The Long Patrol: World War II Novel (34 page)

With fumbling fingers they put the Nambu together. The knee mortar didn’t require any assembly; it was ready to go. They slunk back to their holes and the native signaled they should sleep while he kept watch. Carver and O'Connor fell to the bottom of their holes and were asleep in seconds.

***

Colonel Sinclair and General Thornton leaned over the map spread before them on the rickety table. Neither man had slept in the past twenty four hours and wouldn’t for the foreseeable future. It was the middle of the night, but the temperature had only gone down three degrees from the height of the day. Beads of sweat dripped from their noses. Colonel Sinclair pointed at an area with tight contour lines. “This is the ridge we suspect the guns are on. It’s steep and inhospitable, but reconnaissance flights show a possible area where the guns could be hidden.”

General Thornton nodded. “Did they see any guns or is it just guess work?”

“The jungle’s too thick to even see the ground.” The General stared at him, “It’s guess work. We don’t have any hard evidence.”

Thornton slammed his fist onto the table sending pieces across the map like a petulant child losing a board game. “Still no word from that sergeant of ours?”

Colonel Sinclair shook his head. “Nothing since the air strikes they called in yesterday. It may be their radio malfunctioned. The Marine pilots said they had good hits on the target. Whether they’re KIA or out a radio, the outcome’s the same on our end.”

Thornton watched the Lieutenant putting the pieces back to the appropriate spots on the map. “How’s our timeline? The men getting into position okay?”

Colonel Sinclair nodded. “Yes Sir, things are moving smoothly and on time. We should have everyone in place in another hour.”

General Thornton looked at his watch then back at the Colonel. “I want the timeline moved up. I want our boys attacking before dawn. Let’s not wait. Maybe it’ll throw off the Jap’s shooting if they can’t see us, get our boys in amongst their troops quicker.”

Colonel Sinclair didn’t like last minute changes, but he understood the logic. “I’ll pass it along. What time you want the attack to begin?”

General Thornton looked at his watch and made the caluculation. “They’ll be in place in an hour, that’s 03:30. Let’s move the takeoff time to 0415. That should be enough buffer for any unknowns popping up.” He grinned, “Gotta give old Murphy his due.”

Colonel Sinclair smiled, “yes Sir. No doubt he’ll rear his ugly head somewhere.”

***

It seemed like only seconds had passed, but O'Connor and Carver had slept two hours before the native awoke them. It only took his voice to wake Sgt. Carver, but O'Connor had to be poked and prodded before he opened his eyes. Neither man was happy; they felt more sore than they’d been before napping. O'Connor took a swig of water, swished it around and spit it onto the ground. “My mouth tastes like I ate a shit sandwich.”

Sergeant Carver took a swig and swallowed. He only grunted. The native was crouched beside Carver’s hole. Carver reached out and touched him, “Anything happening down there?” the native looked at him with a blank stare. In the darkness, Carver could see the whites of his eyes. He pointed towards the jungle then shrugged trying to get his question across. The native seemed to understand. He shook his head, but pointed to the east. It was still dark, but there was a tiny hint of the coming day. Carver looked at his watch and was surprised to see it was 0400. Morrisey wanted to begin his attack a little before light, at 0500.

Sergeant Carver got out of his hole and went to where the natives had placed the knee mortar. There was a neat stack of 12 shells beside it. It was still too dark to see his target despite the native pointing it out.

O'Connor set up the machine gun in the crook of two boulders. He sat behind the gun and worked on digging out a comfortable sitting position in the dirt. He swung the gun’s barrel side to side and up and down. He would be aiming down, having to elevate his arms to get the proper angle. He adjusted his spot until he could do so with ease.

Now they waited. The night was quiet except for the constant chatter of jungle birds, insects and animals.

The time passed slowly. The night seemed to linger. The hint of light grew in the east as the morning threatened to break, but slowly. A half hour passed and the jungle noise stopped abruptly, like a light switch being turned off. The world seemed to hold it’s breath. Carver and O'Connor felt the tension in the air like something big and unknown was about to happen. O'Connor pivoted his gun back and forth, traversing the lightening jungle. Different shades of green started to separate themselves from the darkness. He thought he could see the clearing below where his target lay hidden, but he couldn’t be sure.

