The 164th Regiment Series Boxset

by Chris Glatte

  The sound of the PT boat’s engine intensified as it neared. O’Connor could see it was further up the coast, about where they’d been dropped off the other night. Are they looking for us?

  He looked at the troops on the beach. The officer was yelling, and the Japanese dropped to their bellies. O’Connor could tell the PT boat hadn’t seen them, or they would’ve engaged. He looked back at Gomez and whispered, “That’s our ticket out of here. We’ve gotta get their attention.” Gomez nodded, and O’Connor saw the fear in his bloodshot eyes. “We’ve gotta attack. Once we fire, the Japs will have to shift and engage, and hopefully, the boat will see them.” Gomez gulped and gave him a short nod.

  O’Connor went to his belly. “We’ve gotta get to the edge of the jungle for a clear shot. Stay down and follow my lead.” Gomez went to his belly without a word, and they slithered forward until they were at the jungle edge. They were six feet apart with only thin vines and leaves for cover.

  The Japanese soldiers were facing away, lying flat. Their light tan battle fatigues were perfect camouflage in the sand. They looked like scattered rocks.

  O’Connor found what he thought was the officer. He was on his belly faced away from him. He couldn’t be sure it was him, but he was in the same area he’d seen him last. From this angle, O’Connor would be shooting him in the ass. The thought made his sphincter pucker.

  The PT boat was coming close to shore but hadn’t slowed. It was turning ninety degrees towards them, paralleling the beach. The graceful lines of the boat were cutting a white wake through the sea. The waves were lapping up against the shore.

  At its present course and speed, the boat would be in front of the Japanese soldiers in another minute. He heard yelling from the beach, issued orders. They were coming from the officer. The soldiers responded by shifting positions and bringing their weapons to bear. They were going to engage the boat when it was close. With sixteen guns, it would be an effective ambush. O’Connor couldn’t let that happen.

  He gave a low whistle and Gomez looked his way. He signaled that he was firing in five seconds. Gomez nodded once and brought his cheek to the stock of his gun placing the sights on the sergeant he’d kill first.

  O’Connor put pressure on the M1’s trigger until it fired. He continued firing into the officer’s backside. The officer arched and writhed onto his back pushing along the sand. He pushed himself to the river’s bank and out of O’Connor’s sight. He moved to the next target, the closest soldier, the one who’d nearly stepped on him. The soldier had heard the shot and was looking back over his shoulder directly at O’Connor. O’Connor put a bullet through his eye and found the next soldier. Before he could fire Gomez, put two bullets into his side, and he slumped.

  The soldiers on the beach were turning around to face the unseen threat. O’Connor shot two more before the ‘ping’ of his empty clip sounded. Gomez covered him while he pushed in a new clip.

  The return fire coming from the beach was inaccurate, fired in panic. O’Connor put the muzzle on a soldier who was pulling back the bolt to reload. He was exposed and only twenty yards away. O’Connor put two thirty caliber bullets through his head. The soldier’s head snapped back then slumped forward.

  A bullet whizzed between them snapping leaves and vines. Gomez fired his last shot, and O’Connor covered him while he reloaded. The easy targets were dead or out of commission.

  The remaining Japanese were behind the cover of the sloping river bank and were firing into the jungle. They still hadn’t pinpointed their position, but they would soon, and then they’d die. Bullets smacked into the jungle all around them. One plowed into the sand and sent a fountain of debris into O’Connor’s eyes. He cursed and wiped furiously. “Cover me. I can’t see.”

  He tried to open his heavy eyelids, but it was too painful. He clawed at his side for his canteen. He felt bullets whipping and snapping through the jungle around him. He felt the panic starting to mount, rising up like molten lava to the crest of a volcano. He concentrated on the canteen, unscrewed the lid and dumped it over his eyes. There wasn’t much left, but it was enough to clear his vision. He looked to his left and saw Gomez clawing at another clip. Bullets slashed the leaves and vines sending debris onto his back.

