The 164th Regiment Series Boxset

by Chris Glatte

  Every forest was slightly different, and the same held true for jungles. The jungle on Guadalcanal had become like a second home to him, then the more paradise like jungles of Fiji had become the same, and now he was in another jungle and felt like a visitor from another planet.

  Things were the same, but there were differences. The night birds were different, the soft eerie glow of Mount Bagana, was different, even the soft ground felt different. O’Connor used every sense trying to come to terms with the newness. His progress was slow.

  It took almost two hours to travel less than a quarter mile, but they arrived safely and quietly. Corporal O’Connor stopped at the point where the sniper had killed Henry and sent Bennett home with a sucking chest wound. He crouched and heard Sergeant Carver come up beside him. He put a hand on O’Connor’s shoulder. He nodded, indicating he agreed they were in the correct position.

  Carver signaled to the men, and they silently spread out. Sergeant Carver helped the two men with the thirty caliber find and set up in a spot with good cover and a clear shot down the trail. It took only minutes for the rest of the men to set up.

  O’Connor put himself in the center of the ambush next to Private Willy and Denn. Private Willy had been with the 164th Regiment since they landed on Guadalcanal. He was a veteran who’d seen as much combat as O’Connor and Carver. Private Denn, on the other hand, was a replacement. He’d joined the regiment on Fiji. He’d proved himself a good soldier but he was still young and green, and O’Connor wanted to stay close to him in case he decided to shoot at ghosts and give away their position.

  The night seemed to have weight as they laid there waiting for something to happen. They’d been keyed up when they first arrived, but after an hour, the newness and even some of the terror had worn off. Some of the men’s eyes were getting heavy.

  O’Connor noticed Private Denn start to nod off and he nudged him in the ribs. He leaned close and whispered in his ear, “It’s a dereliction of duty to fall asleep during an ambush.”

  Private Denn jolted and repositioned himself. “What’s that word mean?”

  “It means I’ll kick your skinny ass if you fall asleep out here. Stay alert.”

  The jungle went quiet then suddenly the sky opened up like a faucet, and within seconds every member of the squad was soaked. They scrambled to open their packs and pulled out ponchos. O’Connor shivered despite having been in a lathering sweat only a minute before. This is a damned cluster-fuck.

  The rain hammered them for an hour then tapered to a slow soaking drizzle. The ground beneath their prone bodies started to feel more like a marsh than ground, and they slowly sank into the stink.

  The ponchos kept most of the water out, but they also kept the wetness and heat trapped inside creating a mini-weather system. Instead of shivering they were now sweltering. O’Connor felt like he was being broiled alive.

  Staying alert and vigilant was difficult. The darkness and the rain made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them. O’Connor thought a whole company of Japs could be walking by them and unless they stepped on him, he’d never know. He glanced over at Private Denn. His eyes were drooping, and he was trying his best to stay awake, but it looked like a losing battle. He decided to let it slide. One more set of eyes in this gloom wouldn’t help much. At least someone should get some shuteye.

  Fifteen minutes later the rain stopped, and the only sound was the dripping of water off palm fronds. Even the animals hadn’t come out from cover, the night was quiet and calm. O’Connor thought it beautiful the way the jungle seemed to cleanse itself. Slowly, one by one, sounds of insects, then animals started to come alive again.

  He strained to see into the night. Without the rain, he could make out shapes twenty yards down the trail, trees, and thick foliage. The trail itself seemed to glisten with a slight sheen of wetness. He glanced at Denn, who was obviously asleep. He looked to Private Willy on his other side. It was hard to see his eyes, he had his helmet and poncho pulled so far down, but he figured the veteran was aware, if not wholly awake.

  He was about to nudge him when he heard a different sound, a splash, like a boot in water. He saw Private Willy tense and his head moved to look down the trail, towards the sound. O’Connor followed his gaze, moving his head slow, careful not to attract attention.

