by Len Levinson
“What're we stopping for?” Frankie asked.
“We're gonna wait for DelFranco,” Bannon said.
“What the fuck for?”
“Shaddup, Frankie.”
“If he wants to get killed, let him get killed!”
“I said shaddup, Frankie!”
The machine guns stopped firing and DelFranco thought he had it made. He moved quickly through the jungle, so eager that he got up off his belly and walked on his hands and knees. He didn't know it, but the Japanese lookouts were coming out of their bunkers again to take their posts, fanning through the jungle in front of him. He heard faint rustling but thought it was only the natural sounds of the jungle, because he didn't have the ears of Longtree or Gomez. His heart beating wildly, flashing on himself standing at attention as General Patch pinned the Distinguished Service Cross to his shirt, he headed for the spot where he thought a Japanese bunker was.
One of the Japanese lookouts saw him coming and slowly sank to his belly behind a bush. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, drew a bead on DelFranco, saw the pack on his back, and smiled, because he knew it was full of American C rations. He waited until Del Franco came closer and wondered why the American soldier was making so much noise. Maybe it was a trap. The Japanese soldier was a seasoned jungle fighter and didn't care. He thought he could get away. He squeezed the trigger of his rifle.
Blam!
DelFranco twitched and stopped moving.
Blam!
DelFranco lay still on the ground. The Japanese soldier waited a few minutes to see if anything happened. Nothing did. He crawled forward and prodded DelFranco with his bayonet, but DelFranco didn't move. The Japanese soldier tore open DelFranco's pack, filled his arms with C and K rations, and carried them back to the bunker.
Farther down the hill, the men in the recon platoon heard the two shots and then the long period of silence. It didn't take much intelligence to know what had happened.
“Let's get out of here!” Bannon said. “Gomez, take the point!”
SIXTEEN . . .
The next morning the attack began with a massive artillery barrage from the top of Hill Twenty-seven and the lowlands. Bombers from Henderson field assisted in the roaring devastation, and fighter pilots strafed the jungle. At the bottom of Hill Twenty-five the tanks were lined up and the GIs deployed in three waves behind them. Tank engines belched smoke into the air, and tank commanders stood in the turrets of their vehicles, surveying their objective through binoculars. Farther back Colonel Stockton and the other commanders had their eyes glued to binoculars, anxiously awaiting the end of the bombardment.
The shelling and bombing continued for ninety minutes, and then the tanks and GIs advanced beneath its cover. Shells whistled overhead and every GI knew they were going to kick the shit out of the Japs. Simultaneous advances were made at other points on the Gifu Line to keep the Japs busy. In his bunker Major Uchikoshi knew something big was coming and ordered his men to get ready.
The shelling stopped and the tanks rumbled forward, smashing through the jungle. Behind them came the GIs, yipping and screaming. The Japanese machine guns in the bunkers opened fire, their bullets pinging harmlessly off the armor of the tanks, which now were buttoned down for action. The GIs huddled behind the tanks like baby geese following their mothers. The tanks knocked over trees and waddled across gullies, moving closer to the bunkers. The machine-gun fire became: more intense and the Japanese soldiers heard the tanks coming,; feeling cold fear inside them, because they had no defense against mobile steel fortresses with cannons and machine guns. They reported the presence of the tanks to Major Uchikoshi, who knew the Gifu Line was about to crack. But there was nothing he could do about it: He had no antitank weapons and he was under orders to stand and fight.
The tanks came into view of the bunkers, and the Japanese soldiers fired at them hopelessly. The tanks cannons were leveled on the bunkers and shells pumped out, blowing down the log walls, caving in the roofs. The Japanese soldiers still alive retreated from the bunkers and tried to make a last stand in the trench network surrounding them. The tanks fired their machine guns, cutting them down, then blew them up with their cannons. A few heroic Japanese soldiers charged the tanks with live hand grenades in their hands, but they were picked off by the machine guns and rifle fire from the GIs.
The order was given to charge, and the GIs poured around the tanks and charged the Japanese trenches while the tanks provided fire support. The GIs advanced with marching fire, tossing hand grenades, cheering wildly, going kill-crazy. When they got close to the trenches the tanks stopped firing and the GIs made their final rush, jumping into the trenches and taking on the Japs hand to hand.
