The Long Patrol: World War II Novel

by Chris Glatte

  Men started hearing him and started reacting. At first they wobbled and trotted, but as their heads cleared and the adrenalin kicked in they started running. “Back to your holes, back to your holes!”

  The eyes of the men running past him weren’t human; they were scared animals. If he didn’t reign them in they’d run all the way back to Australia. He grabbed a man running past and threw him to the ground, yelling in his face. “Covering fire!” Childers popped up and laid a long burst towards the charging Japanese. He didn’t know if he hit anything, but he slowed them down.

  The man he’d pulled down was still wide-eyed, but the crazy was being replaced by the eyes of a soldier. He put his M1 to his shoulder and emptied his clip into the Japs. Soon other men were joining in, dropping behind cover to shoot the screaming Japanese, then falling back to another position. Most of the men were still panicked, but the Japs weren’t advancing as fast now that they were taking casualties.

  Childers stayed with the soldier covering each other and moving back, shooting, moving. The line of enemy soldiers was close. Childers aimed from behind a big palm and was surprised to see a Japanese soldier only yards away coming straight for him, bayonet leading. He pulled the trigger and five forty five caliber bullets slammed the soldier backwards into another charging soldier. This one scrambled over his fallen comrade and lunged. Childers leaned back behind the tree and watched the bayonet and rifle glance off it harmlessly. As the soldiers’ momentum moved him past the tree, Childers backstroked him with the butt of his Thompson. The soldier’s head crumpled like an overripe melon, sending his eyes squirting from his skull.

  Another screaming Japanese soldier was on him. Childers only had time to turn his head enough to see that he’d take the bayonet in his gut. He braced for the impact, but it never came. The soldier covering him was standing in front of him pumping rounds into the Japanese soldier’s body. Childers slammed another magazine in and primed his weapon. There were targets everywhere. He knew he would die soon, like so many of his men had today, but he was done running. He’d die in place beside this soldier.

  He chose his targets, firing in short bursts to preserve ammo. He’d take as many of the bastards with him as he could. The M1 of the soldier beside him pinged and he yelled, “Last clip, Sir.”

  Childers shot at a running man who disappeared behind a downed log. He sighted on another soldier to his left who was ramming his bloody bayonet repeatedly into one of his men. He pulled the trigger sending him to hell. Another Jap in the open, running hard, he led him slightly and pulled the trigger. Only one shot and the pin slammed against an empty chamber. He reached to his ammo belt, but he knew he was out of ammo. He pulled his K-bar and put his hand on the soldier’s arm, who was still burning through his last clip. “It’s been an honor serving beside you, Son.”

  The Japanese went over them like an ocean wave around a delicate sand castle, leaving only death and destruction.

  ***

  Sergeant Carver watched the advance from his vantage point on the ridge. From this distance the men were mere dots, but those dots were advancing unopposed. He felt a knot form in his stomach, something didn’t feel right. It was too easy. He fanned the binoculars to the bunker line. He could barely see two of the low-slung concrete structures. They looked like children’s toys. He’d directed artillery onto them earlier, but they proved to be too thick and well-built. Even with 105mm shells raining down on them, they were still operational.

  He scanned further west searching for the Japanese forces, but his view ended with the curving point of land. He couldn’t see anything beyond the bunkers. Why would the Japs give up the bunkers?

  He pondered calling Division to tell them his fears, but thought better of it. He was a lowly sergeant; they wouldn’t be interested in his gut feeling. Besides, the advance was in full swing and it would be a mistake to stall it.

  His fears were realized when he saw the first shells falling amongst the troops. They were out in the open getting shredded by zeroed in artillery. He didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t pull the binoculars away. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened.

  Behind him O’Connor turned to the dull thump of artillery. “Holy shit, are those our guys under that?”

  Carver dropped the binoculars and they swayed beneath the neck strap. He rubbed his forehead, “They’re getting torn to shit. It’s a trap.” He quickly brought the glasses back to his eyes. “When the arty stops they’ll probably send a counter-attack. Get over here and get ready on the radio. We’ll call it in when we see those yellow bastards.”

