The 164th Regiment Series Boxset

by Chris Glatte

  Sergeant Carver saw the Japanese soldiers on the lip of the waterfall. They were in perfect silhouette against the night sky. Their first volley of shots had stopped his men from moving. He was sure he’d seen at least two of his men go down, but he couldn’t tell who.

  He crouched and fired his Thompson. He shot in short two and three round bursts. He saw soldiers falling off the cliff. He pulled back at the same instant bullets slapped into the water and boulders. He yelled, “Stay in cover. They’re on the cliff!” He knew his men couldn’t hear him through the roar of the waterfall and the rifle fire. He inched around the boulder and could still see the Japanese on the ledge. No one seemed to be shooting at him, they were leaning over and firing down on his men.

  Need to get closer. Carver sprinted upstream for twenty yards and threw himself behind another boulder. He had a good view of the cliff, but no one was there. They’d pulled back. He rested his muzzle on the moss covered rock and watched the edge. He saw his men start to move away from the boulders aiming up. Carver yelled, “Move out! Come on, it’s clear.”

  They could hear him and see him waving his arm. They broke from cover at the same time Carver saw the Japanese reappear on the ledge. He aimed and fired. He hit a soldier, and he fell backward out of sight. The rest stood on the ledge hurling something. He yelled, “Grenades! Get down, grenades!”

  The squad made it ten yards when they heard Carver yelling over the sound of the falls, to take cover. They dove and covered their heads. The grenades dropped around them like deadly raindrops, then exploded.

  Carver ducked as the explosions erupted. Before the dirt settled, he was up and firing into the silhouetted Japanese soldiers. They dove back, but not before he toppled another. “Come on, move out, move out.” He saw his men trying to get to their feet. The boulders had shielded them from most of the shrapnel, but the close concussions had rattled them. Carver fired, keeping the Japanese from coming forward. He fired his last shot and swapped magazines with an adept and practiced motion. He fired a short burst and ran from cover, towards his men.

  The squad looked like drunks as they swayed and swerved, trying to make their bodies work. Carver got to the first man, Private Palmer and pushed him forward, “Go,” he yelled. Corporal Dawkins had one of the Marines on his back and was lunging forward, grunting with the exertion. Bullets zinged off a boulder near Carver’s head, and he kneeled and fired another burst at the cliff.

  His men streamed past him as he kept up a steady stream of suppressing fire. He counted five men, not enough. He pictured the men who’d passed and realized he hadn’t seen Private Curtis.

  Private Crofter was the last man to pass and Carver yelled at him, “Where’s Curtis?”

  Crofter had another Marine on his back. He looked back and shrugged. “He’s back there.” Renewed fire from the cliff made them all take cover. Bullets smacked and splashed into the water.

  Carver didn’t let them get the upper hand. He leaned out and fired. The big .45 caliber bullets slammed into the cliff wall exploding the rock. Another soldier dropped off the cliff and shattered on the rocks. He yelled, “Get to the jungle”. He moved backward keeping his muzzle on the cliff. He had a good view, and whenever a Japanese soldier moved forward, he fired.

  The squad was nearly in the spot where he’d killed the first group of enemy soldiers. The squad disappeared behind the boulders and Carver turned to run. He’d taken his first step when the air around him erupted in buzzing near misses. The Japanese had crawled forward and were lining him up for the kill.

  He ran hard, weaving in and out of boulders as bullets chased him. There was firing from the boulders to his front, and the fire coming from the cliffs lessened.

  He dove behind cover, his chest heaving with exertion. Dawkins dropped from the boulder he’d been shooting from and nearly landed on Carver. “You hit? Where you hit?” he pawed and poked at him searching for the holes he knew must be there. He saw the gash on his cheek, but the dried blood told him it wasn’t a fresh wound.

  Carver hadn’t caught his breath but pushed him away and gasped, “Get off me…I’m not hit.” Dawkins didn’t believe it and kept groping him. “Dammit, I’m not hit.”.

  He looked at him in wonder. “There’s no way they didn’t hit you. They were firing everything they had at you.” He shook his head. “You’re one lucky son-of-a-bitch.” He looked around like he’d misplaced something. “Where’s Willy?”

