by Chris Glatte
Clay hurled another bale and his father guided it into place and exclaimed, “That one’s up, now do the next.” Robert nodded and got back to work.
Tarkington shook his head, coming back to the Luzon jungle. He smacked Henry’s arm. “I’m gonna check on the others.”
Henry lifted his head slightly and muttered, “Careful. Gonna be slick as snot.”
Tarkington stared into the gloom, but couldn’t see more than a few feet. He took a deep breath and reconsidered his decision. He looked up through the thin cover and saw skittering clouds. The dense layer was breaking up and he could see flashes of stars. “Clearing up,” he whispered. “I’ll wait a few minutes.”
The sky cleared more and more until it was nearly filled with stars. Without noticing it happening, he could see much farther down the ridge. He leaned forward, trying to see any movement which might give away the Japanese on the beach, but there was nothing but jungle and dripping vegetation.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone lightly touched his arm. He clutched his Thompson but loosened his grip when he saw the grinning face of one of the Filipino scouts. “Is that you, Eduardo?”
The Filipino’s grin filled his entire face and he nodded and whispered, “Come. Sergeant talk to you.”
Tarkington nodded and tapped Henry, who had seen and heard the exchange and gave a curt nod, then ducked his head back inside his poncho.
It took all of Tarkington’s skill and strength to keep from slipping and sliding off the edge of the ridge, but he finally made it to Staff Sergeant Flynn. Tarkington cuffed Eduardo’s shoulder in admiration, the man wasn’t even sweating. Eduardo grinned not understanding why the big American was so out of breath.
Sergeant Flynn leaned in and whispered. “Nunez and Cesar saw Jap boats near the beach. Looks like they’re reinforcing their position.”
Tarkington strained to see, but couldn’t see the water, let alone the beach. “I can’t see a damned thing.”
Flynn shook his head, “Neither can I, but they sure as shit can. They were down the hill during the rainstorm; saw them when it cleared up.”
“How many?” Tarkington asked.
Flynn held up four fingers. “That means at least another two hundred soldiers, probably more.”
Tarkington had his breathing under control but gulped against a still dry throat. “What’s the plan?”
“We’ve gotta get word back to Captain Glister. Maybe they can shell the beach before they get dug in.”
Tarkington exhaled a long breath. “Sure be nice if we still had a Navy out there somewhere. A good pasting from a passing battleship would go a long way.”
Flynn nodded. “Maybe Glister can notify those PT boats. At least warn them to keep an eye out.” Flynn adjusted his rifle strap and continued. “Send Winkleman back up the hill with Cesar. Relay the message and get back here as quick as they can.”
Tarkington frowned. “It’s hard enough getting down here when it was dry; the ground’s like walking on ice.”
Even in the dim light put off by the stars, Tarkington could see Flynn’s scowl. “Tough shit. Pass the word, Tark.”
Lieutenant Kelly and the crew of PT-34 were busy. Since finding and attacking the Japanese barges the night before, every available boat was on patrol. After the attack the crew had been keyed up and unable to get any sleep. It was difficult to sleep in the stifling tropical heat on a normal day, but after the attack it was nearly impossible. Now the sailors were nearing the end of an uneventful night of patrolling and were exhausted.
They’d weathered the torrential downpour in a sheltered cove but, despite the overhanging foliage they’d tucked beneath, every sailor got soaked. When it finally subsided, they pulled from the cove and motored slowly towards home.
Lt. Kelly was having trouble keeping his eyes open as he gripped the rails. The rain squall came with moderate wind, but now it was as calm as he’d ever seen it. The China Sea’s water was perfectly flat and glassy. The only wind came from the gentle three knots from the engine.
The radio crackled to life and Radioman Gutteriez jolted from his near-stupor and reached for the receiver, nearly dropping it. He finally got a handle on it and answered the call.
Lt. Kelly listened intently. The patrol had been tense, but completely uneventful. There was confusion as to where the Japanese force from the night before had gone. He’d heard reports of contact at Longo Point, as well as Anyasan Point further north, but nothing concrete.