  The barrage seemed to last forever, neither of them had seen such a devastating display of Japanese firepower.

  Finally, the barrage stopped. Carver watched the bunkers knowing what was coming. “Get ready on the radio.”

  “I’m ready, Sarge.”

  Carver pointed, “There they are. Get them on the horn and give them fire-mission Alpha; they’re at the bunker complex. It’s close to our guys, but it’s the only chance they’ve got.” O’Connor called it in and waited for confirmation. It was taking too long; the troops would be mixed soon. “What the fuck’s taking so long?”

  “They’re checking, I don’t know.” Carver’s grip on the glasses threatened to crush them. O’Connor listened intently to the radio; they’d finally come back with a reply. He gave Carver a wide eyed look, “Say again.” He listened, his own hand squeezing the headset, “We’ve got Japs in the open streaming past the bunkers, our guys need the fire support or they’ll be overrun.” He listened and threw the headset down. Carver looked at him with narrowed eyes shooting daggers. “The fucking pricks won’t fire, think they’ll hit our troops.”

  Carver’s face turned red, “Why the hell we up here if they’re not gonna listen to us, goddamnit?” He pressed the glasses to his eyes. “Our guys are retreating, they’re in full retreat. The Japs are right on their tails…oh my God.” He handed the glasses to O’Connor and took the radio handset. “Mother, this is falcon 6. Fire mission Alpha minus one hundred.”

  The response came back, “Negative Falcon 6. That’s on our troops. Fire mission denied.”

  “I can see the battle. We’re in full retreat. You rear echelon types better fix bayonets ‘cause they’ll be at your doorstep in minutes.”

  There was a twenty second pause, then the response, “Roger. Fire mission approved. Standby for shot out.” fifteen seconds passed. “Shot out.”

  Carver watched as the 105mm howitzer shell exploded amongst the tiny dots below. “That’s it. You’re right on ‘em. Pour it on.”

  The barrage lasted 6 minutes, he spotted the shells along the Jap advance which finally broke and ground to a halt. The counter attack ended in the same spot they’d occupied the day before. On paper the lines hadn’t moved, but it was clearly a Japanese victory.

  The two companies of the 164th were cut to half strength. Able and Baker companies were melded into one company. The attack had left the Division weakened by a full company and they hadn’t gained a yard.

  Sergeant Carver felt drained by the whole experience. “We’ve gotta get to that hill before we make another push. We’ve gotta find that Jap artillery or we’ll never take this shitty island.”

  “Why aren’t our guys shooting counter-battery?”

  Sergeant Carver gruffly replied, “Must be out of range, that’s the only explanation. They don’t feel obligated to keep me up to date, Private.” He pulled a C-ration from his pack and walked off a couple yards, “Keep watch, I’m eating lunch.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Corporal Hooper and Captain Morrisey’s men were back to the village by midday. As they entered they were met by the entire village. They formed a solemn line and watched as the procession walked by. There were no tears only stony faces watching the procession. Once they were in the center the bodies were placed on the ground in parallel lines. The bearers stepped back and the dead were encircled by the living. The old Chief started a low c
hant.

  Hooper watched from the outside of the circle as the lined face of the Chief looked up to the sky and he lifted his calloused hands to whatever god he was addressing. His voice, at first whispery and barely a murmur, built until a strong baritone filled every ear. Hooper marveled that the small frail man could have such a voice living inside him. There was power within it and Hooper couldn’t tear himself away. It was soothing yet stirring and he didn’t want it to end. But soon it did and an eerie silence filled the village.

  The Chief’s arms stayed extended and he closed his eyes. Hooper thought his shoulders must be burning, but the old Chief didn’t falter. Finally, he slowly dropped his hands and opened his eyes. It was a signal because the women rushed forward and wailing broke out like a dam had burst. The women kneeled beside the dead men and cried. Hooper lowered his head feeling like an outsider.

  Morrisey touched his arm and he gave a start. “Easy does it. We should go to Ahio’s village or we’ll have to make the return trip in the dark.”

  Hooper nodded. He drained the rest of his canteen. “I’ll fill this and I’m ready.”

