Tark's Ticks
Page 8
Raker leaned over and whispered, “Jap barge.”
Tarkington nodded, seeing the outline for what it was. “They’ll walk right past us.”
Nobody moved as Japanese infantry from the beach trotted past their position and helped offload another forty soldiers and their gear. More soldiers shuffled by carrying their dead. Tarkington assumed they were victims of the attack earlier in the night. Everyone was flat on their stomachs, pressed as close to the base of the boulders as they could get. Tarkington had his Thompson in his right hand, ready to pull it to his shoulder if they were discovered. The only thing keeping them safe was the quickly-fading darkness. In another fifteen minutes they’d be impossible to miss.
The Japanese worked fast, running up the beach with supplies. The forty fresh soldiers sprinted up the beach and out of sight, their hushed voices fading the further away they got. The barge was still sitting there, parked on the sand with its engine idling. Tarkington willed them to push off and leave before the sun rose. As if in answer, a sailor jumped off the bow and pushed and heaved until the barge moved off the sand. The sailor running the motor increased the throttle and clunked it into gear, but instead of speeding away the engine coughed and died. There was a flurry of Japanese voices. The sailor who’d just jumped into the bow, leaped back out and held the bow. The sailor tried to restart the engine over and over but it only coughed and sputtered.
Tarkington looked at the other’s faces. The light was growing every second and he could see their fear. He had to do something or they’d be discovered. He looked around for more cover, but realized any large movements would be noticed immediately and besides, there was no place to go. He pulled the radio to his ear, clicked the button and whispered, “Send HE round now. I’ll adjust. Don’t respond. Over.”
A moment passed and he wondered if they’d left the radio unmonitored, but then he heard the faint click of acknowledgment. The moments slipped past glacially slowly before he finally heard the whistling of a mortar shell. The Japanese heard it too and there was yelling. The four sailors still on the barge looked up at the yelling and leaped into the shallow water to hunker beside the barge.
The high explosive shell landed in the center of the beach, scattering sand and shrapnel in every direction. Tarkington didn’t dare turn around. He guessed the range and keyed the mic, “Add two-hundred.” He heard the click and hoped he wasn’t calling the next round onto his head.
There was a whistling and the next round landed in the water, sixty feet to the right of the barge. “Left seventy.” Another click. The others hunkered lower, Raker pulling his helmet tight over his head.
The whistling round exploded to the left of the barge, rocking and sprinkling it with shrapnel and water. A sailor hunkered on that side was thrown into the side of the barge, then disappeared into the shallow water. “Send two more.”
The remaining sailors heard the incoming rounds and abandoned their doomed boat, running away from the barge and away from Tarkington’s hideout. The two rounds exploded beside it and tore the wood and steel planks from the side. The sailors dove for cover on the far side of the bay, well out of view.
Sea water fell over their position and for an instant it was as though they were caught in another tropical storm. Raker put his hand on Tarkington’s shoulder and whispered, “Good thinking, Sarge.”
“Let’s hope they don’t come searching for their man.”
Eduardo lifted his head and peered through the crack, then turned and pointed up the beach. “Japs move,” he uttered.
Tarkington crawled forward and looked. The Japanese were at the tree-line and moving into the ravine. Just like Captain Glister figured, they weren’t charging, but sneaking. Tarkington got on the radio. “Japs moving up canyon. Down five-hundred from last shot. Over.”
There was another click in response and seconds later the arcing of an 81mm mortar shell. Tarkington watched it explode among the gathering troops. Men were flung sideways, their bodies lit up with the flash. “That’s it. Fire for effect.” More shells arced over and slammed into the sparse jungle.
