The Long Patrol: World War II Novel (7 page)

He sat on the side of the cot and felt dizzy. He held his head and rubbed his temples until the world stopped spinning. When it did the nausea came and he threw up whatever food, mostly bile, that was left in his stomach. He ignored the others and stood up. He swayed and had to sit down to keep from falling over. The jarring caused more pain, but the pain focused his resolve. He used it to stand again and walk. Each step brought more pain and with it more focus. The nausea was gone, replaced by sheer purpose. He went through the medical tent flap and was immediately greeted by a medic. “Whoa, soldier where you think you’re going?”

O'Connor looked at him with daggers, “Where’s my weapon?” The medic backed up a step, seeing his dark glare. He glanced behind him at a stack of rifles against a fallen palm tree. O'Connor pushed his way by him and grabbed the first rifle. He pulled back the breech; it was loaded with a full eight round clip. He slammed the breech forward with a satisfying click. Beyond the weapons he saw ammo satchels. He slung the first one over his shoulder and started walking towards the sound of falling mortars.

He took it slow since running was out of the question. He was barely able to walk a straight line, but the louder the explosions got the more sure-footed he became. He’d walked one hundred yards when he tripped on a root and sprawled. He hit hard, knocking the breath out of him. The pain was more than anything he’d ever felt and he thought he might pass out. If the Japanese came they’d bayonet him where he lay, but at least he’d have his rifle. If he was going to die he’d like to have a gun in his hand, not a wad of bandages.

He felt hands under his arms pulling him up. He came back to reality and got to his feet. He looked at the man who’d helped him; it was Corporal Hooper. He smiled at him, “Hooper. Where’d you come from?”

He motioned behind them, “I was back at the damned infirmary too. When I saw you limp by I figured you could use some backup. That medic gave me some trouble, but I finally convinced him.” He rubbed his knuckles, they were scratched.

From the front they heard their own mortars countering the Japanese then the chatter of thirty caliber machine gun fire. They looked at one another, “Sounds like an attack,” said Hooper. They held onto each other as they limped towards the fighting. They couldn’t see the front line yet, but they could see the entire Marine air squadron launching from Henderson field. O'Connor wondered if there were bombers coming or they were simply getting out of harm’s way.

The gunfire from the front was one solid sound. There was no pause, no single shots, just the constant sound of concentrated fire coming in and going out.

They were halfway to the front line when stray bullets started smacking trees and whizzing by like angry bees. They started using the downed trees and bomb craters for cover as they went forward. No use getting hit way back here without getting into the fight.

They got to a large bomb crater at the eastern edge of the runways and poked their heads up. O'Connor was still a bit fuzzy from the pain, but he could see the Japanese were in amongst the company’s slit trenches and foxholes. As he watched soldiers started coming out of their holes and engaging hand to hand. He could see the gleaming steel of bayonets from here. His gut turned, thinking what his comrades were facing. Hand to hand combat was the most terrifying thing he could think of on the battlefield. The thought of having to do it in his condition almost made him sick again.

A bullet snapped, O'Connor hunkered down, but Hooper thumped him on the shoulder, “See that hole? The one straight in front of us?” O'Connor lifted his head and nodded, “If we can get to that I think we’ll have a good line of sight on these suckers, be able to lend some firepower.”

O'Connor nodded and launched himself out of the hole. Crouching was too painful so he stayed upright and shuffled as fast as he could to the hole, Hooper right on his tail. They threw themselves into cover. They doubted any Japs would be paying attention to two injured soldiers behind the line, but there were so many stray bullets around they could easily be hit.

The exertion and their wounds took their breath away. When they were ready they crawled to the top of the crater and peered over the lip. They brought their rifles up. It was a good firing platform. The hole wasn’t deep. It provided cover, but didn’t force them to fight to keep from falling to the bottom. They searched for targets, but found the scene too confused. It was difficult to discern the enemy from friendlies. They couldn’t shoot without possibly hitting one of their own guys.

