by Len Levinson
He saw the gilded officer's insignia on Captain Shimoyama's lapels, and bent down to cut them off with his Ka-bar knife, when he noticed something gleaming in the distance. Glancing up, his eyes fell on Captain Shimoyama's samurai sword reflecting the light of the moon. Nutsy had taken samurai swords as souvenirs before, but he'd sold them because he'd had no personal connection with them.
He had a personal connection with the sword that lay in front of him. That sword had tried to kill him and nearly succeeded several times. Nutsy had won the fight just barely, and he knew it. He had defeated that sword, and now he felt he had a right to it.
The sword called out to him, and Nutsy walked toward it as if in a trance. He ached all over as he looked down at the sword. It was beautiful, with its long curving blade and handle bound with leather strips. Bending over, he picked it up and held it in his hands. Its weight felt perfect, heavy enough to do terrible damage, yet light enough to maneuver around. Japanese characters were engraved on the blade, and Nutsy didn't know it, but they were the signature of a famous sword maker in Tokyo. Nutsy wrapped his fingers around the handle and raised the sword in the air, the way the Japanese officer had. It felt right.
Nutsy turned toward the fighting, hearing rifle stock smash against rifle stock and bayonet clash against bayonet. He took a deep breath and ran toward the crowd of soldiers, seeing that they all were Japanese and their backs were to him.
Nutsy charged and swung the samurai sword downward. It connected with the top of a Japanese soldier's head and sliced him to the waist as if he were a big yellow banana. He swung to the side and caved in the ribs of another Japanese soldier. He swung to the other side and lopped off the head of the next Japanese soldier, and a fountain of blood gushed into the air. Stepping forward, Nutsy swung down again and split the head of the next Japanese soldier.
Two Japanese soldiers turned around just as Nutsy was in the middle of a sideways swing. The blade of his sword hit one Japanese soldier on the biceps and hacked off his arm. The Japanese soldier raised the stump and looked at it, his eyes bulging out of his head, then collapsed as blood drained out of his brain.
The Japanese soldier who'd been beside him thrust his rifle and bayonet toward Nutsy, but faltered and closed his eyes. He collapsed onto his knees, revealing Bannon behind him. Bannon looked like a demon from hell. He'd lost his hat and he was covered with blood. His uniform was torn to shreds and he charged toward Nutsy. A wild animal glaze shone in Bannon's eyes.
"It's me!” Nutsy screamed.
Bannon stopped and stared at Nutsy, blinking. Bannon at this point had gone completely kill crazy. He didn't even know who Nutsy was anymore, but he knew he was a friend and not a foe.
Bannon spun around and saw a wall of Japs running toward him. He snorted and screamed, jumping into the air and charging them. This took them by surprise, and before they could get set, he thrust the bayonet on the end of his rifle into the stomach of the Jap in the middle. He yanked out the bayonet and swung the rifle around, whacking a Jap upside his head. He pointed the bayonet straight ahead again and harpooned another Jap in the chest. He tugged on the rifle but couldn't pull it loose, then saw a bayonet speeding toward his heart, he leaped on the rifle that carried the bayonet, snatched it out of the Japanese soldier's hands, and smashed him in the face with the rifle stock.
Spinning around, his bayonet clashed against the bayonet on another Japanese soldier's rifle, and Bannon's bayonet broke loose from its mounting on his rifle. Bannon dropped the rifle and lunged for the Japanese soldier's throat, pressing his thumbs against the Japanese soldier's Adam's apple, when suddenly, out of nowhere, a rifle butt came crashing down on Bannon's skull.
An ordinary skull would have fractured, but Bannon had a big steel plate in his head, and it held, but the force of the blow drove Bannon to his knees. Nearly unconscious, he dived forward, tackling another Japanese soldier and bringing him down. Bannon punched the Japanese soldier in the mouth, dodged a thrust from a Japanese bayonet, rolled over, and jumped to his feet.
He had nothing in his hands to fight with, and three Japanese soldiers charged him. The nearest Japanese soldier thrust forward his rifle and bayonet, and Bannon batted the front of the rifle to the side with his forearm, kicked the Jap in the balls, and tore the rifle and bayonet out of his hands.
