by Len Levinson
Lieutenant Shankar was shocked by Betty's reply. “What did you say?” she asked.
“I said shut your mouth.”
“You can't talk to me that way,” Lieutenant Shankar said.
“I just did,” Betty replied. She raised her chin and walked past Lieutenant Shankar, heading toward the tents where the nurses lived.
“I'm still going to have that big ogre court-martialed!” Lieutenant Shanker declared, her face purple with rage.
FIVE . . .
It was the next day. General Douglas MacArthur sat in his office in his headquarters building in downtown Brisbane, Australia. A new headquarters was being constructed for him at Hollandia on New Guinea, but wasn't ready for him to move in yet.
General MacArthur was commander of all U.S. Army troops in the Southwest Pacific. He was sixty-four years old and had been in the Army forty-one years. His military record was illustrious, some would say the most illustrious in the history of the U.S. Army, but he had one black mark on his record.
The Japs had kicked his ass off Bataan in 1941. He'd left his whole Army behind, and there's nothing more disgraceful for an Army officer than to leave his soldiers behind, to be killed, wounded, or captured by the enemy, but General MacArthur had done that on direct orders from his commander-in-chief, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, President of the United States.
General MacArthur was a proud man, and also somewhat paranoid. He believed President Roosevelt and General George C. Marshall, the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, had conspired to humiliate him. He believed they refused to reinforce him on Bataan for personal reasons, because they were jealous of him, and not for sound military reasons.
MacAithur was a brilliant man. Some said he was the greatest military genius America ever had produced. Others said he was vain, myopic, and a ham actor. General Dwight D. Eisenhower, who'd served as General MacArthur's chief of staff for a while in the Philippines, once said he'd studied drama under General MacArthur.
The main criticism of General MacArthur was that he didn't take into consideration the war raging in Europe, North Africa, Italy, and other parts of the world. President Roosevelt and General Marshall had to make global decisions, and they didn't have sufficient men and matériel to give every local commander whatever he needed. Everything had to be rationed in the Army as it was rationed in civilian life. They said General MacArthur didn't understand this because he thought whatever he was doing took precedence over everything else. General MacArthur thought he was the only show in town.
From his point of view he was the only show in town. What did he care about Europe or North Africa? His main objective was to defeat the Japanese Empire, and he devoted all his energies and considerable talents toward that end.
General MacArthur had been making his comeback ever since the dismal days on Bataan. His efforts gained momentum in October 1942, when the Americans first took it to the Japs on Guadalcanal. MacArthur had been moving ever closer to the Philippines since then, island by island, battle by battle, bucket of blood after bucket of blood. Now his Sixth Army, nicknamed the Alamo Task Force, was on New Guinea conducting operations, and the Philippines comprised the next island chain to the northwest of New Guinea.
The general was anxious to consolidate his victory on New Guinea and then jump off to the Philippines. He'd sworn he'd return and by God he would, no matter what. Roosevelt, Marshall, and the entire Japanese Army wouldn't stop him. History was on the march. General MacArthur had powerful friends in Congress. He hoped to attack the Japanese in the Philippines before the end of the year.
General MacArthur had developed a new strategy of warfare in the South Pacific, and it was so new many people didn't understand it. Some called it “island-hopping” and others called it “hitting ‘em where they ain't,” but whatever it was, it was working. Basically the strategy worked like this: Instead of attacking strongly held Japanese bases head-on, he captured weakly held objectives to the rear of the strongly held ones, cut the Japanese supply lines, and starved out the strongly held bases, letting them wither away on the vine. MacArthur had employed this strategy throughout the South Pacific, most notably with the massive Japanese base at Rabaul on New Britain Island, which would have cost countless American lives if he'd assaulted it according to conventional rules of strategy and tactics. Instead, all the Japan ese soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen were slowly starving to death at Rabaul, gnashing their teeth and praying the Americans would attack them so they—the Japanese—could die with honor.
