The 164th Regiment Series Boxset

by Chris Glatte

  He ducked but kept the truck pointed straight ahead. The sound of the machine gun was like a buzz saw. Bullets thumped into the grille, and the windshield shattered, raining down on them. The impact with the jeep sounded like the end of the world as metal mangled and crushed.

  The sudden deceleration threw them into the dashboard, and they fell to the floor in heaps. The truck rolled to a stop. The only sound from the engine was the ticking and hissing as the radiator fluid spilled onto it.

  O’Connor was the first to lift his head. Through the shattered windshield he could see the barrel of the machine gun pointing to the sky. A thin stream of smoke wafted into the jungle canopy. The gunner was nowhere in sight. He slapped Willy on the shoulder, “We’ve gotta get outta here in case there’s fire. Get Carver and come out my side, that driver’s still out there.”

  Private Willy shook the cobwebs out of his dazed head, and he nodded. He shook Sergeant Carver who brushed him aside. “I heard, I heard. I’m coming.” He held his head, “Feel like I got slugged by a giant.” His hand came away wet with blood.

  Private Willy asked, “You okay? You’re bleeding.”

  Carver looked at him and smiled through blood stained teeth, “No shit.”

  O’Connor had to kick the door three times before it finally opened. He slid out with his M1 ready and waved the others out. Willy was halfway out when Carver grabbed his shoulder. “What’s this?”

  Willy looked behind him. Carver was holding up a satchel covered in blood. Willy shrugged then remembered. “The fat Jap officer was carrying that. He must’ve stowed it under the seat when he tried to drive outta here. Forgot all about it.” His eyes went wide. “It’s probably important; we should bring it.”

  Carver sneered, “No shit.”

  O’Connor went to the front of the truck to survey the damage while Willy and Carver went to check on the men. O’Connor nearly fired his weapon when he saw what must have been the machine gunner. He was plastered to the front of the grille. His shoulder firmly wedged into the grille slats and the side of his face caved in partially enveloping one of the slats. His bulging eyes were rolled to the back of his head. He hardly looked human.

  He was brought back from his trance when he saw movement in the jungle beside the jeep. He remembered the Jap driver and brought his M1 to his shoulder.

  There was a flash of uniform running straight away through the jungle. He centered his back in his sights and was pulling the trigger when the soldier dropped out of sight. His shot missed. He waited for another chance, but he never saw him again. He contemplated chasing him but didn’t relish hunting a man who was scared and probably armed. He heard Sergeant Carver calling for help. He took one last look and jogged to the back of the transport.

  The crash hadn’t done wonders for the men in the back, particularly the prisoners. The two seriously wounded Marines were dead, and the other three looked shell-shocked. The squad members had fared better, but Private Palmer and Private Crofter were both holding bandages to their heads. Corporal Dawkins, was wrapping their wounds.

  “How are they, Doc?” Sergeant Carver asked.

  Dawkins didn’t stop working. “They were sitting in front and slammed into the cab. They’ll be okay but will probably have terrible headaches.” He glanced at Carver who had a similarly gushing head wound. “I’ll get to you next, Sarge.”

  “I’m fine. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

  Dawkins nodded, “They always do, but I’ll wrap it, keep it from dripping into your eyes.”

  Carver shrugged and nodded. “Just so it doesn’t hold us up. I’m sure that was only the first part of a reaction force, more Japs’ll be coming any second. We gotta be long gone by then.”

  Dawkins worked fast while the men got themselves ready to move. Private Grant called. “What about the Jap? Should we kill him or take him with us?”

  Sergeant Carver had forgotten all about him. “Leave him, we’ve got what he was carrying.” Carver held up the satchel. The officer was sitting in the truck bed trying to clear his head. He was woozy and swayed slightly side to side. When Carver held up the satchel his eyes widened, and he tried to get up, but a rifle butt knocked him back down. Carver grinned. “We’ve gotta get this back, it’s obviously important, that Jap’s about to shit himself.”