  Carver shook his head and looked down. “He’s gone. Gave us the time we needed to get down the falls.”

  The firing continued, but it was sporadic as each side tried to snipe the other. Corporal Dawkins sat down hard and pushed the front of his helmet up. “Never thought the Japs could kill that tough old bastard.” He shook his head, “Too damned mean.”

  Carver nodded, “What happened to Curtis?”

  Dawkins looked Carver in the eye. “I was right beside him. A grenade landed between us. Would’ve killed me, him and the Marines for sure.” He looked away reliving the moment. “He didn’t hesitate, jumped onto it.” A bullet smacked the rock they were behind, and they both flinched.

  Carver shook his head. Where do these men come from? He was wasting time. Wasting the sacrifices of the dead. He clutched the sopping wet satchel bag. “We’ve gotta get the hell outta here before the Japs decide to flank us.” He slung his Thompson over his shoulder and rummaged around a dead Jap soldier until he found one of the Arisaka rifles. He found ammo pouches and took them too.

  A plan formulated. He raised his voice. “We’ve gotta get outta here, but I wanna make those sons-of-bitches pay.” He gestured toward the cliffs. The men looked back at him with blank stares. They were dead tired. “No more shooting even if you see them. We’ll wait awhile until they think we’re gone. If they start down the cliff, that’s when we’ll open up on ‘em.” The men nodded, happy for some time to rest and eat.

  Carver felt he needed to explain himself. “If we leave now they’ll be hot on our tails and probably catch us before we get to our lines. If we stay and kill them on the cliff face, they’ll be forced to go back upstream and come the long way.” The men nodded and sat behind the boulders and ate whatever they could find.

  Sergeant Carver took the first watch, resting the Japanese rifle on the boulder. He could see movement on the cliff, but he didn’t fire. As the minutes ticked by, it was all he could do to keep his eyes open.

  60

  Lieutenant Koga’s jaw hurt from clenching. He’d lost half his platoon tracking these Americans down, and he still hadn’t killed them all or recovered the satchel. He lay on his belly at the lip of the waterfall. He and his men had learned the hard away about kneeling and standing. Their black silhouettes were easy to spot.

  There hadn’t been any shooting from the Americans for awhile. He had his men shoot, but there was no return fire. He made a decision. “Sergeant.” Sergeant Higashi rose to a crouch and shuffled to Lt. Koga’s side. “The Americans got down this cliff. Find out how. We need to pursue them before they slip back to their lines.”

  Sergeant Higashi nodded. “It looks like they went down the vines on the left side. They must’ve used them like a rope.”

  Lieutenant Koga looked at his sergeant’s bloody arm. He was hit in the left bicep. The medic said it went straight through without breaking bones, but it bled profusely and had to be excruciating. Sergeant Higashi never let on that he was in pain. He carried out his duty as if nothing had happened. “Will you be able to climb, Sergeant?”

  Higashi looked embarrassed. “I will make it, sir.” He gathered the men and sent them to investigate the route down. Five minutes later he reported to Lt. Koga. “There’s an outcropping we can climb to, then we use the vines to the bottom. It looks slow but effective.”

  Lieutenant Koga nodded. “Good. I want three men covering our descent in case the Americans are only in hiding.”

  Sergeant Higashi nodded and said, “Hai.”

  Sergeant Carver saw movemen
t on the cliff. He tracked them with the Japanese rifle but didn’t fire. There was a group forming on the side of the falls. They’d figured out how to descend the waterfall.

  He whispered to the men. “Get to position. The Japs are making their move.” They stood, stifling moans as they pushed their aching bodies back into action. They found their firing positions and tracked the targets on the ridge. “Don’t fire until I do. I want to pick as many off as possible, but none can make it to the ground.” The men nodded. “When we don’t have any more targets we disengage and move downstream.”

  Sergeant Carver watched the dark shapes of soldiers climbing to the outcropping. It was difficult to see them once they were off the ridge. He wished he had a flare gun, but they were traveling light. He squinted trying to see through the gloom.

  The soldiers on the outcropping were visible only as blobs of darkness. He wondered if he’d be able to see them at all once they started descending the vines. He didn’t want to shoot too early and leave soldiers on the ridge, but he couldn’t risk any soldiers making it the creek bed either.