Another bayonet sliced toward him, and Bannon parried it to the side, delivering an uppercut with the rifle butt and connecting with the Japanese soldier's chin. The Jap's head snapped backward as he was lifted six inches into the air; then he collapsed onto his back.
Bannon wanted to run him through, but he didn't have time. He still had two Japs in his immediate vicinity, and he had to deal with them. "Yyyaaahhhhhhh!” he screamed, thrusting forward with his rifle and bayonet.
The Japanese soldier he was aiming at tried to parry the blow, but he didn't have the strength. Bannon's bayonet shot forward and went up to its hilt in the Japanese soldier's stomach. Banon pulled out the bayonet and slashed to the side to keep the third Japanese soldier off him.
That Japanese soldier jumped backward to avoid Bannon's bayonet, and Bannon went after him like a mad dog. He pushed his rifle and bayonet forward, and the Japanese soldier managed to parry it, but that didn't stop Bannon's motion. He brought his rifle butt around and smashed it into the Japanese soldier's head.
The Japanese soldier fell onto his back, and Bannon jumped with both feet onto his head, kicking and stomping until the Japanese soldier's face resembled a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.
Bannon saw a Nambu pistol lying on the ground. He picked it up and aimed it at the first Japanese soldier who appeared in his line of vision.
Click!
It was empty. He should have known it was empty; otherwise it wouldn't have been thrown onto the ground. The Japanese soldier was on top of Bannon and harpooned his rifle and bayonet forward. Bannon timed its approach and slammed down the barrel of the rifle with his left hand while whacking the Japanese soldier in the face with the Nambu pistol.
The Japanese soldier's bayonet pierced Bannon's thigh, and Bannon went insane with pain. The Japanese soldier was dazed by the blow from the Nambu pistol in Bannon's hand, and Bannon slugged him again, knocking him cold. The Japanese soldier fell onto his back, and Bannon dropped to his knees, straddling him and pistol-whipping him in the face.
Bannon would have continued hammering the Japanese soldier in the face, but more Japanese soldiers charged toward him. Wearily he got to his feet. No matter how hard he fought, no matter how many Japanese soldiers he killed, there were always more, and now all he had in his hands was an empty, bloody Nambu pistol. He threw it at the Japanese soldiers, and it bounced off the shoulder of one of them. Looking around, he saw a Japanese Arisaka rifle lying on the ground, and he scooped it up. He limped forward to do battle with the Japanese soldiers, and parried the blow from one of them, but another slammed him in the head with his rifle butt.
Bannon fell to the ground, and Terrible Tommy Shaw saw him go down. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Shaw kicked a Japanese soldier in the balls and ran toward Bannon in order to save his life.
The group of Japanese soldiers crowded around Bannon and prepared to stab him to death, when Shaw descended upon them. Shaw buried his bayonet to the hilt in the back of one Japanese soldier, slammed another in the head with his rifle butt, and kicked a third in the balls. At that point he had the undivided attention of the rest of them.
They forgot about Bannon and charged Shaw, who raised his rifle and bayonet to parry the first thrust, elbowed the next Jap in the eyeball, kicked a third Jap in the balls, and then slam!
His rifle had somehow been knocked out of his hands. Shaw reached to his belt and yanked out his Ka-bar knife. A Japanese rifle and bayonet came toward him, and he dodged out of the way just as he'd dodged punches in Madison Square Garden in New York City, punching up with his Ka-bar knife.
It was swallowed up by the soft stomach of a Japanese soldier, and Shaw pu
lled it out, slashing wildly. He was surrounded by so many Japs that he knew he had to hit one of them, and he was right. The tip of the Ka-bar knife slashed across a Japanese soldier's cheek and ripped off half of his nose. The Japanese soldier screeched and dropped his rifle, pressing the palms of his hands against his face, and Shaw slashed wildly again, cutting open the windpipe of another Jap.
Wham! A rifle butt hit Shaw on the side of his head, and Shaw dropped to his knees. But back in New York the sports writers had said that Shaw had a head like a block of concrete; Shaw wasn't knocked out, just a little shaken. He lurched forward, swinging up with his knife, and buried its blade in the groin of the Japanese soldier who'd slugged him. The Japanese soldier screeched and covered the hole with his hands, blood spouting around his fingers, and Shaw spun around ripping a Japanese soldier across the chest. He slashed the next Japanese soldier across the mouth, stabbed a third in the stomach, and kicked a fourth in the balls; then two hands clamped around his wrist.