Gutteriez, only yards away, signaled the lieutenant to come. Kelly was already moving that way and grabbed the mic and headphones with a questioning look to his radioman, who only shrugged. “This is thirty-four, six. Go ahead.”
He listened to the message with growing concern. He finally nodded and signed off. “Understood. Over.” He handed the set back to Gutteriez, his eyes worried. “Ensign Hayes.”
Hayes was nearby watching his superior officer. “Yes sir.”
“The Japs are confirmed at Longo Point. There’s been a sighting of four barges offloading more Japs. Apparently, it was done during that rainstorm.” He shook his head, “Must’ve slipped right past us.” It was a sobering thought. “Bring the men to battle stations. Longo’s another couple of miles south. The barges might still be south of us, but they’ve most likely already passed. Command wants us to hit the Japs from the sea before they have time to dig in.”
Ensign Hayes’s voice cracked with barely-contained excitement. “Yes, sir. Battle stations, aye.”
Lieutenant Kelly watched his eager ensign do his bidding and shook his head. He’d performed well during the engagement the night before. Back at base Hayes retold every aspect of the attack until Kelly told him to shut his mouth so he could get some sleep.
Hayes hadn’t slept a wink in over twenty-four hours. Kelly noticed his eyes drooping during the rainstorm, but now he was like a rejuvenated dynamo and he hoped he didn’t trip and fall over the side in his enthusiasm.
Kelly increased the throttles and the sleek PT boat went onto a smooth plane, heading toward Longo Point and combat. His men pulled down their helmets and leaned into their guns, keeping sharp eyes out for enemy barges. Kelly looked at the luminescent dials on his watch. He estimated they’d get to their destination with a couple of hours of darkness left. He was glad for it. He didn’t relish engaging a strong enemy force in broad daylight.
Since sending Cesar and Winkleman up the hill three hours before, Tarkington and the GIs of the 2nd squad could hear enemy activity on the beach. Tarkington leaned toward Henry. “Sound like they’re getting ready for an assault to you?”
Henry shrugged. He’d pulled his poncho off and sat with his back against the tree trunk, listening. “Whatever they’re doing, they don’t care who hears it.”
Tarkington strained to read his watch-face. “It’ll be light in a couple of hours.” He looked up the hill, “What’s taking Wink so long?” He got as comfortable as he could and pulled his helmet over his eyes. “I’m gonna try for some sleep.” Henry mumbled something unintelligible.
What seemed like an instant later, but was actually a full hour, the night exploded in sound and light. Tarkington jolted awake and rolled onto his belly, instinctively pulling his Thompson to his shoulder and aiming down the slope.
Through the trees, he could see beams of light lancing from the sea. The thumping of heavy machine guns filled the thick, muggy air. “What the hell,” he stammered trying to make sense of the situation. His fuddled mind finally focused, “Attack from the sea.”
Henry was on his belly with his rifle ready. He nodded, “One of them PT boats?” He glanced up, hearing a new sound. “Mortars.”
The whistling sound of shells overhead made Tarkington duck his head. For a moment he thought they’d land on their position, until he saw the explosive flashes through the trees. The tracer fire from the sea combined with the mortars from the ridge lit up the night and filled the beach with flying steel. One of the mortar shells erupted
high in the sky and burned brightly beneath a small white parachute. The flare turned night to day and cast crazy shadows through the jungle.
Tarkington grinned, “Guess Wink got the word out.” The tracer fire from the sea continued and Tarkington could see occasional muzzle flashes through the jungle. “Looks like the PT boat’s in the bay. Ballsy skipper getting that close.”
The intense fire storm continued for another two minutes then stopped as though someone had hit a switch. The flare drifted lazily to ground and extinguished, bringing the world back to darkness. The fading sound of a powerful engine moving away told Tarkington that the PT boat was retreating. There were a few desperate rifle shots, mixed with yells and screams from the beach. Tarkington blew out a low whistle. “Only lasted a couple minutes, but they took a beating.”
Henry nodded, “Hope so.”
Light from tiny fires filtered through the jungle. Tarkington glanced at his watch. “Gonna be light soon.” He pulled his feet beneath him. “I’m gonna go check in with Flynn.” Henry nodded and Tarkington carefully moved up-slope.