Through the carnage, Tarkington saw an officer stand and raise his sword, it glowed in the morning light. He heard him scream an order and there was an immediate surge of Japanese soldiers getting to their feet and sprinting forward. Mortar shells continued to fall, shredding them, but soon the soldiers were beyond the barrage. Raker had his Springfield against his shoulder, the barrel resting in the notch of a boulder. He had the officer in his sights. He caressed the trigger, wanting to fire, but knowing it was a bad idea. He stroked the cool metal trigger, imagining himself pulling the trigger, killing the Jap officer and claiming his Samurai sword for himself. Suddenly the rifle barked and kicked into Raker’s shoulder. He was as surprised as the rest of them. The bullet barely missed the officer’s left shoulder, it pulped the side of a palm tree only feet in front of him.
Tarkington had just called in another adjustment when he heard the rifle shot. He glared at Raker who looked at him with wide, panicked eyes. He stammered, “I’m sorry. I - I didn’t mean to….”
Bullets whizzed over their heads and caromed off the rocks with zinging ricochet sounds. Tarkington didn’t know where they were coming from until Cesar pointed toward the sailors across the beach. Tarkington saw the four sailors aiming their burp guns and firing from behind a clump of rocks. Bullets slammed into the ground, spraying them with wet sand. Raker spun his rifle to the threat and fired. Tarkington saw the sailors dive for cover as the bullets showered them with rock fragments.
“We’ve gotta get outta here, now.” He lifted his Thompson to his shoulder, aimed and fired at the cowering sailors. After a five-round burst he yelled, “Go, I’ll cover you.”
Eduardo and Cesar didn’t need to be told twice, but Raker hesitated. “I’ll stay, you…”
Tarkington cursed him, “Get the fuck outta here now!” He fired another volley and the rocks seemed to sparkle with the heavy impacts of the .45 caliber bullets. Raker lunged after the Filipinos and Tarkington dropped down, pulled a fresh magazine and swapped. Bullets smacked into the front of the rocks and Tarkington peered through the crack at the main Japanese force. Most of the attackers were out of sight, but there was a small unit of six or seven soldiers sprinting his way along the edge of the cliff, with more men behind providing covering fire. “Shit,” he cursed. He poked the barrel through the gap and fired a quick ten-round burst, then got to his feet and took off after Raker.
He ran as hard as he could while remaining crouched, expecting a bullet in the back any second. He saw Raker and the Filipinos firing in both directions. He dove over the rocks they were using for cover, rolled onto his shoulder and slid into another rock which gouged his shoulder and took his breath away. He rolled to his back, gasping for air.
Raker fired through the rest of his five-round clip and reloaded. He saw Tarkington struggling on the ground and he went to his side. “You hit? Where you hit?”
Tarkington shook his head, his eyes bulging and his mouth gasping like a fish on the bottom of a boat. Finally, his breath came back and he was able to speak. “Breath. Lost my wind.”
Relief flooded Raker’s face and he pulled Tarkington to his knees and shoved him toward the cliff. “The tunnel’s right there. Get up there quick, we’ll hold ‘em off.” The thought of the tight tunnel wasn’t nearly as scary as it had been before the bullets started flying. Tarkington was about to protest but Raker cut him off, “You’re the slowest, you go first.”
The words stung, but he knew his scout was right. He nodded and ran to the wall and pulled the heavy shrub aside, exposing the entrance. He didn’t hesitate, but thrust into the tunnel and shimmied back and forth with his Thompson in front of him.
After being in the dawn light, the tunnel seemed even darker. He pushed forward, feeling his way, trying to remember the slight turns. He lifted his head to look behind, and his helmet clanged into the rock ceiling. “Shit,” he cursed and kept pushing.
Eduardo answered, “Raker on beach, holding back Japs.” Despite the firefight, he sounded as though he were out on a relaxing hike.
Tarkington found the handholds and footholds and continued upward steadily, until he finally saw light streaming from above. He pushed himself into the daylight and gave his surroundings a quick look. The sound of battle up the canyon and from the bottom of the cliff made him duck.
He moved to the side of the cliff and looked down. He couldn’t see Raker but he could see glimpses of Japanese sailors sprinting across the wet sand with their burp guns blazing. The Japanese infantry was also too close to the cliff for him to see. He raised his Thompson and was about to fire when Eduardo popped up from the tunnel, put his hand on his shoulder and shook his head. “They see us, they kill us.” He pointed up the hill and Tarkington nodded.