  Private Willy came up beside Sergeant Carver, “No use letting him live; he’ll tell his buddies which way we went.” Carver scowled at him. This man is pure hatred. “I’ll do it quiet if you like.” He reached for his K-bar knife.

  Carver shook his head. “I’m not killing a prisoner. Make sure he can’t get loose, gag him and put something over his head.” Private Willy’s eyes lit up. Carver barked, “Something he can breathe through.”

  Willy turned away and spat. Private Grant did as Sergeant Carver ordered. When he finished, the officer was bound up tight. He couldn’t talk, see or move. If his comrades didn’t find him, he’d die of thirst and heat exhaustion within the hour. Carver took one last look at him and shook his head. Thought these sons-of-bitches were starving. This one looks like my cousin Peter. An image of his overweight cousin jumping into the lake during a warm summer day flashed through his mind. It seemed like it happened on another planet in another century.

  O’Connor was watching the road with his rifle ready. He yelled over his shoulder. “Which way, Sarge?”

  He pointed east. “We’ll head east and hopefully find our old path. We’ll be able to move faster once were on familiar ground. Find us a good way off this road, Corporal.”

  O’Connor nodded and jogged down the road. He found a break in the jungle and motioned the squad. The three Marines had sidearms, but they were so weak they couldn’t hold them. They stuffed them into their waistbands, happy to have a way to defend themselves.

  Sergeant Carver signaled for O’Connor to wait and went to the back of the truck to take one last look at the Japanese officer. He was sweating profusely but hadn’t moved. Private Grant had done a good job.

  He knew it wouldn’t take long for the Japanese to find their trail, but he didn’t want to make it any easier for them.

  Back with O’Connor, he pointed at Private Willy. “Take point.” O’Connor looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Carver addressed O’Connor. “I want you to stay back and set those grenade traps. It’ll slow those bastards down, give us more of a chance.”

  O’Connor smiled like a devil. “I’ll collect the squad’s grenades…good idea.”

  Carver motioned the men to follow Willy. He put the three Marines in the middle of the squad with men on either side of them for support. Carver hadn’t heard them say more than a few words; they seemed to be in shock with the whole situation.

  Sergeant Carver took one last look down the road and signaled Willy to move out. Willy nodded, licked his lips and moved into the jungle.

  52

  Colonel Araki glared at the newly arrived Lieutenant Shibata. He knew no one would disturb his sleep unless they had a damned good reason. He sat up in bed and scowled at the bowing Lieutenant. He was new, which automatically made him the bearer of bad news.

  Colonel Araki rubbed the sleep from his eyes then his aching leg. He could hardly walk unless he rubbed his leg a few minutes to get the blood flowing. Every time he felt the pain his hatred for the Americans grew hotter. He growled, “What is it, Lieutenant?”

  Lieutenant Shibata came out of his bow and held out a piece of paper. “This just came over the radio. It’s urgent, sir.”

  “Just tell me what it says, damn you.”

  He bowed again and opened the paper. He’d heard the transmission and didn’t need to read it. “It’s from Major Kotani at the prisoner camp. They’re under attack.” Colonel Araki’s head snapped up. “He doesn’t know the force size, but he’s in danger of being overrun.”

  Colonel Araki was standing. He found his cane and walked to the door as fast as his injured leg would allow. He took the paper and quickly scanned it. “Get a reaction force assembled
immediately.”

  Lieutenant Shibata turned and ran to get men ready for combat. He was glad to be away from the fuming colonel.

  Colonel Araki went back inside and put on his uniform and boots. He slammed his fist on the rickety desk. Do the Americans know about the battle plans? No, impossible. They’re trying to free the prisoners. They’re on another one of their Hollywood quests. He planned on throwing everything he had at them. Losing the prisoners wouldn’t be a problem, but losing the battle plans could prove disastrous. He had to make sure they were safe.

  Once dressed he went outside. The men were hustling around trying to get their gear ready. He saw Captain Tagami yelling and giving orders. Colonel Araki called to him, and he stopped what he was doing and went to his commander and saluted. “How close are you to getting a reaction force to the camp?”