  As far as he could see down the trail, there was nothing new. Then a black shape appeared, stepping onto the shimmering path. O’Connor knew it was an enemy soldier and he was only twenty yards away moving towards him. He brought his M1 to his shoulder and put the iron sights where he thought the man’s chest should be. He licked his lips in anticipation.

  Sergeant Carver was off to his left and further forward, near the thirty caliber machine gun. He knew the old veteran would be lining up his shot, keeping the nervous machine gun crew from firing too early. O’Connor kept his sights on the front soldier, but out of the corner of his eye tried to count how many more soldiers stepped onto the trail.

  He figured he’d seen at least ten when the night erupted in sound and fire. Long tongues of flame lanced out from the thirty caliber, sending tracer fire into the Japanese soldiers at almost point blank range. The man in O’Connor’s sights was no longer there, blown down with withering fire but he fired on the spot anyway, knowing there were more soldiers behind him. His eyes burned from the sudden light show. He couldn’t see targets, only blurry outlines of darting soldiers. He shot at them until he couldn’t find anymore.

  The firing all around him continued. Private Denn had woken from his slumber and was waving his rifle around with wild eyes. O’Connor reached out and grabbed the weapon, keeping it from swinging into friendly troops. It took only a second for Denn to get control of himself. He ripped the gun from O’Connor’s grasp and looked at him with saucer eyes. O’Connor didn’t think the human eye could have so much white.

  He heard Sergeant Carver yelling, “Cease fire! Cease fire!” The men got control of themselves, and the onslaught of sound and fire stopped.

  The night’s darkness swept back in shutting out the light like a thick blanket covering a candle’s delicate flame. The night sounds were absent, but all the men could hear was the ringing in their ears. The first sound Corporal O’Connor heard was the moaning of a wounded enemy soldier. He hadn’t heard the sound since Guadalcanal where it had been as common as the rain. That sound, a dying man, was as unique to combat as crying babies were to nurseries. O’Connor suppressed a chill running up his spine as he reacquainted himself with the ugliness of his job.

  He gave Private Denn a scathing look which he doubted he could see. He went to his knees holding his M1 at the ready. He’d instinctively closed one eye when the shooting started preserving some of his night vision. He could see blobs in the darkness covering the trail. He stood and looked where he knew the rest of the squad were still prone. He could see the dim orange outline of the thirty caliber’s hot barrel. It looked like a branding iron.

  He stepped forward. “I’m checking the bodies, nobody shoot.” He didn’t wait for a response. He went to the first body and kicked them onto their back, ready to shoot if he was alive. He’d learned not to trust dead Japanese soldiers until he’d proved they were really dead. He’d seen too many GIs blown up by Japs playing possum. This one was obviously not faking. There was nothing but glistening gray matter where his face should have been. The next man was dead too, riddled with bullets that had severed one leg at the knee.

  The third man was the wounded soldier. O’Connor bent down to get a closer look. The man was facing upright. He could see both his hands were at his sides and they were empty. The Japanese soldier was swallowing over and over like he couldn’t get his throat wet. His mouth opened and closed making him seem to be gulping air like it was food. O’Connor stepped back and aimed at the man’s head. The soldier stared into the muzzle of his death. When O’Connor hesitated, the man looked him in the eye and gave a slight nod. O’Connor’s M1 jumped in his hand, and the thirty calib
er round put a neat hole in the soldier’s head, ending his misery.

  O’Connor hadn’t noticed Private Denn beside him and flinched when he squawked, “What’d you do that for? You murdered him.”

  He turned to the young private and in a menacing voice said, “He was suffering.”

  Private Denn didn’t notice the menace in O’Connor’s voice and continued. “He’s not a dog; he’s a human being. You killed him in cold blood. You’re a murderer!”

  O’Connor moved in a flash, smashing his left fist into Private Denn’s jaw. He went down hard, and O’Connor jumped onto his chest pinning him there. He leaned close, nose to nose. “If things were reversed and that was you down there they’d be cutting your balls off about now. Then they’d cut off your pathetic little cock and shove it down your throat until you choked.” He let his words sink in. He leaned back a few inches. “I’ve seen it myself, so shut the fuck up until you’ve been around longer than a few days.” He pushed off Denn’s chest and went to the next dead soldier.