Off to the east there was a muted chattering of gunfire. The sky lit up with flashes, the low rumble of explosives reached them. Carver adjusted the mortar tube and whispered between clenched teeth, “This is it. Wait for Morrisey to start things off. We’re still early, looks like our guys are starting things.” O'Connor nodded and raised the brim of his floppy jungle hat. He checked the ammo sticking out the side of the Nambu machine gun. He glanced to the stack of ammo at his side and took a deep breath. The native, whose name they learned was Enops, laid beside him propping his ancient Enfield rifle on a rock and jamming the stock into his bare shoulder. O'Connor looked where he was aiming and tried to see his target. He angled his barrel to follow the same trajectory.

The flashes and gunfire became more frequent to the east. There was no way of knowing who had the upper hand, only that a lot of ordnance was being expended. The guns below remained silent. A light appeared and O'Connor’s heart skipped a beat. He adjusted his aim. The Japanese artillery unit wasn’t as far away as he thought. He hunched although he knew they had no chance of spotting him even if they were looking. More lights appeared, extending into the jungle. The Japanese were waking up, alerted by the long awaited American attack.

Carver saw the activity, but knew things were happening quicker than Morrisey had expected. He wondered if he was in position yet. If the guns opened up before Morrisey attacked he’d have to make a choice whether to attack himself. Every round that went out would kill American soldiers; he couldn’t let that happen. He grabbed a mortar shell, pulled the safety off and dropped it into the tube. He adjusted the range dial and put the floating bubble in the center. He wrapped the lanyard trigger around his finger. If the big guns opened up he wouldn’t wait.

Flashes from the sea caught his attention; they were continuous and huge. He wondered whose navy held the advantage this morning. He didn’t have long to wait as the big naval shells rocketed toward the Japanese rear and exploded with bright flashes far below him, marking the headquarters area. He wished he could call those guns onto the artillery position below him. Maybe they’d see the artillery muzzle flashes and redirect their fire. He shook his head knowing the Japanese were too well camouflaged. If not, they would have been spotted and destroyed long ago.

Out of the darkness there was a much closer flash followed immediately by seven more rippling down the line of Japanese artillery. The flashes were much closer than Carver had anticipated. His night vision was ruined, but he didn’t hesitate. He pulled the lanyard and was rewarded with the soft thump of a departing shell. The smell of hot cordite filled his nostrils and he reached for another shell.

O'Connor heard the mortar leave the tube and aimed down the barrel of the Nambu. He put the barrel just below closest flash and depressed the trigger. He shot a short burst, watching his tracers streak into the jungle. He adjusted and gave them a longer burst, walking his fire back. Another flash of fire from the big guns almost took his night vision, but he had one eye shut preserving some vision.

He saw Sgt. Carver’s first mortar round explode near the second gun. The flash was tiny compared with the 105mm guns long tongue of flame, but the flash was enough to light up Japanese troops being flung backwards. He increased his rate of fire, knowing his own muzzle flash would be seen and he’d start taking incoming fire. He hoped Morrisey and his merry band would attack soon or his position would be inundated with fire.

***

The flashes from the west and the rumble that accompanied it pushed Morrisey’s timetable up. He’d been advancing slowly from his night bivouac position, but now his men were moving quicker. It would only be a matter of time before the artillery opened up on the hapless Americans. His original plan had been to attack the unit when they were still sleeping, catching them by surprise, but now he’d have to attack a fully alert force of unknown size. His only advantage would be the fact that they’d be busy working the artillery pieces not looking for attackers.

He was minutes from his takeoff point when the guns opened up with a deafening roar. The 105mm blast shook the men to their core, the percussion shaking their bodies, striking fear into them. He’d hoped to move his men to the side and attack from the thick jungle barrier that kept the artillery hidden. He had to reassess when he saw tracer fire arcing down from the ridge above them. Sergeant Carver and Private Dunphy weren’t waiting for his attack. He saw a mortar round explode near the second gun, then more tracer fire sweeping along the guns.