General MacArthur had employed this strategy on New Guinea too, landing troops at Aitape and Hollandia, two lightly held objectives, cutting off the Japanese Eighteenth Army deployed in the vicinity of Wewak. Although the Japanese Army at Wewak was cut off, that didn't mean it'd disappeared. The Persecution Task Force, commanded at that time by Brigadier General Jens A. Doe, assaulted Aitape and the Tadji air strips on April 22, signaling victory on April 23. Shortly thereafter intelligence reports from natives and observation aircraft indicated that the Japanese Eighteenth Army was moving westward toward Aitape from Wewak. Since then there had been skirmishes, fights, and even quite serious battles with the Japanese Army, as its various units approached Aitape.
Now battle lines were solidified in the area along the Driniumor River. The Japanese held the east bank, and the GIs held the west bank. General MacArthur was aware that new Japanese units were coming up on the line all the time, and General Adachi would launch an attack to retake Aitape and the Tadji airfields any day now. If the Persecution Task Force couldn't hold Aitape and the Tadji airfields, General MacArthur's plans to assault the Philippines would have to be postponed, and MacArthur didn't want to do that. He'd sworn to return to the Philippines, and people were starting to ask when? He couldn't let the Japanese retake Aitape and the Tadji airfields, and that's why he was devoting his fullest attention to that sector of the Pacific War on the morning of July 4, 1944.
He couldn't assault the Philippines if the Japanese Eighteenth Army was attacking his rear, resupplied by American equipment and gasoline they'd have if they recaptured Aitape. He'd also have the Japanese Air Force on his ass too, because Japanese planes would be able to use the Tadji airfields, which Japanese construction crews had built in the first place. The tiny village of Aitape and the dinky Tadji airfields were becoming crucial objectives in the burgeoning Pacific War.
General MacArthur leaned over the documents on his desk, perusing them, shuffling them with his long fingers. A corncob pipe stuck out the corner of his mouth, not the massive corncob pipe he posed with for publicity pictures, but an ordinary corncob that a man could smoke without difficulty. Tobacco smoke billowed up around General MacArthur's head. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating his craggy profile, and below him were the streets of Brisbane, Australia, where he was treated like a hero. General MacArthur wore his old battle hat for publicity pictures because he was bald on the top of his head, and didn't think a bald head looked so nice. He even tried to cover his baldness with the long strands of hair that grew on the sides of his head, but the strands were stringy and never stayed put. General MacArthur somehow didn't look like such a great military leader without his old battle hat on.
Scattered over the top of his desk were letters, documents, communiqués, reports, maps, memoranda, and various other scraps of paper concerning the situation in the vicinity of Aitape, and everything indicated that General Adachi and his Eighteenth Army would assault Aitape and the Tadji airfields on the night of July 9.
The information had come in from radio intercepts, because U.S. intelligence experts had broken the Japanese codes at the beginning of the war. It also came in from reports by observers in the U.S. Army Air Corps, and from reports proffered by friendly natives. A variety of captured Japanese documents stated in black and white that the attack would take place on that night, and one of the documents on General MacArthur's desk was a translation of the orders captured by Lieutenant Breckenridge and the recon pl
atoon during the morning of July 3. Numerous captured Japanese soldiers had stated that an attack would be launched on the night of July 9.
General MacArthur meditated upon the intelligence information, wondering what he should do. It indicated that General Adachi had twenty thousand men in his forward areas, and another eleven thousand in reserve. Could the Persecution Task Force hold them?
General MacArthur decided he didn't want to take any chances with his assault on the Philippines. He realized he'd better reinforce the Aitape area as soon as possible. He picked up a pen and drafted the orders he intended to dispatch to General Krueger at Alamo Task Force headquarters that very day. The 114th Regimental Combat Team would be shipped to Aitape without delay. General Mac Arthur also directed an additional 155-mm howitzer battalion to be shipped to Aitape, because there was nothing like those gigantic shells for breaking up an enemy attack. Number Seventy-one Wing on the Army Air Corps was scheduled to leave the Tadji airfields, but General MacArthur countermanded the order. Finally General MacArthur decided that the 845th Regimental Combat Team also should be sent to Aitape.
