Battle Cry (40 page)

“Why you dirty bastard, those must be the same two that came after me.”

“Say, I got me forty-six land crabs last night. I think that’s a company record. Fingerbowl, please.”

Tat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat….
Dirt kicked upon the rim of the ridge.

“Japs!”

“The dirty no-good stinking sonofabitch bastards…I ain’t drank my coffee!”

“They must have known we was having hot chow.”

We scattered to our foxholes, grabbed our weapons, and dashed for the ridge.

Danny and the Feathermerchant were dug in the rear near one end of the horseshoe, where it connected with a rifle company by a slim file of sentries. They snatched their Garands and wheeled about toward the ridge for the rest of us. Suddenly Ski stopped.

“Look,” he said to Danny.

“What?”

“There, coming through the grass.”

“Smart sons of bitches—drawing us up to the ridge while they slip one man in on our rear.”

They fell to the deck and lay quietly. A hunched figure sprinted through the tall grass a hundred yards from them. Danny felt a weird tingle in his body…a live Jap, not dead and rotten. This one was moving, moving at him and Ski. The sweat gushed into his eyes as the man weaved closer…two arms, two legs…why does he want to kill me? Maybe he has a girl, a Jap girl like Kathy. I’m not mad at him. They raised their rifles…fifteen yards…got him zero’d in, easy, this will be easy…sitting duck, right through the heart…Suppose my rifle won’t fire?
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The Jap dropped in his tracks.

“You got him,” Ski said. “Did you see that bastard fall?”

Danny sprang to his feet and put his bayonet on his rifle. Cover me, he’s probably wired.” He paced through the knee-high grass, poised. He moved over to the body of the fallen soldier. A stream of blood was pouring from the man’s mouth. Danny shuddered. His eyes were open. The Jap’s hand made a last feeble gesture. Danny plunged the steel into the Jap’s belly. A moan, a violent twitch of his body…. It seemed to Danny that his belly closed tight around the bayonet. Danny tugged at his rifle, it was stuck. He squeezed off a shot, which splattered him with blood and insides of the Jap.
The eyes were still open.
He lifted the gory weapon and with its butt bashed madly again and again until there were no eyes or face or head.

He staggered back to Ski and sat down and wiped his bayonet with his dungaree top.

The firing on the ridge stopped. Andy went to Danny. “I guess this belongs to you,” he said, handing him a Japanese battle flag. “He had it in his helmet. Nice going, Danny.”

He took the token without words, his eyes glued to the flag.

“What’s biting his ass?”

“Lay off,” Ski said, “just lay off.”

CHAPTER 8

“WHERE
is Father McKale? They want him at headquarters,” the switchboard operator said.

“Up with H Company, firing mortars as usual…I’ll send a runner.”

“How come we didn’t move out this morning, Mac?”

“We can’t, the Army retreated.”

“What they do, run into a sniper?”

“Two snipers, ran off and left their machine guns and every goddam thing else. They’re moving one of our battalions to cover the hole.”

“Mail call!”

No, not a dream. Unbelieving, trembling hands ripped at the envelopes. Quiet. Watch the eyes. By now I knew every word their letters said. A grin through a mud-caked lip, a nod of the head, read and reread.

Dear L.Q.,

We put the car up on blocks. We don’t mind though, if it will help you come home sooner.

Dear Son,

Mother and I thought it over carefully. We both would like to buy a home in the city and retire. Thirty years of farming is enough. So, when you return, it is yours.

Dear Andy,

We have heard about where you boys are. Believe me, we watch your every move and we are with you in spirit. We are mighty fond of our Yanks. I’ve been up to the farm twice. Somehow, it doesn’t seem so hard to go now. Hope springs eternal.

It is quite hot, middle of summer, you know….

My dearest Sam,

I found out from Colonel Daner where your Regiment is. Please, my darling, try not to take any chances you don’t have to. I know your boys will come through with flying colors.

Danny Son,

It just wasn’t Christmas at all in Baltimore. I wonder if we really know what you are going through.

Dearest Marion,

I’ve got a job in a department store as a salesgirl. I love it. Your folks have been wonderful to me….