  Private Denn laid in the mud as the adrenaline from the ambush washed over him in waves. He felt sick to his stomach, and he rolled onto his knees and puked. Hot tears came to his eyes, and before he could stop, he was sobbing.

  Sergeant Carver was beside him. Without leaning down he said, “Get off your knees and clean yourself up, boy. You’re not sucking on momma’s tits anymore. This is the real deal and make no mistake.”

  39

  Carver was proud of the way his men had handled themselves during the ambush. They’d waited for his order to open fire, and they’d ceased fire when ordered. He wasn’t able to see the men in the dark, but he could hear their excited whispers as they went over the battle amongst themselves.

  They’d retreated to Hill 260 after the ambush, not wanting to stick around the area in case there was a larger force nearby. The rest of second platoon had heard the brief firefight from their positions on the hill and were confident it was the GIs guns they’d heard, so were ready for the squad to return early. Coming back through the lines had gone off without a hitch, and the men were sitting around waiting for the debrief.

  The jungle was lightening as dawn approached. Lieutenant Swan came out of the bunker and addressed the squad. “Good job, men.” He paced with his arms clasped behind his back. Sergeant Carver thought he looked like a kid play-acting at war. “The Japanese felt our presence and won’t be inserting snipers anytime soon.”

  Carver folded his arms across his chest. Doubt one ambush will deter those sons-of-bitches.

  “You men rest until this evening. Get some chow and some sleep. Once again, good job.” He gestured to Sergeant Carver and Corporal O’Connor to follow him into the command bunker.

  He leaned over the map and put his finger on the spot of the ambush. “This seems to be a hot spot. Any reason either of you can see?”

  Sergeant Carver spoke. “Other than it being the main trail into and out of here, no.”

  Swan continued. “And you didn’t find anything on the bodies?” he looked at Corporal O’Connor who’d searched the Japanese soldiers.

  “Just the normal shit, sir. You know, pictures of family, girlfriends, that sort of thing. The highest rank I saw was a sergeant, but I’m sure some got away, sir.”

  Carver continued. “They were armed with Arisaka rifles. One guy had one of those knee mortars. We put it all in a hole and blew it with a grenade, sir.”

  Lieutenant Swan unfolded the rest of the map showing the entire island. He pointed to their beachhead on the western shore almost in the center of Bougainville. “The question is: where are the Japs coming from? There’s no roads, only overgrown dirt tracks, yet they continue to attack us in force and fire artillery from the hills around us onto our airfields and beach.” He pointed to the southern end of the map. “The main Jap force is here at Buin,” he moved his finger to the northern end, “And here at Buka. That’s a hell of a long journey on foot with heavy equipment.” He put his hands behind his back and paced. “I know the Nips are sneaky and resilient, but it seems like they’re getting to us too easily. There has to be a road somewhere, some jumping off point to get close with those heavy guns and troops.”

  Sergeant Carver didn’t like where this was going. “Sir, haven’t they landed men and supplies onto the beaches north and south of here?”

  Swan nodded, “they did that successfully once and attacked the Marines by surprise. From what I hear they had a hard fight. But that was months ago and every attempt since, at least as far as we know, has been stopped by our Navy.

  “Those PT boats patrol the area constantly, and they’ve run off more than one ship trying to get in close, presumably to offload troops.” He shook his head. “I think something else is happening. I think they’re building roads and the thick jungle doesn’t allow our air forces to see them building.”

  Sergeant Carver and Corporal O’Connor looked at one another with grim faces, knowing what was coming.

  “We need to have eyes on the ground out there. We need to find out how the Japs are getting to us and stop it. Once we locate the road we can attack it by air and artillery and cut off the artery that’s feeding their troops.”

  Silence filled the bunker as Lieutenant Swan looked at Carver. Finally Sergeant Carver broke the silence. “You want a patrol to find this road, sir? A patrol from Hill 260?”