When he found Staff Sergeant Flynn he was surprised to see Cesar and Winkleman huddled around him, speaking in hushed tones. Flynn saw Tarkington and waved him close. “You’ll want to hear this, Tark.”
He crouched beside them and Winkleman gave him a nod and filled him in. “Captain Glister thinks the Japs are gonna attack at first light. After yesterday, he thinks they’re gonna try to sneak close rather than attempt the full-frontal, which didn’t work out so well for ‘em.” He gave a quick grin, quickly replaced with a grim scowl. He held up a large handheld radio. “Wants us to sneak close and call in mortar rounds on concentrations.” He let that sink in. “Hopes to break up their attack long enough for armor to arrive.”
Tarkington scowled. “How close? It’s a sheer cliff face to the beach.”
Flynn pointed at the three eager Filipinos “They’ll lead team two to the beach. You’ll be plenty close enough and you’ll have good line of sight to the ridge for the radio.”
Tarkington’s mouth went dry as he digested the assignment which could very well get him killed. Seconds passed as he pictured the scenario. Flynn was about to speak, but Tarkington spoke first. “I’ll lead it, but I don’t want the entire team. I’ll take Cesar, Eduardo and Wink.”
Flynn said, “You’ll want the team’s firepower if you’re discovered.”
Tarkington shook his head. “If we’re discovered we’d need the entire company.” He stared at Flynn, who finally nodded. “Besides, we’ll have less chance of discovery with just the four of us. Two more guys won’t make much of a difference in a firefight.”
Flynn nodded. “Take Raker instead of Winkleman. He needs a rest.” Winkleman was about to protest but Flynn cut him off. “That’s an order.”
Tarkington nodded, “Raker’s a good scout. I’d like to leave before it gets light.”
Flynn took the radio from Winkleman and handed it to Tarkington. “These things are finicky out here, but this one has new batteries and has been tested.” Tarkington took it and nodded. “Good luck, Tark and don’t do anything stupid.”
Tarkington nodded and grinned. “I’m sitting in the dark on a knife-ridge above a beach filled with pissed-off Japs… think that ship’s sailed, Sarge.”
8
Tarkington felt like a bumbling fool. Compared to the Filipinos and Raker, he was having the most trouble keeping quiet. The Filipinos moved like ghosts and Raker was almost as quiet. Tarkington realized he didn’t know much about Raker; just that he was from somewhere in Washington state. He was the quiet type but always did his job. A solid soldier. Tarkington made a mental note to get to know more about him. If I’m alive by then.
They followed a barely-perceptible trail down the slope. The ridge wasn’t as wide as where they’d spent most of the night, but it wasn’t a knife-edge like the top.
Tarkington moved carefully, making sure of each step. A slip here and he’d tumble all the way to the beach. If he survived the fall - which would take a miracle - the Japanese would certainly put him out of his misery. The strain made him overheat and sweat was dripping off his nose.
Finally he saw the three men crouched and stopped. He carefully came up behind Raker and lightly touched his shoulder, signaling that he was with them. Raker gave a slight nod and continued, concentrating his attention forward.
Tarkington took in the surroundings. They’d descended at least six-hundred feet. He thought he could hear the quiet sound of waves lapping against the shoreline. It was still dark, but the starlight was enough to illuminate the beach off to the right. It still seemed far away, but he knew the darkness could play tricks. He’d have to be even quieter.
The lead Filipino, Eduardo, turned his way and in the dim light. Tarkington saw him give a thumbs-up and a broad smile. Tarkington gave a thumbs-up back. Eduardo suddenly disappeared. At first Tarkington thought he’d laid down, but when he strained to see him, he wasn’t there. What the hell?
Cesar moved forward, then disappeared in the same spot. Raker turned to Tarkington and whispered, “Tunnel.” Suddenly it all made sense. Tarkington realized he’d been holding his breath. He relaxed and stayed close to Raker’s back as he moved forward.
After a few feet, Raker stopped and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He sat on his butt and dangled his legs into the black abyss of a gaping hole. He inched forward then spread his hands out and shimmied his way into the earth. He was soon out of sight.