Morrisey kept his men moving, not wanting to get hit by friendly fire. The fire from the ridge would take attention away from his men. They were running to get north of the Japanese position when another round of artillery went out. The men flattened instinctively, as the big shells ripped over their heads. He had them up quickly and moved them into position. He did a quick head count; they were all there.

He broke them into two units. He’d lead his twenty men to the east and Chief Ahio would lead his men against the guns in the front. He knew he could trust Ahio; he had a debt to pay. He’d sacrifice his life and the life of his men to renew his honor. Before splitting, he told Ahio to wait for his attack. Ahio nodded and melted into the jungle with his men.

Using the jungle, Morrisey moved down to the last gun. The Japanese troops charged with protecting the guns were shifting to the south towards the incoming fire from the ridge. They were returning fire up and down the line, keeping their attackers pinned down. Mortars kept raining down, but the machine gun fire had dwindled. He heard the occasional crack of a rifle from the ridge. He’d sent Enops because he was his best marksman. He was sure with every crack of the rifle a Japanese soldier was dying. More and more Japanese soldiers were moving away from the big guns, leaving them exposed.

The darkness was lifting and Morrisey could clearly see the Japanese artillery crews working like a well-oiled machine. They were in a rhythm; load, clear, fire, eject. They were putting shells out faster and faster. Their professionalism keeping them focused on the job at hand and not on their dangerously exposed flank.

Morrisey wanted his men to use grenades. The natives each had two. Each man put his rifle down and got ready to throw. Morrisey waited thirty seconds. He watched the rhythm of the firing and threw his grenade at the instant right before the artillery lanyard would be pulled. His timing was perfect. The grenades went off amongst the seventh and eighth guns just as they fired, the sound masking the smaller bang of the grenades. Japanese soldiers were flung against the guns and shredded with shrapnel. Morrisey grabbed his second grenade and hurled it towards the line of soldiers backs firing on the ridge. His men followed suit. Without waiting, Morrisey unslung his M1 Carbine and charged from the jungle. He fired from the hip, killing the remaining crew on the eighth gun. His men fired, working their bolt action rifles as quick as they pulled the trigger.

Ahio and his men assaulted the front two guns hurling grenades and firing their Enfield’s with devastating effect. Within a minute, four of the eight guns were out of commission. The Japanese soldiers assaulting O'Connor and Carver were oblivious to the threat. Morrisey moved his men up the line toward the middle guns which were still firing in their rhythm. The guns were their only focus; they were oblivious to the attacking natives.

A loader picked up a 105mm round and was shuffling it to be loaded when he saw a gun barrel flash behind him. He looked and saw dark shapes moving amongst the big guns. They were shooting small arms. He realized they were being attacked and he shouted a warning seconds before his head snapped back with the impact of a bullet. The shell dropped from his hands and crushed his foot. He was beyond caring.

Lieutenant Tomeo heard the man’s cry and looked up in time to see his head snap back. He was stunned as he was sprayed with blood and brains. His mouth hung open, trying to comprehend what had happened. He was using his Samurai sword to direct his men. It had been his father’s and his father’s before him, a family heirloom.

Rage filled him as he realized what was happening. He raised the sword and screamed a battle cry, running towards the dark shapes. He was closing on a shirtless black man, a native, he realized. The man saw him coming and raised his rifle in time to deflect the sword blow. Tomeo raised it to strike him down, but was thrown back as three bullets slammed into his chest. He saw the native he’d tried to kill reach down and pick up the ancient sword. Rage filled his chest, but his body wouldn’t react to his dying brain’s impulse. His eyes glazed over and there was only darkness.

Ahio’s man lifted the sword and smiled. He went to Ahio who was putting a fresh magazine into his Carbine and held the sword out to him. Ahio nodded and tested the sword. He swung it side to side. He slung his rifle and pointed to the backs of the Japanese soldiers still firing on the ridge. They’d notice their artillery wasn’t firing, so they had to attack while they still had surprise on their side. Ahio raised his new sword and ran towards the Japanese line. His men followed firing as they went, shooting the soldiers in the back.