The Long Patrol: World War II Novel (30 page)

He stayed down and pulled his pistol from his holster. He looked up at the ridge, but couldn’t see anything. They were being fired on by their own men. This had to be stopped before anyone was hurt. He looked to his right and saw the man he’d tried to speak to staring at him. He was about to say something when he noticed the dark blood pooling beneath the man’s head.

He peaked his head above the rock he was behind and a bullet slammed into it, sending tiny rock chips into his cheek. He rolled back cussing. The men around him started rising up to take shots at the ridge. It was insanity; a deadly misunderstanding.

He heard Lieutenant Kogi yelling for his men to move forward. Welch stayed down, the last one had been too close. He felt his face and looked at his hand. It came away bloody. He felt his cheek, pulling out embedded pieces of rock. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and held it to his cheek. He’d sit this one out until they either killed one another or realized they were shooting at their own men.

***

Sergeant Carver peered around the rock to watch where his mortar landed. He couldn’t tell if O'Connor’s shot had killed Welch. The others started shooting using only their carbines; picking their shots carefully, making them count. The mortar landed on the leading edge of the Japanese soldiers and he saw two men fly sideways. He went back to the tube and moved it laterally a fraction. He dropped another mortar in, pulled the trigger and watched it arc away. Without waiting for its impact he moved the tube to his left slightly and fired again. He repeated the process three more times, sweeping the mortars across and up and down the exposed Japanese troops.

He put the tube down, picked up the Arisaka and crawled to the edge of the ridge. The men were shooting carefully, knocking soldiers down then pulling back to cover. He laid the barrel on a rock and lined up the iron sights. He’d never shot an Arisaka, but knew the rifle was deadly accurate. He found a target, a soldier trying to get a better look around a rock. He fired and saw the man’s head snap back and out of sight.
Whoever owned this rifle before me had it zeroed perfectly.
He opened both eyes searching for another target and saw a man’s exposed leg. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He cussed at himself and worked the bolt, loading another round. He fired and the leg blossomed red.
He won’t be charging up the hill anytime soon
. He looked to his left and saw O'Connor shooting. The Japanese were getting over their initial surprise and were starting to put more fire out. There were too many for the small force to keep pinned down.

Between shots he yelled at O'Connor, “You get him?”

O'Connor looked behind him and noticed Sgt. Carver. He shrugged, “I had him in my sights. He went down hard, but not sure if he got hit or tripped.”

It wasn’t what Sgt. Carver wanted to hear. He knew he shouldn’t be aiming to kill one man, but he wanted that traitorous bastard dead.

He sighted and shot another soldier who stood up to throw a grenade. It would have been an impossibly long throw.
He
must have aspirations to be a baseball star
. Carver’s shot hit him in the side and he spun, losing the grenade. It dropped feet from him and exploded, sheering his legs from beneath him like twigs splitting. Two of his comrades were caught in the blast, one wounded and screaming, the other lay still.

He saw an officer stand and wave his pistol, exhorting his men to attack. Carver brought him into his sights, but before he could pull the trigger the ground in front of him erupted with incoming bullets. He was forced to cower behind the rock and make himself as small as possible. The shots were flying by him and slamming all around him. He was too exposed. He heard the distinctive ripping sound of a Japanese machine gun opening up. At first he thought it was one they’d captured, but the incoming rounds intensified, walking up and down his line, giving no doubt it was a Japanese owned weapon.

He yelled, “Hooper get on the Nambu and return that fire, now! You too Dunphy.” He backed straight away from the rock sheltering him. The incoming fire was intense, but somehow he found cover without getting hit. He went to his knee mortar and peeked over the rock. The Japanese were up on the right flank charging up the hill. The left side of the Japanese line was laying down covering fire. They’d be overrun in minutes if they didn’t get fire on those advancing troops. He was about to lob some shells their way when he saw a flash in the sky. He looked up and almost whooped when he saw the four Corsairs. He put the knee mortar down and picked up the radio. “Marine high flyers, this is Falcon 6. How copy? Over.”

The calm voice came back immediately. “Five by five Falcon 6. Where you want it? Over.”