The Japs were outnumbered and outgunned, but they fought bravely. Some pulled hand grenades and blew themselves up along with American GIs close by. The GIs swarmed over them and kept advancing, shooting .and stabbing, stomping on Japanese faces, unleashing their frustration at being machine-gunned and stopped cold by the bunkers ever since the attack on the Gifu began.
It took two hours to overrun Hill Twenty-five, and the fight was over by noon. Colonel Stockton was so heartened by the success of the attack that he decided to keep going. He ordered an artillery strike on the adjacent Hill Twenty-three and told the tank commanders to move into position for another charge.
The tanks rolled down Hill Twenty-five and lined up at the bottom of Hill Twenty-three, with the tired and victorious GIs taking positions behind them. The second artillery barrage began, this time without air support, but Colonel Stockton didn't think it was necessary. The tanks were all that was needed to do the job, he realized now, and he figured that if there had been two hundred tanks on Guadalcanal, they could have taken the whole island weeks before.
At two o'clock in the afternoon the second attack got under way, and it was the same story. When the artillery stopped, the tanks advanced with the GIs behind them. The machine gunners in the Japanese bunkers opened fire and the tanks homed in on them, firing shells, blowing them to bits. The infantry followed and mopped them up. Hill Twenty-three was in American hands at 1730 hours, and all resistance ended.
At the end of the day it was clear to Colonel Stockton that the Gifu Line was finished. All he'd have to do was keep attacking each hill with tanks until every Japanese bunker was destroyed. He figured three more days ought to do it. He ordered the tanks and troops to move into position at the foot of Hill Twenty-three in preparation for another attack in the morning. Then he left the field of battle to report to General Patch in person on the success of his day's work.
Major Uchikoshi knew what Colonel Stockton knew: that the Gifu was finished for all practical purposes. It was only a matter of days before each bunker, including his own, was systematically destroyed. The big question in his mind was whether he wanted to wait for that to happen and be killed like a cornered rat or take the initiative and go out in a blaze of glory?
The decision was not difficult for him to make, because all Japanese officers were programmed to think in wild, heroic terms. All Japanese officers believed in the theory of the One Sudden Decisive Victory ever since the Japanese fleet defeated the Russians at Port Arthur in one bold stroke in 1904. The theory of the One Sudden Decisive Victory had been behind the Pearl Harbor attack, which had succeeded tactically but not strategically, because it had not knocked America out of the : war. Yet, the theory persisted, and Japanese military commanders were always looking for the opportunity to defeat their enemies in one spectacular stroke.
As the sun sank on Guadalcanal, Major Uchikoshi sat at his desk and worked out plans to attack the Americans. He reasoned that the Americans wouldn't expect a night attack and would be caught off guard. They would be confused and disorganized. A fierce determined onslaught might defeat them, especially if it was launched from their rear, and if it didn't succeed, at least he and his men could die like soldiers on the attack instead of huddling in their bunkers, being blown to bits by American tanks.
> Major Uchikoshi had approximately 350 men left out of the 500 he'd had when the Americans had stumbled onto the Gifu Line. That would be a sizable force attacking suddenly at night from an unexpected sector of the front. He'd organize special detachments of men with grenades tied to their bodies, who'd propel themselves like human bombs at the tanks. The tanks would be his first concern. Knock them out and the rest shouldn't be too difficult.
He drew lines on his map, figuring out the plan of attack. His men would leave their bunkers and make their way down the hills, working around the Americans below and attacking from the rear. He knew the attack was audacious and many things could go wrong, but so had been the plan to bomb Pearl Harbor.
By eight o'clock in the evening he'd worked out all the details. Now the only thing to do would be to carry them out. There was no time to waste; he'd never have more men than he had then.
“Lieutenant Isogami!” he called out.
“Yes, sir.”
“Summon all officers and noncoms to this bunker immediately!”
“Yes, sir.”