Shaw didn't have freedom of movement anymore. He tried to twist loose, but the hands of the Japanese soldier were like a vise. He pulled the Japanese soldier off his feet, swung him through the air, and slammed him against the trunk of a tree. The Japanese soldier was knocked senseless and released Shaw's wrist.
Shaw turned around and saw four Japanese soldiers rushing toward him. He looked up and saw no branches to jump onto. The Japanese soldiers surged closer and Shaw went in to a knife-fighter's crouch. He saw that one of the Japs was bow-legged, and he thought: What the fuck. Lowering his head, he dived between the Japanese soldier's bowed legs, tumbled over, landed on his feet, spun around, and jammed his Ka-bar knife into the back of the Japanese soldier's neck, cutting through the spot where the Japanese soldier's skull was attached to his spine. The Japanese soldier gurgled blood and dropped to the ground, and Shaw grabbed the rifle and bayonet out of his hands. He thrust the bayonet into the liver of the next Japanese soldier, and by that time the other two had turned around to face him.
"Yaaaahhhhh!” screamed Shaw, charging toward them.
Shaw was covered with blood, and his bare teeth glittered in the moonlight. He frightened the two Japanese soldiers, and they hesitated, always a mistake in hand-to-hand combat. He plunged the bayonet on the end of his rifle into the chest of the first soldier, but when he pulled back, the rifle wouldn't disengage.
The last Japanese soldier recovered from his fright and slammed Shaw on the jaw with his rifle butt. Shaw felt a ferocious pain all through his head, because his jaw had been broken, and this was the second time it had been broken in hand-to-hand combat; plus it was broken in the same place.
Blood poured out of his mouth, and its salty taste made him furious. Shaw had always been the kind of boxer who fought best when he was hurt, and now he was hurt. The Japanese soldier readied his rifle and bayonet for the coup de grace, and Shaw kicked him in the balls, slammed him in the face with the butt of his rifle, and stabbed him through the chest as the Japanese soldier fell to the ground.
Shaw pulled his rifle and bayonet back and spat out a gob of blood. A bunch of Japanese soldiers moved toward him, and he heard footsteps behind him. Glancing to his rear, he saw more Japanese soldiers. They were fanning out and surrounding him, and he thought: I'd better get them before they get me. He picked out the smallest Japanese soldier he could see and let out a battle cry, drooling blood as he ran toward him.
Stark terror came over the Japanese soldier's face, and he raised his rifle and bayonet to defend himself. Shaw banged him in the face with his rifle butt and ran over him while other Japanese soldiers cut Shaw on his shoulders and sides as he passed by.
Some of the cuts were deep, and Shaw felt boiling pain. He couldn't move so quickly and the jungle spun around him. He turned to face the Japanese soldiers, and they ran toward him to finish him off. He lunged at one of them with his rifle and bayonet, but his timing was off and the Japanese soldier sidestepped easily, cracking Shaw over the head with his rifle butt.
This time Shaw went down for the long count, lying motionless on the ground. The Japanese soldiers crowded around him, angling their rifles and bayonets downward to stab him to death, when they heard the thunder of running feet. They looked up and saw three men running toward them, and the men were so bloody that it was difficult to see at first whose side they were on, but there was something foreign about the way they moved, and they all were much taller than average Japanese soldiers.
"Get the fuckers!” Butsko screamed.
Butsko had picked up a thick branch somewhere along the line and wielded it like a club. He slammed one Japanese soldier in the head, dodged the bayonet thrust of another, and slugged him in the gut; when that Japanese soldier keeled over, Butsko cracked his head open. He swung the club and hit a Japanese soldier's head with such force that it shattered like a rotten watermelon. He swung again and hit another Japanese soldier on the forearm, breaking his bones. Then Butsko kicked him in the balls.
A Japanese soldier snuck up behind Butsko, hoping to harpoon him in the back with his rifle and bayonet. As the Japanese soldier tensed himself to strike, Nutsy Gafooley came out of nowhere and swung downward with his captured samurai sword, chopping off both the soldier's arms, which fell to the ground along with his rifle. The soldier stared with disbelief at the bloody stumps where once his arms had been, but then Nutsy cut off his head, and the Japanese soldier's worries were over.