“We’re on the ridge facing east. The Japs or coming up the face right at us. Suggest strafing south to North. I’ll pop smoke on our position. Over.” He threw a smoke grenade a few feet behind him and was immediately enveloped.

“That’s affirmative. We have smoke on your position. Keep your heads down. We’ll start with strafing and come around again with some two hundred pounders.”

Carver propped the radio against the rock and yelled, “We’ve got fighters coming in from the south in one minute. Keep your heads down when it comes.”

He looked down the slope. The Japanese were making progress on the right side while the left flank kept up a steady hail of bullets. Dunphy’s machine gun was silent, but Hooper was hammering away, despite the heavy incoming fire. Carver couldn’t see Dunphy. He wondered if he was hit. He scooped up the radio, took a deep breath and ran around the rock in a low crouch. Bullets snapped and buzzed all around him. He felt a sting on his left shoulder, but ignored it. He dove headfirst into Dunphy’s position. He landed on something soft.

Dunphy screamed and lashed out, punching Carver in the belly hard. Carver gritted his teeth and before Dunphy could land another punch yelled, “It’s me, dumbass!”

The hole was barely big enough for both of them. Carver had to expose his legs to get himself upright. Bullets chewed up the ground around the hole, but none found their mark. When he was upright he looked at Dunphy’s dirty face. “You hit?” Dunphy shook his head. “Then why aren’t you on the gun, Goddammit?”

“You said to get down.” As if to punctuate that thought, there was a ripping from their right side. Carver risked a look over the hole and saw the beautiful sight of a gull-winged Marine corps Corsair swooping in, guns blazing. The ground below erupted as the big slugs pounded into the advancing Japanese line. Before Carver ducked back he saw Japanese soldiers being torn apart, thrown back down the hill. He leaned against the back of the hole and looked at Dunphy’s searching eyes. He smiled, “They’re knocking the shit out of ‘em. Stay down, there’s three more coming.”

The first Corsair pulled up and shot into the blue sky. Another was lining up on the now hunkered Japanese soldiers. Captain Malone lined up his sights on the settling dust in front of him. He could see soldiers diving for cover. He held steady, then depressed the trigger on the yoke. The heavy thumping of his six, fifty caliber machine guns shook the Corsair. He used the rudders to swing the Corsair side to side in a yawing motion, spreading out his deadly fire. He saw soldiers being ripped to pieces as his bullets found their marks. The pass only lasted six seconds, but he expended five hundred rounds of high velocity, fifty caliber bullets.

At the end of his pass he pulled up sharply and looked over his shoulder. He could see the dust and jungle foliage floating back to earth. He could see the next Corsair, Lt. Hawkins starting his run. He climbed away and leveled out behind Lt. Emmit. He’d let Emmit lead the attack to gain some much needed experience. When the final Corsair was through with its strafing run and climbing to join up, he keyed his mike, “Nice shooting guys. This time were getting rid of our two hundred pounders. Remember there are friendlies down there, so keep it tight. If you’re not absolutely sure of your shot, don’t take it.” He got “rogers” from the others and pulled in front of Lt. Emmit. He waved as he went by, “I’ll lead the bombing run. Remember to keep your interval.”

He got a terse “Roger,” from Emmit. He could tell the kid thought he was being coddled too much.
Tough shit
.

Sergeant Carver slowly brought his head up and looked down the hill. Nothing was moving. The dirt and dust was settling, but the Japanese he knew were there had disappeared. He knew better than to think they’d all bought it. He called to his men. “Everyone back on your guns, they ain’t finished yet, I guarantee it.”

Dunphy crawled from the bottom of the hole and gave a low whistle, “I don’t see anyone alive down there, Sarge.”

“Get on the gun and be ready. They’ll be coming again.” He heard the radio crackle to life. He brushed the dirt off and acknowledged the flyboys calling.

Captain Malone’s voice was cool and calm, “we’re coming in with two hundred pounders. Stay deep in your holes, Army.”

Sergeant Carver looked at the growing dots off to the south. He yelled to his men. “Flyboys are coming in with some heavy eggs. Stay down.”