He looked at the names of the units he'd written on the sheet of paper, and was pleased. Scrawling notes on another piece of paper, he estimated that the Persecution Task Force's total strength would equal three-and-two-thirds divisions. He doubted whether General Adachi and his Eighteenth Army could defeat such a force.
The best form of defense usually was offense. General MacArthur decided it might be a good idea for local commanders to mount an offense against the Japanese, to knock the Japanese off-balance and upset their attack plans. General MacArthur thought he'd recommend this course of action in his message to General Krueger and General Hall.
General MacArthur wrote the last line of his order and leaned back in his chair. His pipe had gone out, and he rested it on his ashtray. He looked out the window at the expanse of blue sky dotted with clouds that looked like cotton puffballs. He hoped to return to the Philippines in October, and when he did return it'd be the fulfillment of his deepest longing and greatest desire. He wanted to rush even more troops and equipment to Aitape, to insure that his attack would take place at the designated time, but he didn't have unlimited resources. He had to ration what he had and not take too much from one sector to strengthen another, Otherwise he might weaken himself someplace and leave himself open to setbacks and defeats. War consisted of tradeoffs and measurements. If you paid too much to win a battle, it wouldn't be worth it, and if you didn't invest enough, you could lose whatever you did invest.
The general didn't want to make costly mistakes, and not just for the sake of his military reputation either. He cared for his men and didn't want to lose any more than was necessary. He didn't want to gamble with their lives, but on the other hand he had to use his men to win the war and save civilization from the Japanese.
He looked at the orders he'd just written and decided they were the best he could do at that time, given the resources he had at his command. Reaching forward, he pressed the button on his telephone, so he could give his chief of staff his new orders for Aitape.
At Hollandia, General Walter Krueger, commanding officer of General MacArthur's Sixth Army, code-named the Alamo Task Force, received the orders via radio transmission that very day. The orders were decoded and placed before him by one of his intelligence officers. General Krueger was sixty-two years old, born in West Prussia, and had emigrated to America with his family when he was only eight years old. He'd enlisted in the Army as a private in 1898 and worked his way up through the ranks. He was a tough old bird and that was just what he looked like.
General MacArthur's orders were clear-cut and concise as always. General Krueger immediately wrote out his own orders, filling in the details that were his responsibility. He added one item of his own to the orders, directing General Hall at Aitape not only to stop the impending Japanese attack, but also to launch a vigorous counterattack of his own, wiping out the Japanese Eighteenth Army for good.
General Krueger's orders arrived at the headquarters of General Hall at Aitape via radio transmission that evening. General Hall was pleased to be receiving reinforcements, but wasn't happy to learn about the impending Japanese attack. General Hall only recently had been appointed to head the Reckless Task Force. He still wasn't thoroughly acquainted with his new command, but couldn't let that stop him. He knew the significance of Aitape to the overall strategic picture. He couldn't lose Aitape to the Japs.
All he could do was prepare for the attack as best he could, and figure out how best to deploy the new units that would arrive soon. Although he'd been advised that the Japanese would attack on the night of July 9, he didn't know where they'd attack, or whether that date might be changed. He had to keep the Japs under constant scrutiny, and his eyes were the patrols that were sent out regularly.
General Hall decided that patrolling should be conducted more aggressively than ever, and drafted an order on the spot to insure that would take place. To drive the point home to his subordinates, he'd schedule a meeting for tomorrow morning at 0800 hours in his office. They had to understand the importance of keeping tabs on the Japs.
SIX . . .
The next day the recon platoon received notice that they would go out on just such a patrol that evening. They knew nothing about the decisions reached by Generals MacArthur, Krueger, and Hall, and had no idea the Japanese Eighteenth Army was scheduled to attack on the night of July 9, but they'd been told that a Japanese attack was imminent, and their patrol was supposed to elicit as much information about the attack as possible.