  He cursed, he hadn’t heard the ping from Gomez’s M1. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired towards the river bank. He could barely see the enemies’ heads through the thick layer of gun smoke. A Japanese bullet sliced into his helmet and his head flung back as the helmet flew off. Gomez stopped firing and looked over at him; sure he was dead.

  Captain Tagami knew he would die soon. He got shot from behind somehow. Two bullets had sliced up his leg and into his body. He felt them burning from the inside, like hot branding irons. In his initial burst of adrenalin his body had reacted without him knowing how.

  He found himself on the riverbank facing back towards the jungle. He had no idea how he’d gotten there, but he could see his blood track soaking into the sand leading straight to him. He thought it looked like a lot of blood. He pulled his submachine gun from under his torso. The sling kept it close to his body. He was glad he still had a weapon. He’d die fighting at least.

  He tried to lift the weapon and aim, but a sudden weakness overcame him. He felt as though he couldn’t lift a single sand pebble, let alone his weapon. He cursed and forced himself to push it forward. He propped it on the slight rise in front of him, the clip acting as the fulcrum point. He reached up and with great effort depressed the trigger. The machine gun jumped in his hand, and he lost his grip. He cursed and tried to recover, but it was no use. He had no energy.

  He rested his head and looked to his right. Beside him he could see his men firing their rifles over and over into the jungle. He could hear them chattering, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. Good soldiers. These are valiant warriors. It’s been an honor. He wanted to say it out loud, but he couldn’t speak. Even words were difficult.

  With the last shred of energy, he turned himself onto his back and stared up into the blue sky. He coughed, and it sent wracking pain through his chest. He felt liquid draining from his mouth. Blood, no doubt. Movement caught his eye. It was coming from the sea. He lifted his head and tried to focus. The shape of a boat slashing towards him reminded him of the American PT boat they’d been trying to ambush.

  He watched as the guns on the boat opened up. Even in broad daylight, he could see the long tongues of flame reaching out to him like dragon’s breath. He tried to call out, to warn his gallant soldiers, but he couldn’t make his throat work. It was clogged and unusable. A glowing ball of flame raced towards him. Before it destroyed his body, he thought it looked quite beautiful.

  Sergeant Carver was beside Commander Hawkins as they raced towards the jungle. The powerful boat was at maximum speed, slicing through the water like a supercharged torpedo. He was concentrating on the jungle, his Thompson submachine gun on his hip pointing to the sky. “You’re sure this is the spot?”

  Commander Hawkins nodded but didn’t speak. He was concentrating on BM Smitty at the bow. Smitty was watching for shallow reefs. When the boat was on a plane it only needed a few feet of water, but if they came close to a reef, they’d have to turn, and that would require more water.

  Hawkins was confident they were in the general area of the drop-off point, but navigating using old maps wasn’t an exact science. He hadn’t run into trouble during the drop-off, but there was no guarantee they were in the exact same spot. Hidden reefs were always a danger and he didn’t want to be stuck near the jungle when night came.

  The second PT boat stayed back from the shore. They’d be in support if needed. Commander Hawkins looked over his shoulder reassuring himself of its presence. Glad we’re never alone out here.

  Hawkin’s plan was to keep the boat on a plane and parallel the bank from forty or fifty yards out. If the two missing men were nearby, they’d hear the boat and come running. The problem was, they’d also alert any Japs lurkin
g nearby.

  When they were fifty yards out, Hawkins put the boat into a steep left turn. Carver reached out to steady himself, never taking his eyes off the coastline. He shook his head. He had to yell over the throbbing engine. “It all looks the same. I can’t see the trail.”

  Commander Hawkins finished the turn then leaned close to Carver’s ear, “The river mouth up ahead.” He pointed. “That’s west of the drop-off point. We’re definitely in the same area.”

  Carver followed the beach and found the river inlet. From this far out it looked little more than a slight intrusion poking into the sea. Carver hadn’t studied the maps as Hawkins had. He continued scanning the beach and jungle. He’d have to trust Commander Hawkins knew what he was doing.

  Ensign Hanks was beside Carver glassing the coastline with his binoculars. He heard Hawkins mention the river inlet and focused in on the area. The sea was smooth, but it was difficult to maintain a steady gaze through the binoculars. He was about to scan away when he saw something flash. He leaned forward steadying the glasses with two hands. There it was again, this time he could see a wisp of smoke rising. He dropped the glasses squinting then put them back to his eyes.