Lieutenant Isogami got on the radio and made the calls. Major Uchikoshi studied his map in the light of the flickering kerosene lamp and realized that he and his men probably would not see the morning. The Americans were deployed across a broad front, and he knew there were a great many of them, perhaps a regiment or two, maybe even a division. It wouldn't be prudent to hit them in the center of their line, because he and his men would then have Americans on both sides. The best plan would be to hit them in flank and try to roll them back. It would be an almost impossible task, but perhaps, if the gods smiled on them, he could win a victory. Could Japanese spirit defeat American materialism?
That night Major Uchikoshi would find out for sure.
As the GIs slept beneath a full moon, the Japanese soldiers moved out of their bunkers and descended the rear slopes of the hills, where they wouldn't run into Americans. They assembled in the jungle and began their long march around the Gifu Line so that they could attack the Americans on their left flank.
The jungle was thick and the going was slow and arduous. Specially picked jungle fighters led the way, hacking their way through the thick vines and underbrush with their machetes. At one o'clock in the morning they came upon a coconut grove, and like madmen the Japanese soldiers fell on the coconuts, smashing them open, drinking the milk, and gulping down the meat. They all filled their bellies and Major Uchikoshi told them to move out again, for the Americans weren't far away.
Every Japanese soldier knew the odds against them, but they all agreed with Major Uchikoshi that it was better to die like a soldier than a cornered animal. They knew their attack had little chance of success, that it was in essence a suicide attack, but their spirits were high, for there was no more honorable a death than to give their lives for their Emperor.
At two-thirty in the morning Major Uchikoshi checked his maps and knew the American left flank was near. They could bump into it at any moment. He ordered a halt and his men had a last ceremonial drink of water, toasting the health of their Emperor and asking the gods to give them the strength to overwhelm their enemies.
They put away their canteens and threw off their packs so that they could travel light. The special detachments took their places at the head of the column, grenades strapped to their bodies. It was a solemn, almost religious moment as the Japanese soldiers thought of journeying to heaven together.
Major Uchikoshi moved his arm forward, and the soldiers with machetes ran forward to clear a path. The defenders of the Gifu Line followed, their rifles in their hands and bayonets fixed, ready to die.
Colonel Smith was sleeping soundly in his tent, when he felt his shoulder being rudely shaken.
“Wake up, sir!” said Captain Greewald.
Colonel Smith opened his eyes slowly, for he'd had a few belts of jungle juice before retiring. “What the hell's wrong now?”
“Fox Company reports enemy activity in the jungle to the south of its position!”
“What kind of enemy activity?”
“Captian Leach says it sounds like a sizable bunch of Japs!” That's all Colonel Smith had to hear. He jumped out of bed and ran barefoot and in his shorts to the radio in the other section of the tent. The operator handed him the headset.
“Leach!” boomed Colonel Smith.
“Yes, sir!”
“What the fuck is going on out there!”
“Sounds like a couple companies of Japs at least! Maybe a battalion! Maybe more!”
Colonel Smith raised himself on his toes. “Now, listen carefully. I want you to hold on there as long as you can, but if it gets too tough, pull back slowly in a fighting retreat. Are you set up with your mortars and machine guns?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then start firing right now. Good luck. Over and out.” Excited, Colonel Smith called his other companies and told them to move to their left and be ready for a Jap suicide attack. Then he dashed to his sleeping area and put on his clothes, because he wanted to be where the action was. As he pulled on his pants, he heard the mortars and machine guns starting to fire.
The mortars rounds fell on the jungle through which the Gifu soldiers were advancing, and machine-gun bullets whistled through the leaves. The sound startled Major Uchikoshi, because he hadn't expected to be discovered so soon. He raised his samurai sword high in the air and ran forward, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Banzai! Charge!”
His men followed him, and his machete bearers took positions at his side. The Japanese soldiers streaked toward the American left flank as the jungle exploded all around them.
"Everybody up!” shouted Captain Orr. "Let's go!”
The men put on their boots and scrambled out of their tents, grabbing their rifles and hanging bandoliers of ammunition around their necks. They plopped helmets on their heads and saw Captain Orr kicking tents and pointing south, where Fox Company was encamped.
"Hurry up! The Japs are coming!”
Bannon crawled out of his tent and jammed a clip of bullets into his M 1, hearing the sounds of battle coming from the direction of Fox Company, which was beside George Company and the recon platoon.