I love you my dearling,

Your Rae

Dear Connie,

I hate to have to tell you this, but we are all afraid for mother. She is sinking fast. The doctor thinks that she might have a chance to live if she really wanted to…

We never did have much at Christmas, but at least we had each other.

I’ve got a boyfriend now, he’s twenty-nine and a soldier…. I just have to quit school and get a job. Uncle Ed is barely making ends meet and with the hospital bills and you gone it is really rough.

Susan moved from town, no one seems to know where. Frankly, I don’t care after what she did to you….

Your sister,
Wanda

“Hey, lookee, Seabags got a carton of cigarettes!”

“Shaddup, you bastard.”

“Cigarettes!”

“O.K., don’t crowd—I’ll keep two packs and you guys can split the rest.”

“What you got there?”

“A money belt.”

“Just what you needed.”

“They’re always sending me money belts. What the hell they think I am, the paymaster?”

“A cake!”

“Hard as rock.”

“It’s better than chewing D-ration. Get the machete and let’s split it up.”

“Chewing gum!”

“Honest to God?”

“Lookit, a hand-knitted necktie.”

“You mean, field scarf, don’t you?”

“This one is a necktie.”

“What you going to do with it?”

“What you think? I’m gonna wear it.”

“Here?”

“Yep, best-dressed gyrene in the regiment.”

As the telephone line to Topeka went in, I secured the radio for the night. I made a check call on the other TBX to the destroyer lying offshore and closed that station too. Sergeant Barry, the telephone chief, came up to me.

“Can you spare me a man, Mac?”

“For why?”

“The line to How Company is out. Cassidy is going to trouble shoot and I need someone to guard him.”

“Seabags!”

“Yo.”

“Go out with Cassidy on the How line and stop spitting that tobacco juice on the deck. It isn’t sanitary.”

“Sure, cousin,” he said as another wad flew out. Brown went to his foxhole, picked up his rifle and hooked a pair of grenades on his suspenders.

“You’ve got to hustle,” Barry said to Red Cassidy. “Get in before dark. The password is Lonely.”

“That’s the fouled-up line that runs in front of our ridge,” I said, “so be careful.”

“How the hell did they ever lay a line in front of us?” Seabags asked.

“It isn’t easy, but we manage. Keep an eye out for pins, Red. The Japs have been shorting us out with them. I’ll be at the switchboard. Give me a test check every couple hundred yards.”

Cassidy, a stocky redheaded Irishman, slammed a cigarette between his lips, picked up the wire and went over the ridge. Seabags paced several feet behind him, his eyes scanning the brush and treetops as they moved. They followed the white marked wire of Topeka White and were soon away from the battalion area.

“How in hell did they lay this goddam line out here?” Seabags repeated.

“We overran the objective and pulled back onto the ridge after the line was laid,” Cassidy explained.

“Christ, sure is quiet out here, cousin.”

Cassidy tested Topeka White and reached them. But he could not get How Company. They moved on till they were at the stream which ran under the reverse slope of the CP knoll. They splashed across and tested once more, then moved for the small clump of trees and brush which lay to the left. Downstream to the right was the big wood full of Japs.

Cassidy raced along the wire running it through his fingers. “I got a feeling we ain’t alone, cousin,” Seabags said. Another test call. Still no How Company.

“Cassidy, lookit.” Seabags pointed to the wire ahead, cut neatly.

“They must have sneaked out of the woods and sliced it.”

“Plumb in two.” They stood near the small clump of trees. Cassidy found the cut end and quickly peeled the wire to make a splice.

Crack! Twang!

“Sniper. Take cover!”

Seabags crouched behind a tree. Cassidy dove in after him.

“See him?”

“No.”

“I’d better get that line back here so I can splice it.” Cassidy took a step and fell to his knees.

“What’s the matter, Red?”

“Must have twisted my ankle diving in here.” Seabags quickly dragged him to better cover and took off his shoe.

“Hurt?”

“Like hell.”

“It’s busted. Hold my rifle and keep your eye on them woods.”

“Where you going?”

“Got to get that line back here and get it spliced.” Seabags dashed out.
Crack! Twang! Rat-a-tat crack!
CRACK! He snatched up the wire and rolled back alongside the telephone man, puffing. “Lousy shots,” he wheezed. “Did you see them?” They both looked at the jungle over the stream. It was very still and very quiet.