  He stepped behind Commander Hawkins, having to push past Carver, who gave him a hard look. He tapped Hawkin’s shoulder and handed the binoculars to him. He pointed, “Something’s happening at the river mouth. I saw something.”

  Commander Hawkins pushed Carver over and took his position, leaving the driving duties to his second in command. He put the glasses to his eyes and adjusted the focus. He concentrated on the spot. He saw a wisp of smoke and then the brief flash of something bright. The boat was cruising down the coastline, the river inlet becoming more clear with every foot. He dropped the binoculars and yelled to Carver, “Something happening at the river mouth. Move forward and tell the gunners to be ready.” Carver reached for the binoculars, but Hawkins shook his head, “No time. Alert the gunners. Now.”

  Carver slung his Thompson and shuffled his way forward, careful to keep his grip on part of the boat at all times. He passed the message, and the gunners primed their weapons and turned their big barrels towards the river.

  Carver stayed beside the forward 20mm gunner and unslung his Thompson. He crouched with one arm holding his weapon the other holding the boat. The gunner glanced at him and leaned close. “Move out of the way or the spent shell casings will burn you.”

  Carver looked at the ejector port beside him. He shook his head. I must be losing it, stupid. He didn’t say anything but moved to the right and behind the gunner.

  As they came within two hundred yards of the inlet, Carver could see beige blobs beside the river. There were occasional flashes and wisps of smoke. He knew there was a firefight going happening. He pulled back the primer on his Thompson. He knew his weapon would be almost useless at this range, but he wanted to be ready. He could see firing coming from the tree-line. That’s gotta be O’Connor and Gomez. His heart rate quickened as the coming combat raced at him full-speed.

  He looked back at Commander Hawkins, who was watching the battle through binoculars. Hawkins leaned toward Ensign Hanks’ ear and said something. The boat turned out to sea slightly. Carver realized he was putting the boat more broadside to the coastline, allowing every gun a shot at the battle.

  The situation developed quickly, but Carver saw the Japanese on the riverbank firing towards the jungle. If the PT boat gunners opened up too soon, O’Connor and Gomez would be directly behind the line of fire. He yelled trying to get Hawkins’s attention, but he was still glued to the binoculars getting ready to tell his gunners to fire. He had his hand up like he was starting a race. When he dropped it BM smitty would relay the order to the gunners, and all hell would break loose.

  Carver slapped the 20mm gunner’s leg. He ignored it, concentrating on BM Smitty and tracking his barrel along the backs of the Japanese soldiers. Carver was about to stand and get the gunner’s attention, but Commander Hawkins’ hand went down, and Smitty yelled, “Open fire!”

  The rumble of the engines at full throttle was overcome by the powerful hammering of three deck guns firing on full automatic.

  Carver watched as the river erupted in geysers and the sand around the beige blobs exploded as if it were an artillery strike.

  There were fifteen seconds of sustained fire before BM Smitty relayed Hawkins’s call for a cease-fire. The target area was engulfed in dust and water spray. The boat continued at full speed passing the river mouth. The guns traversed keeping their targets covered. Carver strained to see the jungle beyond the carnage, but he only got glimpses of green.

  The boat turned ninety degrees out to sea. It traveled forty yards before turning sharply back towards the beach. Carver was straining, trying to see his lost soldiers. He gripped his Thompson cursing the gunners for firing while his men were in the line of fire. The image of their shredded bodies flashed across his mind. He didn’t know if he’d be able to restrain himself if Hawkins had killed his men.

  As the boat approached forty yards, it turned ninety degrees again and slowed to a few knots. The boat slumped forward sending up a wake that traveled up the river current like the back of an immense body. The waves lapped against the shore, licking the boots of dead Japanese soldiers.

  The air cleared, and Carver could see movement along the jungle line. The gunner beside him swiveled his barrel to the spot, and Carver stepped in front. “Those are my men, goddammit. Hold fire.” Carver looked at Commander Hawkins, whose face went white when he met his eyes. He didn’t have to speak, Hawkins could see the murder in his eyes.