Nutsy loved his new weapon, and found that it was easy to use. He swung to the side and cut off the leg of a Japanese soldier, causing him to fall onto his face; then Nutsy swung at his back, chopping his spine in two. Nutsy spun around and swung at a Japanese soldier's stomach, slicing up his intestines, making him keel over, and as Nutsy raised his samurai sword to whack him in the head, a blood-soaked bayonet was thrust to the hilt into Nutsy's back.
Nutsy was overcome with pain and disorientation. He didn't know where he was or what had happened to him. He dropped the samurai sword, took a step, and fell onto his face. The Japanese soldier who'd stabbed him made the mistake of looking down at his handiwork, and at that moment Longtree leaped over Nutsy's body and delivered an uppercut with the butt of his rifle to the jaw of the Japanese soldier, whose head snapped back as he fell down. Longtree stood over the Japanese soldier and prepared to stab him, when he noticed a Japanese bayonet streaking toward him. Longtree jumped back to get out of the way, but the bayonet cut open his right biceps to the bone, and Longtree's hand went numb. He lost his grip on his rifle, and the Japanese soldier clobbered him in the face with his rifle butt. Longtree's skull was fractured and he dropped to the ground.
The Japanese soldier aimed his rifle and bayonet at Longtree and pushed down, when something caught his eye. It was Bannon's bayonet, and it pierced the Japanese soldier's neck, coming out the far side. The Japanese soldier gurgled blood, and Bannon pulled out his bayonet.
It was Bannon and Butsko now, fighting back to back, and it looked like the end was in sight. They were surrounded by forty Japanese soldiers, but only a small percentage of Japanese soldiers could get within actual striking distance. Butsko slammed Japanese soldiers in the head with his club. Bannon stabbed them with his rifle and bayonet and banged them with the butt of his rifle. A Japanese soldier lunged forward with his rifle and bayonet, and Bannon parried the blow, but Bannon was tired and not as strong as he'd been before. The Japanese bayonet cut open his cheek, sliced across his scalp, and jabbed into thin air dripping blood, and Bannon hammered the Jap in the mouth with his rifle butt.
Wild with pain, Bannon stepped forward to run the Jap through, imprudently opening his back to attack, and two Japanese soldiers thrust their rifles and bayonets forward. Both of them stabbed Bannon in the back, and Bannon dropped to his knees, coughing blood. The Japanese soldiers drew back to stab him again, when Butsko spun around and with a backhand swing caught one of them on the side of his head, knocking him cold. Then, with a frontal swing, Butsko struck the next Japanese soldier square o
n the face, flattening his nose and busting cheekbones and jaw.
The Japanese soldiers collapsed at Butsko's feet, and he stepped over them, smashing a Japanese soldier on top of his head. Blood squirted out of the Japanese soldier's ears and nose. He slammed another Japanese soldier on the shoulder, separating bones and cartilage from the soldier's torso; whacked the next Japanese soldier on the biceps, breaking his arm; and smacked the third Japanese soldier in the neck, launching his head into air.
"You fucking bastards!” Butsko screamed as he charged forward, his big combat boots pounding on the ground. Japanese soldiers lashed out at Butsko with their bayonets, cutting his arms and legs, sticking him in the stomach, but that didn't stop him. He raised his club high in the air and brought it down with all the strength of his mighty body on a Japanese soldier, whose head was squashed flat on his shoulders, the force of the blow hurling him to his knees.
Butsko swung sideways at the other soldier's head, and his power was so great that it caused the soldier's head to cave in, separating the top of his skull from the rest of his cranium. The top of his skull went flying through the air like an inverted bowl of stew.
Butsko spun around and realized he was the last GI left. He was wounded and bleeding but more dangerous than ever. He looked for a place to make his last stand, because he knew the time had come for him to die. All he wanted was something to protect his back, so that he could kill as many Japs as he could before they got him.
He saw the big boulder behind the hole and said to himself: That's it. Japanese soldiers surrounded him, and Butsko beat a path through them, running toward the boulder, turning around, and pressing his back against it.
"Come on and get me, you fucking bastards!” he hollered, raising his bloody club in his bloody right hand. "Come on!”