Hooper nudged him, “If any bust through, we’ll pop ‘em.” O'Connor nodded and watched the scene over the sights of his M1. Every fiber of his being wanted to jump up and join the fight, but he knew he’d be a liability in his wounded state. He wouldn’t last ten seconds against an uninjured enemy.

They watched the gruesome battle in frustration without firing a shot. O'Connor watched men die, Americans and Japanese alike. He felt guilty, but deep down he was also relieved not be involved in that hell. Hooper said, “To the right, see those guys, they’ve busted through.” O'Connor swung his rifle and found the targets. Five or six Japanese were past the line of foxholes and slit trenches and were running towards the rear. “Bastards are heading for the hospital, they’ll butcher those guys.”

O'Connor found his target and tracked him as he ran. They were sixty yards away and running from left to right. He’d have to lead them like a sprinting deer. He pulled the trigger, but his man kept on running, albeit a bit faster. O'Connor adjusted and fired again. This time the man went down. He fired at the next man and brought him down with three shots. Hooper got to the end of his clip, the “ping” seeming to echo. He’d dropped a man too.

There were three more, but they dropped and found cover searching for the unknown shooters. O'Connor saw a pith helmet pop out of a depression in the ground, probably another bomb crater. He shot, but missed sending the helmet back out of sight. He opened the breech and saw he only had one more shot. He popped out the remaining bullet and loaded another eight round clip being careful not to catch his thumb in the breech.

He brought the M1 to his shoulder again and searched where he’d seen the man. “Where are they?” asked Hooper.

“About seventy yards out.” He pointed, “They’re in a some kind of depression, I saw his helmet, but missed.”

Hooper went up on a knee to get a better look. The air beside his ear ripped with a near miss. He dropped down, “Shit, that was close.” He lay on his back and took a deep breath, “They’re maneuvering on us, trying to flank us.” He rolled onto his stomach, “You stay here, I’ll go to the other side of the hole in case they come up that side. If you see something, sing out.”

O'Connor didn’t like the fact they were being hunted like the wounded animals they were. He thought he saw movement where the helmet had been. He gripped his rifle and waited. Suddenly a Japanese soldier was up and running off to his right. He swung on the man, but by the time he was pulling the trigger he was already in another closer hole. The original spot he’d been looking at was now empty. He’d fallen for the bait and now he had no idea where the other soldiers were.

“You saw that guy, right?” he said to Hooper.

“Yeah, but he got cover before I could shoot. You get him?”

“Nah, too quick, I think he was bait for the other guys to move. I don’t know where they are.”

“You got any grenades?”

“Nope, wish I did, but left the hospital in a hurry.”

“If those nips get much closer they’ll be able to lob grenades at us, we gotta get the upper hand.”

O'Connor looked around the hole there wasn’t much to it, but off to his left the ground rose up slightly. He wondered if he’d have a better view from there. “I’m moving over to that mound, see what I can see.” Hooper didn’t answer. O'Connor slipped backwards ignoring the pain of his burnt legs scraping over the dirt. He rolled to his left until he was abreast of the high ground then crawled up until his head was just beneath the horizon. He reached up and pulled a dirt clod down, then another until he’d created a V shaped slot to look through. He slid his rifle through the slot, moving it almost imperceptibly forward.

When he was in position he pulled himself up to the rifle and looked down the sights. He almost cried out. Two hulking Japanese soldiers were twenty yards away hunched over making their way down a slight depression caused by monsoon rains. They were almost upon them. O'Connor had a perfect shot. He pulled the stock into his shoulder and shot through his eight rounds in seconds. The Japanese didn’t have a chance and never knew what hit them. The thirty caliber bullets tore into the front man and continued through the second man finally stopping in the stinking mud of Guadalcanal.

O'Connor didn’t have time to celebrate. He felt the thunk of a bullet beside his head. He was sprayed with dirt and rocks. He knew the next shot would kill him, but he couldn’t make himself move. The welcome sound of Hoopers’ rifle sang out. Then Hooper yelled, “I got him, I got that Jap son-of-a-bitch.”