The cover was sparse. If they were spotted they’d be easy targets against the backdrop of the sky. He clutched where his grenades were usually attached to his harness, forgetting that he’d left them behind to lighten his load. Hurling one down the slope would be too dangerous anyway - he might hit Raker.
Cesar was the next man out of the tunnel, springing out like he’d been shot from a cannon. “Where’s Raker?” Tarkington asked.
Cesar nodded and pointed into the blackness, “Close by,” he said.
Several nervous seconds later, Raker’s helmeted head emerged and he stepped out of the hole and quickly away from the opening. Tarkington leaned over to look but Raker pushed him back and aimed his rifle into the hole and fired. The muzzle flash lit up the hole, and he pulled his head back. “Sumbitch was right on my tail. Think I got him, but there’ll be more.” He leaned over again and fired the rest of his clip into the blackness, working the bolt as quickly as his hands would move.
Tarkington pointed at the grenade dangling from Raker’s harness. “Send your pineapple down there. That’ll stop the hole up and kill anyone following.”
Raker’s eyes widened and he slung his rifle. “Can’t believe I forgot about that. Good idea, Tark. I mean, Sergeant.”, he corrected.
Tarkington still wasn’t used to being called sergeant so didn’t blame him for the slip. Tarkington leaned forward while Raker worked to release the grenade and fired two rounds then pulled back. “Hurry.”
Raker finally got the line unwound from the grenade. He’d tied it down so it wouldn’t move on his chest and make noise during the mission. He pulled the pin, released the lever and counted to two, then threw it down the hole hard. The GIs stepped back and held their helmets. There was a dull thump followed with the expulsion of dirt, dust and smoke from the hole. It looked like they’d triggered a mini-volcano.
They waited by the side of the hole until the smoke dissipated enough to look in without becoming asphyxiated. Tarkington held his muzzle above the abyss and leaned forward, trying to see what effect the grenade caused. He put his muzzle into the smoking, sulfurous blackness and fired. The momentary muzzle flash lit it up. “Looks at least partially caved in. They ain’t getting through there any time soon.”
An explosion from the ridge brought their attention back to the battle still raging in the ravine. Cesar clutched Tarkington’s arm. “Jap tanks.”
Tarkington grinned and shook his head. “Those are ours. The Stuarts we’ve been hearing about. Japs’ll have a tough time getting through those.” He motioned forward, “Come on, let’s get back to our lines. I’m sick of having my ass hanging in the wind.”
9
When they were halfway back to the ambush sight someone in front called out, “Brooklyn.”
In the lead, Eduardo dropped into a crouch and Tarkington quickly put his hand to his mouth and finished the challenge phrase, “Dodgers.”
Private First-Class Roscoe stepped from behind a tree and grinned. In his deep baritone voice he asked, “What took you so long? Sergeant Flynn sent us to find you, see if you’re still alive.”
Tarkington smiled and stepped beside him, noticing four other GIs from the 2nd squad crouched in the underbrush. “So nice to be missed.” The sound of a Browning machine gun firing into the ravine made them all duck. “We had a close scrape, but no injuries. Where’s the rest of the squad?”
“Flynn got orders to return to the main line but he didn’t want to leave without knowing your whereabouts. He’s probably nearly back by now.”
Tarkington grimaced, “Why didn’t they just use the radio?”
Roscoe shrugged, “Heard him talking with the messenger they sent, told Flynn they’d lost contact.”
Tarkington huffed, “Lost contact…?” He pulled his ruck off and pulled out the radio. It had a clean hole on one side and shredded and torn metal on the other. He held it up and shook it, “Dammit. I don’t remember that happening.” Raker put his finger through the hole in the canvas ruck. “Another inch or two and we’d be hauling your body out right now.”
Tarkington shook his head but pushed the close call from his mind. “Let’s get outta here. Eduardo and Cesar will lead the way.”