  He took his eyes off his sights and looked to his men. They were well concealed, waiting for his signal. The three Marines had captured Japanese rifles and were ready as well. He decided he’d wait until he saw at least two soldiers start descending. He’d shoot them first if he could see them.

  More soldiers climbed down to the outcropping. He started to see the vines moving as they took the soldier’s weight. He pulled the rifle into his shoulder and centered it on the back of the lead climber. Hope the previous owner zeroed his rifle. He squeezed the trigger and the rifle bucked into his shoulder. He cycled another round with the bolt action. He was pleased with the ease of the action and happy to see his target fall from the vines.

  The rest of the squad opened fire, and the dark shapes writhed and fell. Muzzle flashes winked from the top of the cliff and Japanese bullets slammed into the boulders. The men ducked away.

  Carver swung his rifle to the ridgeline and waited for another muzzle flash. It came a second later, and he adjusted his aim and fired. He quickly recycled the bolt and fired again and again until the five round clip was empty. He had no idea if he hit anything, but he drew their fire. He ducked back as bullets ricocheted off the rocks. He yelled, “Take the climbers. I’ll keep the ridgeline pinned down.” The men leaned into their rifles and fired at the shapes still on the outcropping. Carver reloaded and fired at the winking flashes. He thought he saw one soldier’s head snap back, but he couldn’t be sure.

  He pulled back as another volley of fire came at him. The ‘ping’ sound of empty clips up and down the line told him his men were empty. He used the pause to yell. “We gotta go. Reload and fall back down the creek.”

  The squad moved away from the boulders keeping cover between themselves and the Japanese. There was firing coming from the top of the falls but nothing from the outcropping. Corporal Dawkins shouldered his rifle and went to where the Marines were still firing. He touched Kendrick’s shoulder, and he looked back. He had a smile that seemed to reach both ears. Dawkins said, “Come on, we gotta go.”

  Kendrick nodded but fired the round he had chambered. He turned back to Dawkins and said, “Finally giving some back to those sons-of-bitches.”

  Dawkins nodded and repeated, “We gotta go.”

  He turned away and crouched waiting for Kendrick to get on his back, but the Marine shook his head. “I can make it, Doc.” He looked to Private Sparks and Paulson who were beside him. They were grinning.

  Sparks nodded. “No sweat, Doc. We can make it.”

  Dawkins turned and looked to Sergeant Carver who’d heard the exchange. “Keep ‘em in front of you and move out.” Dawkins nodded.

  Carver pointed at the Marines as they struggled to their feet. “If you slow us down we’ll have to carry you again.” The Marines nodded. They stood on shaky legs. Dressed in rags and holding impossibly long Japanese rifles, Carver thought They looked like pictures he’d seen of children hit hardest by the great depression.

  The determination on their faces told him they’d die before being helped again. He took one last look at the dark cliff face. There was still firing coming from the ridge, but nothing from the outcropping. He ducked and moved out, following his men. The occasional bullet chased after them, but he was certain the Japanese couldn’t see them in the darkness.

  Lieutenant Koga ducked when the Americans started shooting from the creek bed again. As he feared, they’d laid in wait until his men were exposed. His men on the cliff edge immediately returned fire, but the American fire continued, and his men on the outcropping were falling. There was no cover. They returned fire at the winking muzzle flashes, but it was only a matter of time before they were all hit and down. The men still on the cliff were prone and returned fire in greater volume.

  He moved the rest of his platoon away from the cliff edge but left three men covering. He noticed one soldier wasn’t firing. He looked to be sleeping, but the hole in the back of his head told him otherwise.

  He crawled forward and peered over the edge. He looked down at the men on the outcropping. There was no movement, only dark shapes intertwined in death.

  He couldn’t count how many there were. He clenched his jaw. He wanted to attack, to descend on the American squad and kill them all slowly. They’d inflicted terrible damage, and he had nothing to show for it.

  He didn’t like it, but he knew what he had to do. He turned from the carnage and in a tight voice ordered, “We move back upstream and circle to the creek bed.” The men were crouched and staring. Lieutenant Koga erupted, “Now!” He clenched his fists as the soldiers jumped into action and started retracing their steps.