O'Connor rolled to the bottom of the hole and tried to control his breathing. It was coming in short spurts, he was hyperventilating. The near miss had him shaken. If he hadn’t changed positions they would’ve killed them with grenades or just come over the top and riddled them with bullets. He closed his eyes and got control of himself.

Hooper hobbled over and went up to the lip O'Connor had just abandoned. “Holy shit, you laid those suckers out.” He got onto his knees, “Looks like the battle’s over. Looks like a scene out of Dante or something.” He dropped his rifle to the ground, “Bodies everywhere. We better go help.”

O'Connor didn’t hear his last words as he’d passed out. His body and mind had done what were asked, but now the stress and his injuries took control and he slipped into a black dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER SIX

O'Connor regained consciousness back at the aid station. His head felt like it was being crushed between two vises. He stared at the green tent ceiling illuminated by low light. It was dark out. He heard movement beside him, someone was sitting next to him. He tried to look, but even the slight movement made him cringe. “Who’s there?”

A face came into view, looming over him. “Hey, it’s me, your foxhole mate.”

O'Connor was surprised. He wouldn’t have believed Dunphy could survive the attack. “What are you doing here? Where am I? What’s happening?”

“You’ve been out for a couple hours I guess. Hooper brought you back here then found the platoon. That’s how I knew where you were. You’re back at the aid station.”

O'Connor closed his eyes. “Are you wounded?”

“Nah, not really, couple scratches. After the attack they pulled our platoon off the line. Guess they thought we needed some rest.” He gestured behind him, but in the low light it was lost on O'Connor, “We’re camped over there, near where we landed.”

“What you doing here?”

“Like I said, I was in the area. Thought I’d check on you. Something wrong with a guy checking on his squad-mate?”

O'Connor forced his head to look over, “No, guess not. Just didn’t figure you’d be the one to do it.”

Dunphy stood up and slung his rifle. He picked up his helmet and put it on. “Yeah well, I wasn’t doing anything else.”

As he walked out O'Connor said, “Hey, Dunphy.” He stopped and looked back, “Thanks for stopping by.” Dunphy nodded and walked back to his bivouac area.

***

The Japanese Air Force bombed the airfield again that night, but the sound and rumble seemed distant and far away, almost harmless. O'Connor opened his eyes at first light, feeling like he’d slept for days. He felt good for the first time in a long while. He figured he got eight or nine hours of sleep, which didn’t seem like nearly enough, but his body felt good.

A medic was working on the man beside him. He got his attention. “Hey, when am I getting out of here?”

The medic startled and looked at him, “Damn, you’re finally awake. Never seen anyone able to sleep through so much noise. Thought something was wrong with you. Thought maybe you’d gone into a coma or something.”

O'Connor sat up on his elbows, “What’re you talking about? I just fell asleep a couple hours ago.”

The medic grinned and shook his head. He came over and lifted the blanket to look at his burns. “You’ve been asleep for two days. The battle was three days ago. You’ve slept through four air raids and one naval bombardment. Pretty damned impressive.”

O'Connor shook his head, “What? I’ve gotta get outta here. Where’s my unit? I’ve gotta rejoin my unit.”

“Well your wounds aren’t healed, but between you sleeping and the burn salve, it’s looking pretty good. You can stay another couple days, but if you wanted to go now I’ll bet the doc will approve.”

O'Connor whipped the sheets off and swung to a sitting position. When his feet hit the floor he felt dizzy. He put his head in his hands and waited for the world to stop spinning. “Take it easy. Your body took a hit, so take it slow or you’ll end up back here in a hurry.” He went to the foot of the cot and handed him his pants. “That stunt you pulled, you know during the attack? Pretty stupid.” He pointed to another medic making rounds down the other aisle, “Gerry said you and that corporal, the one gave me this,” he pointed to the remnants of a black eye, “Killed some nips coming straight for the aid station. Said you two probably saved our bacon.”