by Len Levinson
“I don't think so. Japanese soldiers don't usually retreat.”
“Maybe they are this time.”
“And maybe they ain't. Proceed with caution, you guys. Keep your eyes open. Let's go!”
Captain Kashiwagi stood beside his bunker and watched his remaining men form a defense perimeter around him. He could hear automatic-weapons fire in the distance, which told him that some of his men had been caught by the Americans. Sergeant Kato reported that seventy-three of his men had made it back to Captain Kashiwagi's command bunker. They were digging holes in the ground and setting up their machine guns. No Americans would be able to sneak up on any Japanese soldiers now. He looked at his watch: It was three o'clock in the morning. He'd already radioed back for reinforcements and had been told they were on the way, but they wouldn't arrive for hours. Captain Kashiwagi wasn't sure he could hold out that long, but he'd try.
He stepped away from the bunker and headed for a group of men setting up a heavy machine gun. “Hurry!” he told them. “We don't have much time! Work fast, and remember that your ancestors are watching you! Good luck!”
He patted them on the shoulders and moved toward a group of riflemen nearby, knelt beside them, and gave them a pep talk calculated to raise their morale, because battles were usually won by the side that had the highest morale, or at least that's what Captain Kashiwagi wanted to believe as the American soldiers closed in on him and his men at the top of Pat's Nose.
FOURTEEN . . .
It took a half hour for the GIs on Pat's Nose to realize that the Japs had moved back toward a final defensive perimeter, and it took another half hour of probing patrols to determine where the defensive perimeter was located.
GIs ringed the Japanese position while Butsko, Captain Rutledge, and Captain Ferrara held a meeting underneath a tree to decide what to do. The heavy downpour was easing off but showed no indication that it would stop altogether.
“I think we should mortar the shit out of them,” Captain Ferrara said, “and then attack from all sides.”
“Sounds good to me,” replied Captain Rutledge.
“Me too,” said Butsko.
The two officers had their heavy-weapons platoons with them on Pat's Nose, and the mortar sections set up their tubes and zeroed in on the Japanese position while American soldiers kept the Japanese soldiers pinned down with rifle and machine-gun fire. The American officers coordinated their activities and passed down orders to move all troops back when the mortars were ready to open up. The soldiers retreated and the mortars began lobbing rounds toward the Japanese position. They fired overs and unders until they were dropping the shells onto the Japs, and then they laid down their barrage, the air filling with the thunder of mortar explosions as the Japanese position was blasted back and forth and from end to end.
The recon platoon lay together uphill from the Japanese position, watching the shells explode. Smoke and orange flashes obscured the Japanese perimeter. It didn't appear as if any Japs could survive the barrage.
“Boy,” said Homer Gladley, “I'd sure hate to be in there.”
Frankie La Barbara gritted his teeth, remembering when he'd been a prisoner of the Japs. “Give it to the bastards!”
Butsko looked at his watch. It was 0412 hours, and the barrage was supposed to end at 0430 hours. Then Easy Company, Fox Company, and the recon platoon would attack together and wipe out the Japs who were still alive. Butsko took a sip from his canteen, then drew a cigarette from his pack and lit it up.
It wouldn't be long now.
Inside the bunker Captain Kashiwagi pressed his back against a wall as his men crowded inside. The bunker shook with the violence of the explosions, and Captain Kashiwagi's ears rang with the noise.
“Get back!” he shouted. “The bunker can't hold any more men!”
His men couldn't hear him well and didn't care anyway. The mortar barrage was horrifying and they wanted to get away from it. Pushing, scratching, and elbowing, they fought their way into the bunker until no one inside could move any more, but still they tried to push their way in.
“That's enough!” yelled Captain Kashiwagi. “Get back! Sergeant Kato, close the door!”
“I can't get near the door!” replied Sergeant Kato on the other side of the room.
Captain Kashiwagi felt panic and claustrophobia rising inside him. “Get back, I said! Close the door!”