"Let's go, recon platoon!” he yelled. "Move it out!”
The recon platoon joined Bannon, their eyes sleepy and their helmets crooked on their heads. They heard Japs screaming and shouting banzai while machine guns stuttered into the night. The mortars had stopped firing, and everybody figured the Japs were already on top of Fox Company.
The GIs charged through the jungle. Everywhere they looked they saw other GIs, all heading toward Fox Company. Behind them they could hear the shouts of more GIs. The entire battalion was swinging to the right to meet the Japanese threat head-on.
Bannon galloped through the jungle and saw men in foxholes, firing machine guns and rifles. Before them were Japs pouring through the jungle, not more than twenty yards away. The Japs brandished rifles and bayonets and howled like wild animals as the soldiers from Fox Company cut down their front ranks, but still the Japs kept coming.
Bannon jumped into a foxhole in which two soldiers were firing rifles at the Japs. One was big and the other slight, and Bannon blinked his eyes as he recognized the big soldier as Sergeant Page, the one he'd had the beef with a few weeks earlier.
“What you looking at!” Sergeant Page bellowed. “The Japs are over there!”
Bannon laid his rifle on the parapet and fired at a Jap ten yards in front of him. The Jap tripped and fell to the ground, a bullet through his neck. Bannon moved his rifle a few inches to the right and fired again. That Jap dropped to his knees and tumbled over, a bullet in his gut. Bannon fired at a third Jap and hit him in the leg, but the Jap kept running as if nothing had happened.
"Pull back!” shouted Captain Leach. "Retreat.’”
The GIs backed out of their foxholes, and the Japs charged into their midst. The Jap with the bleeding leg ran at Bannon, and Bannon fired a shot from the w
aist, but the bullet whizzed harmlessly past the Jap, who lunged with his rifle and bayonet at Bannon.
Bannon raised his own rifle and bayonet, barely managing to parry the blow. The Jap crashed into Bannon, and both of them fell to the ground. Their rifles between them, they punched each other and tried to gouge out each other's eyes. Fighting frantically and desperately, they rolled over and over, clawing at each other. Bannon closed his eyes in the nick of time as the Jap's fingernail scratched over his eyelid. Bannon jabbed his thumb into the Jap's Adam's apple, and the Jap gagged. The Jap swung wildly at Bannon, who grabbed his wrist, pulled, and kneed the Jap in the balls.
“Ugh!” said the Jap.
Bannon kneed him again, and the Jap nearly fainted from the pain. Then Bannon jumped up, grabbed his rifle, and stabbed the Jap in the chest. As he was pulling his bayonet out, something hit him in the head. The next thing Bannon knew he was on the ground, looking up at a Japanese bayonet streaking toward him. He rolled over quickly, picked up an empty C ration can, jumped to his feet, and threw the can at the Jap, who ducked.
Bannon dived and grabbed the Jap's rifle, giving a mighty tug, pulling it away from the Jap, and then shooting the butt forward, smashing the Jap in the mouth. Eight teeth were knocked into the Jap's throat and he sagged toward the ground. Bannon got set to run him through when a bullet whizzed past his nose. He turned around and saw a Jap aiming a Nambu pistol toward him. Bannon didn't know whether to shit or go blind. He thought the party was over.
Something rose in the air behind the Jap and came down. It was the Reverend Billie Jones holding his rifle by the barrel and swinging it like a baseball bat. It hit the Jap in the head, cracking his skull apart. The Jap sagged to the ground and Bannon rushed forward, snatching the pistol out of his limp hand. He turned and saw a Jap running toward the back of Private Shaw, who was fighting with another Jap. Bannon raised the Nambu, took aim, and fired. The bullet whizzed past the Jap's nose, who stopped and looked at Bannon. Aiming more carefully this time, Bannon fired again, and the Jap went down to meet his ancestors. Bannon heard footsteps to his right and turned around. Three Japs were running toward him. He aimed, fired, aimed, and fired again. Two of the Japs dropped, but the last one kept running. Bannon aimed and fired when the Jap was only a few feet away. He plugged the Jap in the face, but the Jap's momentum carried him forward. He crashed into Bannon and they both fell down.