“You never see them bastards.”

“They’re there, cousin.” Seabags rolled the friction tape over the wires. “How the hell do you test this, Red?”

The Irishman gritted his teeth. “Screw…one cap on each wire and hook into the test phone…”

“Your ankle bad?”

“It’s starting to swell.”

Seabags tested into the command post and then into How Company. The circuit was at last complete. “Hold on a minute, Seabags,” the CP said, “Sam wants to talk to you.”

“Hello, Seabags, this is Sam Huxley.”

“Howdy, Sam.”

“Where was the break?”

“The little bunch of trees over the stream. They must have sneaked over the creek and clipped it because it’s the only part of the line that runs close to them. They can’t tap it as long as we’re down here—who the hell laid this line here, anyhow? Surer than hell they’ll cut it again, soon as it turns dark. You’d better run another line to How.”

At the CP, Huxley consulted the Gunner and Sergeant Barry. “We can’t get another line laid. It’s getting dark and there’s a gully between us and How, probably full of Japs.”

“Ain’t that just peachy,” Seabags moaned. “I got a hurt boy here too.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Cassidy’s ankle’s broke. The bone looks about ready to bust through the skin. He’s in gawd-awful misery.”

A wild train of thoughts raced through Huxley’s mind. The line had to be kept open. There was no time either now or at dawn to get another one in before the attack on the woods. That wire was to direct a walking curtain of mortar fire from the stream to the woods. At dawn the Tenth Marines’ artillery and the destroyer were going to blast the woods apart and planes from Henderson Field would rake it clean. The two boys were only a hair away from the line of fire.

Huxley’s eyes narrowed, he clenched his teeth and felt the breath of the men around him on the back of his neck. “Can you guard that line against another break?” he asked Seabags harshly.

“Sure, if they don’t slit our throats first, Sam.”

The decision made, Huxley quickly followed up. Watches were synchronized and he ordered a test call to be made every half hour. “You’ve got to stay till the last possible minute. Shove off at zero five five eight—that will give you two minutes,” he said.

“We’ll never be able to get up that slope, Sam. We’ll have to try to follow the stream to the beach.”

“Good luck.”

“Sam, tell Speedy not to worry about that fin he owes me.”

Huxley put the receiver back in its case and turned to the anxious faces about him. “They’re trapped,” he said, “but they can hold the line open to mortars…. Well, break it up, dammit. Don’t stare. There’s nothing we can do.”

“How’s the ankle?” Seabags whispered.

“I don’t even feel it any more,” Red Cassidy answered.

“Sure is still.”

“I’m dying for a cigarette.”

“Sure glad I chaw tobacco.” He spat. “Care for some?”

“Makes me puke.”

“Sure is quiet…where you from anyhow, Red?”

“Detroit.”

“Go on, get some sleep…I’m wide awake.”

“I can’t sleep. Suppose they’ll try to jump us?”

“Never can tell about them there things…. I’m from Iowa, myself. Black Hawk County, some of the best damned farm land in the world. My old man is retiring after the war…turning over a hundred and sixty acres to me…”

“
Owwwwwww,
God.”

“What’s it?”

“Nothing. I just tried to move my leg…it’s O.K. as long as I don’t touch it.”

They propped themselves up, back to back, and cradled their rifles in their laps.

“Yes sir, a hundred and sixty acres….”

“Sure is quiet….”

It was three hours later. “Better not check no more for a while, cousin, they’re rustling over the stream looking for us,” Seabags said and put the phone away. He helped Cassidy into a prone position. They looked into the black ahead of them. The brush over the stream was crackling with movement. “Don’t shoot, even if they hit the stream,” Seabags whispered. “I’ll try to jump them….”

A high-pitched voice cried out in the darkness, “Marine, you die!”

“Bastards.”

“Lay still, Red.”

“Marine…you die!”

“Yellow son of a—” Seabags clamped his hand over Cassidy’s mouth.

“They’re just trying to rattle you into shooting, now lay still.”

“Dirty Marine, you die, Marine, you die…fugg you, yellow Marine…fugg Babe Ruth…Marine, you die!”

“I’ll show those stinking…I’m going after them.”