soldier fired and the bullet grazed his helmet, ripping it off his head.
The searing pain startled him, but he had no time to dwell on it. The Japanese soldier was chambering another round. From a sitting position O’Connor brought his carbine up and fired from the hip. He pulled the trigger as fast as he could and the bullets walked up the soldier’s body.
O’Connor got to his feet. He saw dim shapes all around him, grappling and fighting hand to hand. Private Duncan was swinging his M1 Garand like a baseball bat. O’Connor saw him connect with the side of a Japanese soldier’s head. He crumpled like a rag doll, his teeth little white specks spinning in the low light. There were two more.
O’Connor yelled and lunged to help the private, but another screaming soldier slammed into him and took him to the ground. The Japanese landed on him and he felt the wind get knocked from his lungs. He gasped for air as the Japanese rolled off him and sprang to his feet like a gymnast. O’Connor was on his back. He watched as the Japanese soldier brought his rifle up and the barrel centered on his chest. This is it! He waited for the bullet, but suddenly the soldier’s head exploded in gore and O’Connor felt bits of his skull and brain smattering his face. The body dropped sideways, staying stiff as it fell. In its place a GI stepped forward and reached his hand out for him. He recognized the gruff voice. “You hit?”
He tried to speak, but he still couldn’t catch his breath. He gasped, “C - C - Carver?”
Platoon Sergeant Carver grinned, but suddenly pulled his Thompson to his shoulder and fired off a quick burst. O’Connor could clearly see his old friend’s face light up in the muzzle flash. His teeth were gritted and he looked like a devil, but it was the happiest sight O’Connor could remember seeing. Carver dropped his smoking barrel and looked down at him again. “Get your sorry ass into the fight, Corporal!”
O’Connor felt the breath return to his lungs and he pushed his aching body off the ground. His carbine laid in the mud beside him and he reached down and swapped out magazines. “I’m with you, Sergeant.” He stepped beside Carver and brought his M1 to his shoulder. There were even more targets but they weren’t as close. Must be the second wave. He dropped to a knee and fired methodically into the charging mass. More fire poured into the Japanese as more GIs moved to the rear, filling the gap. The .30 caliber to the right was still hammering away and he noticed it was having deadly affect. He yelled. “We need an MG over here.”
Carver dropped beside him and between bursts said, “They’re setting up now. Give ‘em covering fire.” More GIs sank beside them and added their rifles to the fight. The Japanese stopped charging and found cover. The volume of incoming fire increased and O’Connor and Carver dove to a downed palm tree. Carver held his helmet as bullets smacked into the tree and whizzed just inches over their heads. He touched his own head and pointed at O’Connor. “You’re hit.”
O’Connor touched his head and looked at his hand. It was sticky with blood. He remembered getting hit only minutes before, but it seemed like he was remembering it in a fog, like it happened years ago, to somebody else. He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
Carver reached over and touched the wound. With his thick, gnarled fingers, he peeled the slit back and shook his head. “Looks deep.”
O’Connor pulled away from the sudden pain. It cleared his head. “Dammit! That hurts!”
Carver just grinned. “Got any pineapples?” O’Connor felt his belt for a grenade but came up empty. He shook his head. Carver said, “I’ve got one.” He yelled to the other soldiers cowering behind cover, trying to make themselves a part of the rotting jungle floor. “When the shooting stops they’re gonna come at us hard. Get grenades ready.”
He heard Lieutenant Swan yelling orders. “Get that MG up and running. They’re coming!”
O’Connor felt like he was home again. He suddenly remembered Private Duncan. The last he saw he was taking on two Japs by himself. He looked to the spot. All he could see were twisted bodies.
The firing tapered and there was a shrill whistle from the jungle. “Here they come!” yelled Swan. O’Connor looked his way and saw the lieutenant helping the MG crew set up. He was opened a can of ammunition and handed it to the loader. Geysers of dirt fountained beside him with near misses. He wanted to yell for him to get down but knew he wouldn’t hear him and probably wouldn’t listen if he did. A feeling of affection washed over him as he watched Swan. He’s turned into a leader.
Beside him, Carver pushed himself onto his knees and reared back to throw the grenade. He yelled, “Grenade,” as it left his hand. Other GIs rose up and tossed their own grenades. Carver dropped back down. He yelled, “There’s a shit ton of ‘em coming.” Seconds later the grenades went off and as one, the GIs got to firing positions and opened up.
The MG on the right sent out lethal bursts as they found the range, mowing down soldiers as they sprinted. They were everywhere. When one was cut down another two took their place. The sound was deafening as the two platoons tore into the onslaught.
They were all veterans and despite the overwhelming force charging them, they didn’t panic, but took careful aim, making each shot count. Despite the accurate fire, the Japanese were making progress. Carver’s pin slammed on an empty chamber and he dropped down, yelling, “Reloading!”
Beside him O’Connor fired over and over. His barrel was red hot. “There’s too many of ‘em.” He looked over at Lt. Swan. He was screaming into the radio, calling in close artillery support no doubt.
He slammed the radio handset down and O’Connor heard him yell. “I can’t get through!”
O’Connor gulped. They were on their own. He fired until his magazine emptied. Carver was up and firing as O’Connor reloaded. The Machine gun finally opened up, adding to the carnage. The gunner was
holding the trigger down and swinging the barrel side to side.
Swan punched his shoulder and yelled, “Short bursts! You’ll burn the barrel up!” He had to scream into the gunner’s ear, but he finally nodded and took more careful aim and reduced his rate of fire to five to ten-round bursts.
The intensity of fire stalled as more and more GIs were forced to reload. The Machine gun on the right flank was cutting down Japanese soldiers at a steady pace, stalling the following soldier’s advance. They stumbled and fell on their own dead and dying.
The Machine gun to the left suddenly stopped firing and O’Connor heard the loader scream. “We’ve got a jam!”
Lieutenant Swan yelled, “Get it fixed!” He rose up and fired his Thompson into three Japanese that suddenly burst from the close jungle.
O’Connor dropped a soldier only feet away. He poked Carver and yelled. “I’m moving to Swan, he needs help.”
Carver didn’t stop firing but grunted back. “Go!” he fired a three-round burst into the chest of an advancing soldier.
O’Connor rolled to his left staying behind cover. When he got to the end of the downed palm, he got to his feet and sprinted the last few yards. He felt the heat from near misses and dove to the ground. He slid into the side of Lt. Swan. Swan startled and started to swing his Thompson but saw who it was. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He rose up and fired and answered between shots. “Looks like you could use some help.” The thick jungle was close here, but he could see shapes dashing toward them. He took careful aim and fired. When he was out, he dropped down and fished in his ammo pouch. “Only got two more mags.” He glanced at the machine gun crew. The gunner had a metal rod jammed into the breach, trying to pry out the bent round. “Hurry up with that gun!”
Lieutenant Swan suddenly rose to his feet and screamed like a banshee. O’Connor saw his gritted teeth and the fire from his muzzle lit up his face, giving him a hellish look. O’Connor finished loading and rose up too. He was met with a Japanese soldier hurling himself at him. O’Connor had just enough time to move to the side and the soldier flew past. O’Connor followed him with his barrel and fired into his back. The first shot hit high on his shoulder, the second shot blew out his spine.