Nobody obeyed him; anarchy had broken out in his command. The mortar barrage had destroyed their discipline, and Captain Kashiwagi's arms were pinned to his sides by the press of men. He couldn't even draw his samurai sword.
“I'll have you all shot!” he screamed.
Barrooooooommmmmmm!
A mortar round landed in the trench behind the door and blew the soldiers there to hamburger. Shrapnel from the round traveled sharp and fast, cutting down Japanese soldiers, including some already inside the bunker. The shock wave was so fierce, it burst Captain Kashiwagi's eardrums, nearly knocking him unconscious. Blood dripped out of his ears and he blinked his eyes, trying to make sense out of what had happened. When the smoke cleared, he saw heaps of dead soldiers in the trench outside and in the bunker.
“Close the door!”
The soldiers near the door kicked the dead and wounded out of the way and slammed it shut. Captain Kashiwagi had room now and pushed his way to the corner of the bunker, where the telephone was. He sat down and picked up the receiver, holding it against his face, but heard nothing. The line was dead. Evidently a mortar blast had severed the wires.
Captain Kashiwagi tried to make plans as mortar rounds fell on his position. The sound was deafening and interfered with his thinking, but he knew the Americans would attack as soon as their barrage ended. The only sensible response would be to lead his men outside and fight to the death.
He looked around and counted eighteen men lying on the ground or pressing their backs against the walls of the bunker, gazing fearfully at the ceiling. He'd started out the day before yesterday with nearly three hundred men, and doubted whether many survivors were outside.
But he was a samurai, and samurai fight to the death. He drew his sword and swung it through the air. “Listen to me!” he shouted. “The Americans will attack as soon as they finish their barrage! We will go outside and kill as many as we can! We will die with our weapons in our hands like good Japanese soldiers! We will die fighting the enemies of our Emperor! Banzai!”
At that moment a mortar round landed directly on the roof of the bunker and exploded ferociously. The shock wave knocked Captain Kashiwagi off his feet and he fell down, nearly cutting off his leg with his samurai sword. The roof caved in and dirt fell on Captain Kashiwagi and his remaining men. Some of his men screamed in terror, and Captain Kashiwagi choked on the dust and smoke. Another mortar round landed beside the east wall of the bunker and it collapsed onto Captain Kashiwagi, burying his legs. He clawed at the sand and chunks of wood and clambered to his feet. His men coughed and spat, digging themselves out of the debris.
Captain Kashiwagi forced a laugh. “Lucky shots!” he said. “But now we have nothing to worry about! A shell never lands in the same spot twice!”
Barrrroooooommmmmmm!
Another shell landed on top of the bunker and blew in the roof. Sandbags and logs fell on Captain Kashiwagi and his men, and they struggled to work themselves loose. Captain Kashiwagi pushed the debris off himself and exposed his head to the night air. Rain and American mortar rounds continued to fall all around him. The landscape was ghostly, with explosions everywhere in the sea of darkness. Captain Kashiwagi climbed out of the wreckage and lay on the ground, holding his samurai sword in his fist. He realized that it wasn't raining so hard and that there was a faint glow on the horizon. The rest of his men crawled out of the bunker's wreckage and shivered on the mud nearby.
Captain Kashiwagi buried his face in the crook of his arm and waited for the barrage to end. He knew he would die soon and was almost happy about it, because the tribulations of being
a human being would soon be over forever. He'd have no more worries about who he was and no more horrible nightmares. He'd suffer no more remorse over past mistakes, such as the one he'd made during the night in not protecting his bunkers adequately. All he hoped for was a glorious death while killing American soldiers. He thought of his mother and father back in Kobe, and how sad they'd be when they found out he'd been killed in action. Probably they wouldn't even receive the little white box full of his ashes, because it was unlikely that his body would ever be recovered by his own army. He wondered what life would be like in the hereafter, and hoped that Shinto theology was correct. A samurai soldier who fought and died for his Emperor was supposed to go to heaven.
The mortar barrage was tapering off. The Americans would attack at any moment. “Get ready! The Americans are coming! Kill as many as you can! Banzai!”