It was 1800 hours—six o'clock in the evening—and chow had just ended. The men from the recon platoon cleaned their submachine guns, sharpened their Ka-bar knives, and got their gear in order, each man trying not to think about what might happen to him on the patrol, because it was possible this would be the patrol from which he'd never return.
The sun sank toward the horizon, and the shadows of the jungle lengthened. A few clouds were in the sky and it appeared as though it might rain. The clank of military equipment could be heard along with conversations among soldiers, the rumble of jeep and truck engines, and birds singing good night to each other high in the trees.
A soldier carrying an M 1 rifle appeared on the trail leading to the recon platoon, and he trudged onward, an expression of sorrow and deep concern on his face. The Reverend Billie Jones happened to glance up at this soldier from his dog-eared, weatherbeaten handy pocket edition of the Bible, and his jaw dropped open.
“It's Shilansky!” he said.
Everybody looked at Shilansky, including Frankie La Barbara, who'd been certain Shilansky was on his way back to the States to fuck his wife. A smile broke out on Frankie La Barbara's face, because now he could be sure that his wife Francesca wouldn't be sleeping with Shilansky.
“What the hell are you doing back here!” Frankie said.
“They found out I really didn't have blood poisoning,” Shilansky replied, heading toward Lieutenant Breckenridge.
“What was wrong with you?”
“Who the hell knows?”
Shilansky walked up to Lieutenant Breckenridge's foxhole and kneeled at its edge. “I'm back,” he said.
“So I see,” Lieutenant Breckenridge replied. “You feel all right?”
“No.”
“Good. You can join us on tonight's patrol. We're going out at twenty hundred hours. Get a submachine gun from the armorer and report back here when you're finished.”
“Yes sir,” Shilansky said listlessly.
“Welcome back.”
Shilansky shrugged, because he wasn't very happy about being back, risking his life at the front again, but that wasn't his main problem. Something else was bothering him, and he didn't think he could handle it.
He shuffled his feet and made his way to the command post of Headquarters Company, where the armorer was. He couldn't stop thinking about the article he'd read in a newspaper while he'd been languishing at th
e division medical headquarters.
The newspaper had been the New York Times, sent originally to a patient at the hospital. It was mangled and torn by the time Shilansky received it, but he read it hungrily anyway, his first opportunity in a long time to find out what was going on in the world.
Shilansky ran across the news story that was disturbing him so much on one of the back pages of the newspaper. The news story said Jews were being exterminated en masse in German concentration camps in Europe. The Jews evidently were being gassed and then cremated in huge ovens, perhaps hundreds of thousands, even millions of them. World leaders vowed that the Nazis would be punished for this after the war.
Shilansky was a Jew, and the news story had blown his mind. He hadn't been feeling well since he read it, and he wasn't even that much of a Jew. He hardly ever went to the synagogue back in the States, and never attended Jewish services in the Army. He wasn't particularly an atheist, but he didn't believe in God very much either.
Shilansky was the only Jew in the recon platoon, and often could forget he was a Jew, thinking he was just another one of the boys, which in fact he was as far as they were concerned, but the newspaper article caused him to realize he was different from them, because nobody ever tried to gas or cremate the entire race of Irishmen, Italians, White Anglo-Saxon Protestants, or any other cultural or religious group.
Shilansky walked through the darkening jungle, his hands in his pockets and his face inclined toward the ground. He couldn't understand why anybody would hate Jews enough to kill them all off. He knew Jews were obnoxious sometimes, but so were all other people sometimes. He knew people often were jealous of Jews, and claimed Jews owned everything, but Shilansky never owned anything, and his father had been a house painter before the Depression, working for wages. He knew some Jews owned little corner grocery stores, or sometimes big department stores, but no Jews owned the really huge stuff in America, like the major banks and enormous corporations like General Motors.