When they were still a couple of hundred yards from the top of the ridge, navigating the knife-ridge section, they could see fighting going on in the ravine below. They were too far away to be in danger, but Tarkington thought it would be a good place to put an artillery observer with a radio. From this far away, the battle seemed neat and clean, but he knew it was anything but.
The Japanese had been fought to a standstill. They’d made more progress than they had the day before, but it was obvious the four Stuart tanks had stopped them dead in their tracks. There were small, smoking craters from the 37mm cannon shots. Every once in a while, one of the Stuarts, which looked like toys from here, would spout flame and smoke from their barrels and another tiny explosion would erupt among the attackers. “Japs are taking a beating,” exclaimed Raker.
Tarkington nodded, “Back this far from their lines they don’t have air or artillery support. Give ‘em back some of what they’ve been dishing out to us the last coupla months.”
The ridge became less sheer and angled back toward the ravine. Eduardo led them off the trail to keep them out of sight of the Japanese. It made the uphill slog slower but safer. Finally they reached the saddle of the ridge and met with friendly forces soon after.
Tarkington sent Raker and the Filipinos off to find food and water while he sought out the rest of his squad along with Roscoe and the others. He saw the back of Staff Sergeant Flynn. He was talking with Lieutenant Smoker. Tarkington came up behind them and snapped, “Sergeant Tarkington and the second squad reporting for duty, sir.”
Both Flynn and Smoker turned and grinned. Smoker slapped Tarkington’s back. “Good to see you, Tark. What the hell happened? You dropped off the damned world. Thought you guys had bought the farm.”
Tarkington shook his head. “Radio took a round but that was the only casualty, sir.”
“Sergeant, that was some damned fine work.”
Smoker looked around for Raker and the Filipinos. “I sent them to find some chow and refill their water. They’ll be along shortly.” He shook his head and looked at his muddy boots. “I sure as hell couldn’t have done it without them.” He looked Smoker in the eye, “They’re top notch. When the shit hit the fan, they kept their cool. It’s the only way we survived, sir.” He pursed his lips, nodded and gestured down the hill. “Well, it paid off. The Japs were delayed long enough to get those Stuarts in place, otherwise we woulda had a hell of a time containing them. Those tanks can put out a hell of a lot of lead. Stopped ‘em cold.” Tarkington could see the back-end of one of the metal beasts. It was dug into the soft dirt, angled down. White smoke wafted slowly from the barrel and indeed
the entire thing seemed to glow with heat and smoke. “Their attack’s stalled. I think they’re finished.”
Sergeant Flynn asked, “Any word on the other landings, sir?”
Smoker saw Tarkington’s surprised expression. He pointed north. “They tried the same thing further north in two other spots that we know of so far. This seems to be the biggest concentration though.” He shook his head, “Besides that, I haven’t heard anything else.”
There hadn’t been a rifle shot for a while, so they all turned when they heard the bark of a Springfield. Flynn asked, “We staying here?”
Lt. Smoker nodded, “For the time being. The captain wants to clean out this section for good.”
Flynn said, “You mean moving to the beach?”
Smoker nodded. “That’s the only way to be sure.” He slapped Flynn’s shoulder, “But not yet. Get some food and rest. Your squad’s beat.”
Flynn and Tarkington nodded and walked back up the hill away from the festering battlefield. They met up with the rest of 2nd squad relaxing among crates of ammunition that had made the trip from Mariveles with them.
Tarkington saw Henry sitting, chewing a blade of grass and leaning against a crate labeled ’81mm.’ He slid in beside him and Henry moved over to accommodate him. Henry drawled, “Sounds like you caught hell last night.”
Tarkington leaned his head against the crate and closed his eyes. “Yeah. Got pretty hairy.”
The silence lingered as images of charging Japanese soldiers filled Tarkington’s mind. It seemed like the war had been going on forever, like there’d never been anything before. He desperately wanted to sleep but knew it wouldn’t happen. “Tell me about that Grandma of yours.”