A few more mortar rounds landed on his former defense perimeter, and then the barrage ended. Captain Kashiwagi gripped his samurai sword tightly and got to his knees, peering through the smoke and rain, getting ready for the Americans. He saw his men rising from the rubble of his demolished position. There only were eleven in his immediate vicinity, plus a few dozen more clambering out of holes in other parts of the defense perimeter.
“Banzai!” Captain Kashiwagi shrieked, getting to his feet. “Tenno heika banzai!”
He stood with his samurai sword in his right hand and his legs spread apart, an angry, resigned expression on his face. In the distance he heard the battle cries of the attacking American soldiers.
The recon platoon swooped down toward the Japanese position like angels of death, firing their submachine guns. The Reverend Billie Jones let out a rebel yell, and Corporal Longtree made weird Apache war whoops. Bannon screamed at the top of his lungs and Frankie La Barbara contributed Bronx cheers. The recon platoon charged the Japanese position and in the dim dawn light saw the ground pockmarked with shell craters and littered with with dead Japanese soldiers. The Japanese soldiers who were still alive stood to fight with their rifles and bayonets, but the men from the recon platoon shot them to pieces while soldiers from Easy and Fox Companies attacked from the other three sides.
The Japanese were outnumbered six to one and were still numb from the mortar bombardment. The Americans swarmed over them, wreaking vengeance for their friends in Baker Company who'd been slaughtered by this very Japanese unit the day before. The GIs showed no mercy, machine-gunning the Japs, stabbing them with bayonets, kicking them in the balls, and stomping on their faces. The Japanese soldiers fought back as best they could, killing a few GIs and wounding several, but were soon overwhelmed.
Captain Kashiwagi saw the Americans approach. He stood solidly, his legs far apart, his samurai sword in his right hand, his body tense. He was approaching the most glorious moment of his life, when he would die with his sword in hand, killing the enemies of his Emperor. Smoke and mist rose all around him in the first gray glow of rainy dawn. He turned to face four American soldiers charging him, firing submachine guns. “Banzai!” he screamed, running toward them, raising his sam urai sword high in the air.
He only went three steps, and then their bullets hit him in the face and tore his head apart. Another burst mashed his heart and lungs into sausage meat. Two more bursts ripped up his intestines, spleen, and gall bladder. Captain Kashiwagi was dead before he hit the ground. The GIs ran over him, being careful not to get his blood on their combat boots. They looked around and split up, charging the few remaining Japanese soldiers nearby and machine-gunning them to death.
Butsko stood in the center of the Japanese position and could see no more enemy soldiers to kill. He heard sporadic gunfire as the other GIs finished off the remaining Japs. It looked as though they'd retaken Pat's Nose, but now they had to dig in and get ready for a Japanese counterattack.
Butsko saw Captain Rutledge talking on his walkie-talkie and headed toward him. Bannon joined Butsko, the barrel of his submachine gun still smoking.
“We did it,” Bannon said wearily.
“We damn sure did.”
Captain Rutledge turned off his walkie-talkie. “I just told Colonel Hutchins we've secured the hill.”
“What he say?”
“He said he'd be right up.”
The men from the recon platoon gathered around Butsko and Bannon, grim smiles on their faces. They patted each other on their backs and placed their arms around each other's shoulders. Cigarettes were lit up and the men drank from their canteens. They looked around at the dead Japs lying nearby.
“We'd better get dug in up here,” Butsko said. “Let's hit it.”
The men from the recon platoon trudged toward the top of the hill. Private Nutsy Gafooley looked at a dead Japanese officer who was shot to shit, his samurai sword lying nearby.
The grungy ex-hobo bent over and picked up the sword, looking at it in the dim light. “This'll probably come in handy one of these days,” he said. He pulled the scabbard off the dead Japanese officer, inserted the sword into it, and jammed the scabbard into his belt.
He caught up with the others, and together the men from the recon platoon climbed toward the top of Pat's Nose, as dawn broke on Bougainville.