  ***

  The walk to Chief Ahio’s village was uneventful. The four natives who were along, patrolled quickly and without fear of Japanese patrols. Hooper figured the enemy activity had dropped off because of the American offensive along the coast. Every soldier was needed to defend the line. He wondered if the Japs were curious as to the fate of the patrol Morrisey and his men dispatched a few days ago.

  The patrol entered the village without having seen any sentries. Hooper thought they must either feel secure or be foolhardy. Morrisey and his men were escorted to the center of the village. The villagers weren’t unfriendly, but they weren’t overly pleased to see them either. Morrisey commented on it to Hooper. “Blokes seem rather cool to our arrival wouldn’t you say?” Hooper was unfamiliar so shrugged. His carbine was slung, but he caressed the stock assuring it was within easy reach. Morrisey’s men also seemed to pick up on the feeling, their muscles taut, their eyes flitting around the camp.

  Chief Ahio was summoned and Morrisey brightened and approached him. He waved hello and in Pidgin said, “Chief Ahio, good to see you again so soon.” Ahio didn’t return his smile only nodded his acknowledgment. “Well, I suppose I’ll get right to the point.” He gestured to Corporal Hooper, “The corporal is here to collect Private Dunphy.”

  Ahio stiffened. He looked to the sky then back down and shook his head. In his low guttural Pidgin he responded, “The time has not yet passed.”

  Morrisey frowned. “You know of our losses?” He knew Ahio had an intricate chain of intelligence gatherers just like he did. Ahio would have known about the ridge attack as soon as his own village had.

  Ahio nodded, “A sad loss of life.”

  “Yes, the Americans lost men too and now they are leaving. They won’t leave their man behind. He’s one of their soldiers and is needed for their continued mission.” Ahio frowned and told his men to bring Dunphy.

  He came out of the jungle with a load of firewood. He looked confused being interrupted from his chores. Corporal Hooper couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Dunphy had gone native. He was naked from the waist up. He hadn’t shaved and he wore a native style skirt tied with a crude piece of twine. He was filthy, his white skin streaked with mud, ash and dirt. He wanted to laugh, but held his tongue.

  Dunphy saw Morrisey and Hooper and smiled. He dropped the firewood and strode confidently to the group. The native men on either side of him scowled at his insolence, but since he’d been called by the Chief, didn’t strike him. Dunphy sneered, “Finally getting out of this shit…”

  Morrisey interrupted him, “We’re negotiating your release. Keep quiet, you fool.”

  Dunphy clammed up quickly. This was even more surprising to Hooper who’d never seen Dunphy cowed so easily. He always had to get the last word. Maybe this had been good for him. Maybe he’d learned some manners.

  Ahio spoke again, “We will keep him for two more days. Come back then.”

  Morrisey shook his head and the natives behind their Chief stiffened. “I’m willing to pay for his release.” Ahio nodded wanting to hear more. “As you know, our village is in mourning. If you release this man to our care you and your entire village are welcome to come feast and celebrate these men’s lives.” Ahio looked him in the eye and Morrisey continued, “You are welcome to come eat our food and share our stores. Our villages will be as one for a day of celebration.”

  Dunphy and Hooper were clueless to what was being said, but they could tell Chief Ahio was warming up to the idea. The tenseness melted from the natives’ body and Hooper relaxed his grip on the stock of his carbine.

  Ahio paced back and forth for two minutes then stood in front of Morrisey and nodded. “I accept this offer. You may have the white man.”

  Morrisey smiled and nodded. “It will be an honor to have your village amongst us for this celebration.”

  ***

  Dunphy was beside himself when he heard the news. He was fidgeting from foot to foot unable to control the smile spreading across his face. He nudged Morrisey in the arm, “Tell the fucker to bring me my clothes and weapon.”

  Morrisey kept his smile, but through gritted teeth said, “Mind your manners. Our languages are close enough for him to pick up you’re tone. If you’re not careful you may end up here another week.”

  Dunphy’s smile faded. “No way, no how am I staying here another minute.”