***

Welch realized the gunfire from the ridge wasn’t the heavy sound of a Japanese Arisaka rifle, but the popping of the M1 Carbines the Americans had brought. He wondered if the men on the ridge were the same one’s he’d spent the last few weeks with.

After the initial surprise of being fired on, he was happy to see the Japanese troops rallying. From the incoming fire it was obvious there weren’t many soldiers on the ridge. He risked poking his head up and wasn’t shot at. Most of the fire was being directed towards the advancing soldiers. He watched as one of the men running forward suddenly fell to the ground. He didn’t move. The Americans were few, but deadly.

He heard Lt. Kogi yell for his men to cover from the right. Every rifle on the right side seemed to fire at once. Immediately the volume of fire from the ridge subsided. When the Nambu machine gun opened up along with the rifles, the Americans were effectively suppressed. Lieutenant Kogi stood up and exhorted the men around him to advance. The entire left side stood as one and started leaping forward, trying to gain as much ground as possible while there was no incoming fire.

Welch heard the sound of another Nambu machine gun opening up, but this one was shooting down on them. Then there were two. The Americans were using their own weapons against them. The thought enraged him and he went to a knee and fired his pistol towards the ridge. He had no chance of hitting anything at that range, but it made him feel better. He saw better cover to his front, a depression with a medium sized black rock in front of it. It seemed almost custom made for him. He stood and ran to the hole, diving in headfirst. He rolled onto his back, rubbing his shoulder. He’d landed hard. The pain brought his rage under control and he took a deep breath. He thought,
don’t get involved. Let the soldiers take care of it. You’re too valuable to get killed charging a machine gun nest.

He noticed one of the American machine guns had stopped firing. He hoped the shooter had been shot and was dead in his hole. He risked a glance around the rock and saw Kogi’s men making great strides to the top; they’d overrun the Americans in another minute. Then the second American machine gun stopped hammering and the only fire was coming from the Japanese. He wondered if the Americans were trying to make a break for it.

He caught the flash of something out of the corner of his eye, right before the world erupted in violent explosions of sound and debris. He fell to his stomach and heard the ripping sound of a heavy caliber machine gun and the roar of an airplane. He covered up as best he could as the ground in front of him was literally shredded. He heard the screaming and tearing of dying men. It lasted only seconds, but it seemed a lifetime. He was just bringing his head up when another fighter slashed down and strafed. The bullets sliced and whizzed off rocks. He curled into the smallest ball he could and screamed. Two more planes strafed, then it was silent, his ears ringing in the silence.

His screams had descended to whimpers. In the silence he wondered if he were dead. How could anyone survive? But the pain in his shoulder returned and he realized he was alive. He came to a crouch behind the rock and peeked around the side. The scene before him was carnage. Men and parts of men were spread across the slope. The white dust was settling over the dead, giving them a ghostly quality. He looked to where Lt. Kogi had been leading his men. He couldn’t see anyone alive. He looked to the left and saw men cowering. No one was moving.

He shook off the fear and realized they had to get off the slope. The planes would be back for another pass to finish them off. Was Kogi alive? It would be a miracle if he were. He took a deep breath and tried to give a command, but it came out as a squeak. His mouth was too dry to speak. He coughed and gagged and took a drink from his canteen. The briny water coated his throat and tongue and he felt his voice return. He yelled. “Fall back, fall back to the jungle line, now!”

He didn’t wait for them to comply. He took off, bounding down the hill away from the ridge. He heard the grunts and breathing of the men following him. He didn’t stop until he was safely under the canopy of the jungle. twenty men were breathing hard around him, some vomiting and hacking. A sergeant came up to him and said, “Sir, what are your orders?” Welch stood to his full height and turned to the sergeant, who recoiled. “You? I thought you were Lieutenant Kogi. You made us retreat against our orders. You cowardly gaijin.” He swung his machine pistol in an upper cut motion, but Welch was ready. He dodged the blow and brought the butt of his own pistol down hard on the sergeant’s shoulder. He grunted and dropped to one knee, but he wasn’t done yet. He lunged forward trying to get the bigger man off his feet. Welch met his lunge with his knee coming up hard into the sergeants’ chin. He crumpled to the jungle floor just as the position they’d retreated from exploded in a rumbling firestorm.