  Sergeant Higashi shouldered his rifle and winced in pain. His bicep wound had stopped bleeding but the pain increased. He channeled it away, redirecting it as hatred toward the Americans.

  The GIs moved fast down the creek for two hundred yards. If the Japanese decided to try the cliff again, Carver wanted to be far enough downstream that they’d have a hard time catching up.

  He called to Private Crofter in the lead position. He was splashing and cursing as he slipped on wet rocks, but he finally heard Carver’s rough voice. He stopped, and Private Palmer cussed at him when he collided. “Shaddup, Palmer. Trying to hear Sarge.”

  Carver slogged through the knee deep water until he was beside Crofter and Palmer. “It’s time to slow down. I figure we’re close to our lines, but we can’t see shit at the bottom of this valley. Find us a good spot to get out of the creek and move south.” He motioned to his left. “We need a rocky spot, somewhere we won’t leave any obvious tracks.” He checked his wristwatch and noticed the face was cracked and unreadable. He looked around at the six remaining men. “Anyone have a watch that works?”

  Corporal Dawkins, his medic, and ranking soldier, pulled back his sleeve and squinted at his wrist. “It’s 0315, Sarge.”

  Carver nodded. “Okay. The sun’s gonna be up in a few hours. I want to be somewhere we can get our bearings by then.” The squad stared back at him. Their blank stares reminded him they’d been awake for more than twenty-four hours; fighting for their lives the whole time.

  The Marines looked like wraiths with their sallow cheeks and shredded uniforms. “We’re almost out of this nightmare. We’re gonna make it. Just need to push for a few more hours.”

  Dawkins asked, “What about O’Connor and Gomez? Aren’t they supposed to meet us?”

  Carver pinched the crown of his nose and shook his head. “Yeah, that was the plan, but he knew it was unlikely. He and Gomez are probably already back on Hill 260 sleeping like babes.” Everyone grinned wanting it to be true but knowing it wasn’t.

  Carver pointed with his thumb, “This group of Japs we’re dealing with came from downstream. We haven’t seen the original group, so O’Connor and Gomez were successful in drawing them away. I’d put my money on those two against any size Jap force any day of the week. O’Connor’s
a damned mountain man, for chrissakes.” He knew he was trying too hard, but it made him feel better. “Now move out and find us a good spot to get out of this creek.”

  Private Crofter found a suitable spot another three hundred yards downstream. He stopped and waited for Sergeant Carver’s approval. Carver nodded, “Looks good.” He raised his voice. “Drink what’s in your canteens and fill ‘em back up. Don’t know when we’ll get another chance.”

  When they finished, Private Crofter led the way out of the creek. Carver stayed back, pointing his Thompson upstream. He had one magazine left, and once used it may as well be a club. He had the rifle slung across his back along with the satchel hanging at his side. He felt like he was a heavily armed delivery boy for the morning paper.

  Once the last man left the creek, he stepped out. He stepped from stone to stone until there were no more. He could see where the others had jumped out as far as they could onto the mossy ground. He jumped too and landed softly. He crouched and felt around for the boot print he knew he’d find. He did his best to cover and conceal, but doubted he’d fool anyone that was looking; especially in daylight.

  Private Crofter led them away from the creek, heading due south. The ground gradually sloped upward. The jungle went from nearly impassable to tolerable.

  After an hour, Crofter stopped and crouched. The men were exhausted and slow to react, but they bent tired knees and searched the area for enemy soldiers.

  Sergeant Carver shuffled by them and crouched beside Crofter. Crofter didn’t speak but pointed. He was at the edge of a cliff. In the darkness, it could be twenty feet or a thousand. Carver whispered, “Shit, is there a way around it?”

  He could sense Crofter’s shrug. Crofter pointed. “Look at that.”

  Carver followed his arm and saw the soft glow lighting up low clouds. Carver grinned in the darkness and slapped Crofter on the back. “By God, that’s Mount Bagana. She’s spewing hot tonight.” Crofter nodded not understanding the significance. “Bagana’s northwest of Hill 260. We’re closer than I thought.”