  Hooper chimed in, “Then shut the fuck up numb-nuts.” Dunphy’s eyes went to slits, but he nodded and kept his mouth shut. Hooper shook his head; he really was a changed man. If he’d talked like that a week ago, Dunphy would have tried to knock him out. “We’ll get you changed out of your skirt in a minute.”

  Dunphy gritted his teeth and Morrisey gave Hooper a stern look. “You’re like children. Try to behave.” He spoke to Ahio and with the flick of his hand he sent men off to retrieve Dunphy’s things.

  Dunphy slung his carbine and took his clothes to his hut. “Be back in a second.” He was beaming as he ripped off the skirt and started to pull on his pants. There were hands around his waist squeezing him from behind. He jumped, but knew instantly it was Lela. She’d visited him every night. He turned to look at her, she kept her gaze down. He looked over her bare breasts with the golden brown nipples and her tight curly hair. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. She was still one of the homeliest women he’d ever been with, but he’d miss her skillful ministrations. “Stap gut. Mi lukim bihain.” ‘Stay good. I’ll see you later.’

  Her eyes went from sad to mad. She clenched her fists and started yelling and hitting him. He tried to quiet her, but it was no use. He had to get out of there. If the Chief knew he’d continued screwing his daughter, he’d never get out.

  As she yelled and punched him, he finished pulling on his pants. The rest would have to wait; she was getting herself into a frenzy. He ran out of the hut into the evening sun with her hot on his heels, her breasts swinging wildly. She found a stick and started whacking him with it. He yelled in pain and ran to Morrisey and Hooper like a scared puppy going between its master’s legs.

  Chief Ahio frowned and raised his voice. She stopped beating him and stood staring at the ground breathing hard. Dunphy took the respite to pull on his boots. After walking through the jungle in bare feet for the past week they felt odd and constricting. Ahio spoke harshly to Lela. He ended with a question. Morrisey tensed and asked Dunphy, “What the bloody hell is going on? Don’t tell me you’ve been with her again, not after the first time.”

  Dunphy wiped his bleeding forehead and said, “We need to get the fuck outta here. Now.”

  Hooper was beside himself, “Dammit, Private can’t you keep your pecker in your pants for one second?”

  “She came into my hut. If I didn’t do it she would’ve told the chief I raped her. I didn’t have a choice. She’s frickin’ crazy.”

  Morrisey’s face wen
t pale as he listened to Lela telling her father how Dunphy lured her into his hut and forced himself onto her. “That’s what she’s telling the Chief right now.”

  Dunphy pulled on his shirt bringing the carbine off his shoulder. The natives surrounding them tensed, “That’s horseshit. If anything, she raped me.”

  Hooper guffawed at that, “You wear a skirt and you get raped by a woman? You’re a changed man alright.”

  Dunphy’s face went red. He wanted to kill him, but once again restrained himself. He may have all the fighting he’d want depending on how the next few minutes went.

  Chief Ahios’ fumed, hearing his daughter’s story. He shot daggers from his eyes as he stared at Dunphy. Dunphy stared back. He was done taking any more of his shit. He decided he was willing to shoot his way out of here if he had to and the first one to die would be Ahio. The natives were unslinging their ancient rifles. Dunphy figured his semi-automatic carbine would be able to take out a good number of them before he would have to change clips. He felt for the extra clips he’d had in his pockets, but they were gone. Thieving pricks.

  Morrisey tried to say something, but Chief Ahio held up his hand for silence. He looked around at his men, tensed for combat. They looked at him as he spoke, confusion filling their faces. They lowered their weapons and stepped away. Morrisey spoke to Dunphy, “Sling your rifle, Private. He’s letting us go.” Dunphy made no move to do any such thing. “Do it now before he changes his mind.”

  Dunphy saw the other men backing down, he stood straight and slung his carbine. “Probably shoot us in the back as we leave, or hunt us down like dogs.”

  “They’d have a hard fight and wouldn’t be able to kill all of us,” he indicated his men standing at the ready. “My village would exact revenge. It wouldn’t go well for them; we’ve got them outnumbered two to one. Trust me, he’s letting us go. Don’t be daft and spoil it.”

  More words were spoken and Morrisey turned away and walked back the way they’d come. “Don’t look back. Show our trust by not looking back.”