Tarkington shook his head and muttered as he slung his Thompson, “Didn’t sign up for this shit.” He sat on the edge and tried to see into the hole. It was black and he couldn’t see his boots, let alone the bottom.
Every fiber of his being protested, but he forced himself to push forward until he felt his right foot touch a solid piece of ground. He lowered himself, feeling the sides, and found a solid handhold. It was an old root from one of the trees that held stubbornly to the side of the cliff. His left foot found a foothold lower down and his confidence grew.
He could hear Raker’s clothing rubbing against the walls, but aside from that, the tunnel was completely silent and utterly black. He wondered if there was a viper curled up down here. He wouldn’t know until he felt the bite. He shook his head and scolded himself, Knock it off Tark.
He finally got to the bottom. He looked up but the tunnel entrance wasn’t visible. There was a light breeze full of sea-smells coming from his right. He reached his hand out and felt the cold dirt of the tunnel only inches away. He skimmed his hand along toward the breeze until he found the opening which would hopefully lead him out. It was low and he had to get on his belly to fit.
He felt his back hit the top and realized there was no way he’d fit with his Thompson on his back. He felt panic welling in his chest, but he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pushed himself back. He unslung his Thompson and went back on his belly, flattening himself with his arms extended in front. He pushed forward, machine gun first. His back scraped the top, but he felt the hole opening up as he pushed further.
Once his head cleared the initial low ceiling, the tunnel opened up a little. He lifted his helmeted head until it touched the ceiling. He breathed a sigh of relief. The first part seemed to be the lowest section. He slithered forward another twenty feet before he saw the welcome sight of Raker’s face peering back at him. Raker smiled and whispered, “This is the end.”
Tarkington pulled himself out of the tunnel and into the fresh air. The sound of lapping waves, insects, and the feeling of limitless space around him, was a relief. He looked back at the entrance, it was nearly invisible. Eduardo reached up and pulled a large, leafy branch hanging from above. The entrance disappeared completely and Tarkington doubted he’d be able to find it again without the Filipino’s help.
Eduardo and Cesar led the GIs along the edge of the cliff, using rock outcroppings as cover, until they were thirty yards from the tunnel. They wedged themselves in among a group of boulders whi
ch looked as though they’d sloughed off the side of the cliff some time in the past millennia.
Tarkington put his back against a mossy boulder and tried to get control of his breathing. The first hint of the coming dawn lightened the sky and the stars faded as though they’d never been there. He gripped his Thompson tighter when he heard the unmistakable sound of Japanese voices.
He looked toward Eduardo, who was peering through the crack made by two boulders leaning against each other. Tarkington scooted his way across the sandy ground and Eduardo pulled back. Tarkington peered through and saw dark shapes moving everywhere. He took in a sharp breath, surprised how close they were.
At first, he didn’t understand what they were doing. He watched for a tense minute, then pulled back and saw Raker staring at him. Tarkington whispered, “They’re lining up bodies.” Raker nodded.
Tarkington carefully pulled off his ruck and pulled out the half-moon-shaped radio. He put his back against the boulder and studied the device. He’d used them before and he’d been given another review before leaving the ambush spot, but the last thing he wanted to do was alert the Japanese with a blast of static. He made sure all the dials were correct then turned it on. He pressed the radio to his face and ear and gently pushed the send button, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “Six in position. Over.”
He pressed it hard to his ear hoping to dampen the response. He heard a slight click then a tinny voice. “One, understand. Six in position. Standing by. Over.”
Tarkington’s relief was plain on his face. U.S. Army radios didn’t always work well in this part of the world due to the humid, tropical conditions and poor design. He hated to think their harrowing journey to this point was all for nothing.
Behind them came an unexpected sound, an engine. They turned toward the bay. Tarkington thought it was the dawn playing tricks on them until he saw the white wake of an approaching boat. The Japanese heard it at the same time and there was a flurry of excited voices. Tarkington went flat on his belly, realizing if it was the PT boat returning, they’d be caught in the crossfire. There were a few boulders behind them, but not enough to stop a full onslaught.