  Captain Tagami replied, “The main force will be ready in minutes. I have two troop trucks. I can have thirty soldiers there in twenty minutes. I’ve already sent out a three man squad on a motorcycle, and a jeep with a mounted machine gun. Lieutenant Shibata volunteered to be the gunner. If the Americans are trying to escape the squad will be able to stall them until we arrive in force.”

  Colonel Araki nodded. “Good. I want you leaving in the next five minutes.”

  Captain Tagami saluted and went back to organizing his force. Minutes later the trucks were filled with troops and trundling along the newly constructed road towards the camp. Colonel Araki called for his jeep; he’d follow along and oversee the operation.

  Captain Tagami was in the lead truck beside a sergeant and the driver. Even though the road was new, it was already full of ruts and muddy puddles, despite not being used often. He urged the driver ever faster, and the men held on the best they could.

  He figured they were a couple of Kilometers from the camp when they came around a curve, and the driver stood on the brakes. The truck following was a fraction too late and slammed into the back. The soldiers were first thrown forward then flung back. The two men in the back of the first truck were flung out and landed on the hood of the second truck.

  Captain Tagami had been studying a map and started to cuss the driver until he saw the carnage blocking the road. It was obvious what had happened. The jeep he’d sent out was crumpled against a troop truck. Smoke still wafted into the air from the dead vehicles. He jumped out, and his feet sank into the mud. He yelled for the men to disembark and set up a perimeter.

  He waved a squad forward to investigate. He walked with them, his Nambu pistol drawn and ready. There was no sign of the motorcycle he’d sent, and he only saw one body. He studied the man planted in the truck grille and realized it was Lieutenant Shibata.

  There was yelling from the back of the wreck. They’d found something. He jogged past the cab and glanced inside. It was covered with shards of glass and blood. He continued to the back and watched as two soldiers hauled a bound and gagged man from the back of the truck. He had a bag over his head. The man grunted and strained as the soldiers struggled to move him.

  Once they had him out and on his feet, Captain Tagami ripped the bag from his head. The man squinted at the morning sunlight streaming through the trees. Captain Tagami stepped back astonished, “Lieutenant Taro!”

  Lieutenant Taro bowed his head, “Captain Tagami.” He bent over; a coughing fit getting the best of him. The men stepped back giving him breathing room. When he was through clearing his lungs, he said, “The Americans attacked the camp, they took me prisoner.” His eyes went wide, remembering. “The, the Americans have the satchel, they have the plans.” He started to collapse but was caught by the soldiers. He got control and continued. “We have to stop them; they left an hour ago. We must stop them.”

  Captain Tagami said, “We know about the attack, we were coming to your aid, but it appears we’re too late. Which way did they go?” Lieutenant Taro shook his head. He’d lost a lot of fluid languishing in the back of the truck and felt light headed and sick.

  Captain Tagami ordered his men to search the surrounding area for tracks leading into the jungle. The sergeants led two groups along either side of the road. He had the soldiers holding Lt. Taro untie him and put him on the ground. Once he was situated, he asked, “What plans? What satchel?”

  Lieutenant Taro looked up at the Captain towering above him. “There was a satchel with battle plans, I think. I was trying to escape with them when they captured the truck,” he moved his head to the crashed truck, “I had the satchel in the truck, and they took it. Before they gagged and blindfolded me I saw one of them with it.”

  Another vehicle skidded to a halt behind Captain Tagami’s troop trucks. Tagami saw the unmistakable gait of Colonel Araki coming around the wreck. He approached, and Tagami braced and gave him a crisp salute.

  Colonel Araki returned the salute. “Report.”

  Captain Tagami told him what he knew and what he was doing about it. Colonel Araki gritted his teeth when he heard Lt. Taro was involved. He limped to where Lieutenant Taro was still sitting on the ground with his head in his hands. Colonel Araki recognized his generous frame and stepped in front. Lieutenant Taro saw the shiny boots and looked up to see the last person he wanted to face. “Colonel, Colonel Araki,” he spluttered getting to his feet. The sudden move sent him into a dizzy spell that he couldn’t control. He got halfway up and had to sit back down. He felt the bile rising, but it was too late to stop it. He spewed partially digested rice and meat onto the ground beside the colonel’s boots.