  Sergeant Carver saw someone stumble out of the jungle on unsteady legs. Carver didn’t hesitate, he launched himself into the sea and started swimming until his feet touched the sloping sand bottom. He waded out of the sea, and unslung his Thompson, ready to kill any Japanese that had survived. He lowered his weapon when he saw the mass of body parts intertwined like a nightmare goulash. He could hardly tell they were human, the only clues, bits of hands, boots, and rifles.

  He ran towards the tall figure in the jungle. He recognized O’Connor and couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across his lips. He heard O’Connor’s voice and saw him waving.

  A new sound joined the fight and O’Connor thought it was the happiest sound he’d ever heard. The heavy thumping of machine guns coming from the PT boat. The Japanese were in full view with no cover. O’Connor yelled, “Stay down, stay down.” Gomez stopped firing and buried his head into the jungle floor. The heavy machine guns cut a deadly swath into the Japanese, but O’Connor and Gomez were in the line of fire. Stray bullets from the powerful fifty caliber machine gun would tear them apart the same way it was destroying the Japanese.

  The machine gun fire was intense but slackened and stopped after what seemed an eternity. O’Connor lifted his head and looked over at the motionless Gomez. He called, “Gomez, Gomez. You hit?” He dropped his M1 and lunged over to his side. He reached out to turn him over, but when he touched him, Gomez exploded with violence and slammed his fist into O’Connor’s cheek. He was about to hit him again, but O’Connor threw himself onto his back. Gomez thrashed around but O’Connor talked him down. “Easy does it. It’s over. Easy”

  Gomez stopped struggling, and O’Connor could see reason returning to his crazed eyes. He was breathing hard. He shook his head, “Sorry.” He reached out, “You Okay?”

  O’Connor touched his cheek and nodded. He pointed to the PT boat which was turning away from the beach at high speed. “Let’s get outta here.”

  O’Connor stood and with his M1 over his head, walked out of the jungle. Gomez stayed crouched trying to shake off the uncontrollable shaking that wracked his body.

  O’Connor kept a close eye on the Japanese soldiers scattered around the beach. The PT boat slowed and turned back towards them. Every gun aimed at him.

  Someone on the PT boat yelled, and O’Connor saw a big man jump off the boat. He landed in deep water but swam until he
could touch, then pushed his way through. He was grinning like a crazy man. O’Connor waved, “That you, Carver?”

  64

  The boat ride back to base was uneventful. O’Connor and Gomez couldn’t keep from grinning. Sergeant Carver thanked Commander Hawkins. Hawkins asked Sergeant Carver, “What would you have done if your men got hit?”

  Carver gave him a hard look then said, “Guess we’ll never know.” Hawkins knew the answer.

  They left Puruata Island and found a ride back to Hill 260. The ride back was a blur full of bouncing potholes and muddy corners. They were exhausted, barely able to keep themselves from falling asleep and falling out.

  The jeep churned to the top of the hill, and the men rolled themselves out. The driver didn’t waste any time. He whipped the jeep around and headed back to the safety of the headquarters compound.

  The three ragged soldiers were met by Lieutenant Swan and Sergeant Milo. They stood in a loose formation swaying like grass in a high wind.

  Lieutenant Swan looked them over. “Welcome back men. You’ve had quite an ordeal.” They stared at him, barely comprehending his words. “Get some chow and rack time. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you for the next ten hours.” He stepped forward noticing the gash along the side of O’Connor’s head. The blood had stopped flowing, but the side of his head was encrusted with dried blood. “Get that wound looked at first, Corporal.” He looked the other men over and noticed Carver’s gashed cheek. “You too, Sergeant.” Carver touched the gash, and remembered the wound.

  Swan continued “Before I let you go, I want you to know the maps you stole from that Jap internment camp are proving invaluable. Intelligence thinks they’re the real deal.” The men were losing focus; barely able to keep their eyes open. He slapped Carver on the shoulder, “Get some rest. See you in the morning.”