  He nodded. “We can work out the details later, but yes. I want an experienced patrol out there with eyes on the Japs.” Carver and O’Connor stared into the lieutenant’s eyes. He continued, “I want you two to lead the patrol. You’re the most qualified with your experiences on Guadalcanal. You can pick whatever men you think you need, whatever equipment. I’ll leave the specifics up to you.”

  Sergeant Carver intensified his stare, drilling holes. “When you want this to happen, sir?”

  Lieutenant Swan looked at the floor then back at Carver. “Sooner the better. I don’t like not knowing where the enemy is. The sooner we know, the better we can stop another attack and save American lives.” Carver stared, wanting a more specific answer. Swan shrugged. “In a couple of days at the earliest. You men need rest, and we’ll need to come up with a plan and a list of men you want with you. You can take whoever you want from the platoon. We’re getting first platoon from Baker Company tomorrow. I’m thinking a squad-sized force of twelve men?”

  Sergeant Carver asked, “You asking or telling, sir?”

  “I’m asking your opinion. Isn’t that about the size of the force you took behind the lines at Guadalcanal?”

  Carver gritted his teeth, remembering the ill-fated mission. He’d started with twelve men and ended with two, just himself and Corporal O’Connor made it out alive. Sergeant Carver nodded. “We had twelve men, but we lost most of them, sir.” He put his hands behind his back and asked, “Permission to speak freely, sir?” Lieutenant Swan nodded. “The mission on the Canal was a complete cluster-fuck. Sending us behind enemy lines is a good way to get good men killed. We only pulled that mission off by sheer luck, and even then we had over a ninety percent casualty rate. Why doesn’t Regiment send out a large force if they’re so bent on finding the Jap road?”

  Carver knew he was pushing it questioning orders, but he hoped he had a good enough rapport with the young Lieutenant to get away with it. Lieutenant Swan’s face turned a shade of red. “I haven’t passed this by Regiment.” Sergeant Carver exchanged a look with Corporal O’Connor who sneered back. Before Carver could speak, the lieutenant continued. “I have orders to hold this hill any way I see fit.” He started pacing again. “If I can find the Jap’s supply routes I can stop them from attacking.”

  Sergeant Carver stared, stunned at the news. “Are you telling me we’ll be out on our own without even the support of the Regiment?”

  Swan’s face went from red to pale. “You’ll have any support you need. You’ll be in radio contact with me the whole time. If you need artillery support or air cover, you can relay it to me, and I’ll p
ass it along.”

  Carver frowned. “Radios don’t work too well from the top of this here hill, let alone down there in the jungle. It’s thick, thicker than any I’ve ever seen.”

  Despite his pale features and obvious discomfort, The lieutenant stuck to his orders. “You’ve faced adversity before, Sergeant. I’m sure you’re the man for the job. You and Corporal O’Connor. I want it done. It’s,” he braced himself like he was getting ready for an ocean wave to slam into him. “It’s an order.”

  Sergeant Carver’s spine stiffened as he threw up his hand in a tight salute. Corporal O’Connor was slower and not as stiff, but he saluted as well.

  “Get some rest; I’ll have a search area mapped out for you by tomorrow. I’ve got some ideas about where I think the roads probably are.” He returned their salutes and bent over the map.

  Carver and O’Connor turned and left the bunker. When they were out of earshot, O’Connor said, “This shit’s starting to become a habit.”

  Carver snorted, “Yeah a bad habit. I don’t like it, not one bit. Maybe he’ll come to his senses after we’ve been here a day or two.”

  O’Connor shook his head, “Doubt it. He’s got one successful mission under his belt; now he thinks he’s goddamned MacArthur.”

  40

  The two days Lieutenant Swan had given Sergeant Carver to assemble his patrol members passed. Carver kept it simple, choosing men from his platoon. He’d picked as many seasoned soldiers as he could, but was forced to use some green troopers. He felt he had a strong mix. The green troopers were solid soldiers. He’d trained with them on Fiji, but he had no idea how they’d react when the bullets started flying. Some had been on the ambush patrol, but that was an unfair fight.