  Colonel Araki didn’t move but kneeled in front of him. “Tell me everything starting with the attack.”

  Lieutenant Taro wiped his pale mouth and relayed everything he could recall about the past few hours.

  When he was finished, Colonel Araki stood. Lieutenant Taro willed himself to his feet and swayed. Colonel Araki lashed out with an open palmed right hand and slapped Taro, knocking him back to the ground. Lieutenant Taro looked up at him, confusion and fear in his eyes. “The Americans now have the plans for our spring attack…down to the very last detail!” His eyes seethed. “Because of your incompetence!”

  Lieutenant Taro was horrified to think he’d let his commander down again. He spluttered, “Sir, I tried to get them away, back to you, but they attacked the truck.” He shook his head, “there was nothing I could do. There were too many of them.”

  Colonel Araki looked down at him and spat. “The Americans weren’t looking for the plans. How could they possibly know about them, you fool? They were trying to free the prisoners. They took the truck to escape. If they’d come for the plans, they wouldn’t have left before finding them. By running away with the satchel, you gave them the plans!”

  Lieutenant Taro felt sick again as he realized the truth of it. The world started to spin, and he couldn’t keep himself from falling onto his side and emptying the rest of his gut.

  Colonel Araki had every intention of shooting him in place, but at that moment there was a muted explosion, followed by shouting and screaming. He left the sick lieutenant in the mud and limped to the commotion. Captain Tagami trotted past him with his pistol drawn.

  A Kilometer down the road Sergeant Chida was pulling a body from the jungle onto the road. Behind him, two men helped a screaming soldier, and sat him down beside the dead man.

  Captain Tagami got there first. “What happened?”

  Sergeant Chida braced, “We found the American trail, but they set a trap. A grenade rigged with wire, sir.” He pointed to the two men. One was dead, his chest wet with blood from countless shrapnel wounds. The other’s leg was a mangled mess. Fleshy meat and bone showed through his pants. He rocked back and forth yelling in pain.

  Colonel Araki went to the man and smacked him with his cane. The soldier looked up with crazed eyes. Colonel Araki spoke through gritted teeth. “You are a soldier of the empire! Stop screaming like a stuck pig.” The soldier swallowed the scream and breathed through pursed lips.

  Colonel Araki yelled. “Captain Tagami, take
your men in pursuit at once. Leave a trail for more troops to follow. Leave me four men.” Tagami turned to leave, but Colonel Araki slapped his cane on his shoulder. Colonel Araki said, “Getting those plans back is more important than the lives of you and your men.”

  Captain Tagami left Araki with four of his best men and followed the trail into the jungle.

  Colonel Araki and the four soldiers went back to the wreck. Lieutenant Taro had pulled himself up and was leaning against the back of the troop truck, staring at the two dead Marines. He was still pale and dazed, but when he saw Colonel Araki coming, he tried to stand at attention.

  The anger that filled Colonel Araki had subsided. His thoughts were clearer now that the rage had passed. He still wanted to punish his fat lieutenant, but he wouldn’t shoot him. He’d be more clever. As he approached, Taro tried to snap off a tight salute, but it came off weak. Colonel Araki didn’t return it. In an even voice, he said, “You will be in the first wave of attackers.” He walked around Taro, still trying to keep his salute at his brow. He dropped it as Araki passed and closed his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Colonel Araki limped back to the waiting jeep.

  Being at the front of an attack on the American line would likely end in his death, but an attack against an enemy that knew their entire plan would be a sure thing.

  He took a deep breath and resigned himself yet again to his death. He’d lived the last few months knowing there was little chance he’d survive the war. Men far better than him had died by the thousands. It was a miracle he was still alive.

  When he’d transferred to the prisoner camp, he’d gotten a glimmer of hope that perhaps he’d live, but now there was no chance.