by Chris Glatte
Gomez nodded and took off. Carver watched as the tanks ate up the ground. Japanese soldiers rose up and joined the advancing tanks with renewed energy. Another volley of 47mm shots tore up more of the trench sending GIs sprawling. Carver leaned over the trench and fired at a group of soldiers hustling to get behind a tank. His shots lanced across them and sparked off the tank’s armor.
With each foot of ground the tanks advanced, their accuracy increased. They’d taken out two machine gun nests and destroyed large sections of the trench. If the tanks weren’t stopped in the next few minutes, they’d be forced to retreat and may not be able to hold the hill.
The welcome sound of artillery made Carver look up. He watched as rounds flew over and impacted on the slope. The first volley landed behind the tanks sending up plumes of black earth and jungle debris.
The tanks increased their speed trying to close with the trench line before the artillery could adjust. Carver slid down to the bottom of the trench as the next volley landed amongst the tanks, but almost on top of their own positions. He saw Gomez scurrying in a crouch towards him with two wide-eyed soldiers following. One was carrying a bazooka tube on his shoulder, the other a bag of rockets.
Carver yelled, “Bring that stovepipe and follow me.” He moved along the trench, back to the machine gun crew. They hunkered beneath their helmets. Carver slapped the gunner’s shoulder and yelled into his ear. “We’re moving down this trench to get beside the tanks.” He looked at him like he’d lost his mind then saw the bazooka team and understood. “After we’ve shot, give us some covering fire, but give yourself time to get the hell out of here.”
Carver nodded at O’Connor, Gomez and the bazooka team. “Let’s go.” He leaped over the sandbags covering the machine gun nest and dropped into the trench leading down. He didn’t wait for the others. He ran in a crouch down the trench with his Thompson muzzle leading the way.
He stopped and poked his head over the side. The tanks were coming despite the artillery fire. One tank was burning. Flames leaped from a gaping hole in the front plate. A direct hit. The other GIs slid into him. He pointed further down the trench. “Gomez, head down there and make sure no Japs come up.” Gomez nodded, holding his helmet as dirt rained down. He moved ten yards, went into a prone position and put his M1 to his shoulder. Carver pointed to the bazooka team. “Those tanks will be beside us in a minute or two. Load that pipe and get ready.”
The loader nodded and put his ammo pouch on the ground. He opened the flap and pulled out an M6 rocket. The gunner put the launcher on his shoulder but stayed beneath the lip of the trench. The loader slid the rocket into the back of the tube and armed it. He carefully pushed the rocket until it latched into place then unfurled the firing wire and wrapped it around the contact spring. He tapped the gunner’s helmet.
The gunner looked to Sergeant Carver. “Ready, Sarge.” He licked his dry lips and tried to swallow. “Let me know when they’re beside us.”
Carver nodded and peered over the edge. The tanks were only thirty yards away. The artillery had moved down the hill, continuing to kill and maim Japanese. A bullet slammed into the ground in front of him, and he ducked down. “In ten seconds he’ll be right beside us. It’ll be a broadside shot, you ready?” the gunner mouthed a prayer and nodded. “I’ll give you covering fire while you’re shooting, but make it quick, they’re onto us.”
Carver counted down, “five, four, three, two, one, now.” He and O’Connor rose up and fired at the Japanese soldiers following the nearest tank. The bazooka gunner rose up to his full height and leveled the tube at the tank. It looked huge. He aimed for the turret joint and squeezed the trigger. There was a flash and a whoosh as the rocket left the tube. It streaked at the tank and hit below the turret and exploded. It penetrated enough of the thin side armor to ignite the inside with hot metal and fire. The tank slewed to the side and stopped. Smoke and flame spit from the hole.
The smoke trail from the rocket left little doubt where the shot had come from, and soon the air above the trench was alive with bullets. At the same moment, Gomez yelled and fired in quick succession. Carver swung his Thompson down the trench line as Japanese soldiers came running up. He shot over Gomez who was on his belly reloading. The sides of the trench exploded with the heavy slugs and hid the devastation of the dying Japanese. O’Connor stepped to the side of Carver with his M1 on his shoulder and added to the deadly fire.
Carver burned through his magazine and as he reloaded yelled at the bazooka team to move back up the line. They scurried away, back up the trench. They stopped after fifteen yards, and the gunner put the tube back on his shoulder. The right side of his face was dark red from the blast of heat from the bazooka tube.
The loader pulled another M6 rocket and pushed it into the breach. When wired and ready he tapped the gunner’s helmet. The gunner took a deep breath and rose up searching for another target. There was another tank further away but farther up the hill, almost to the bunker line. He leveled the tube and was about to pull the trigger when the back of his head exploded in gray matter and blood. He pitched back into the loader who caught his falling body.
At first, the loader thought he’d tripped, but the blood and gore told a different story. He looked down the trench and saw Carver and O’Connor coming at him full speed. Gomez walked backward firing intermittently, covering their retreat.
Carver saw the dead gunner and pointed at the loader, “Check the gun, I’ll fire.” The loader stared, frozen in shock. Carver slapped him hard across the jaw. “Pull your shit together or you die, soldier.”
The GI shook his head and gritted his teeth in anger. “You son-of-a-bitch, no need to hit me.”
Carver ignored him and slung his Thompson and lifted the bazooka to his shoulder. He’d fired one a few times in training. He remembered they weren’t very accurate unless you were close.
O’Connor said, “I’ll pop up and shoot from down there,” he pointed down the trench, “draw their fire away from you.” Carver nodded. O’Connor moved down the trench a couple of yards and said, “Now.” He rose up and fired until his M1 pinged. He ducked down as bullets whizzed and slammed around him. At the same instant, Carver stood and saw the backside of the tank he would kill. He only had a second to align the shot or he’d die. He blotted out the tank and pulled the trigger. The heat from the tube was intense, and he flung it away as he dropped behind the trench.
The rocket sliced into the back of the type 97 tank at its thinnest point. The engine exploded sending shards of hot metal into the fuel. Within seconds the tank was engulfed in flame. None of the five-man crew emerged.
Carver didn’t know he’d killed the tank; he valued his head too much to look. He moved up the trench holding the bazooka by the fore grip. The loader yelled. “The launcher’s fried, Sarge. Leave it.” Carver dropped it and noticed the bullet holes along its length. He didn’t remember taking the hits. He continued moving up the trench.
He yelled out to the machine gun nest so they wouldn’t mistake them for Japs, but when he rounded the corner, there was no sign of them. He looked up to the top of Hill 260 and saw a plume of smoke spouting like a massive, white thundercloud. “Shit, that’s the signal for retreat. We gotta hurry, or we’ll get caught back here.”
They leaped over the sandbags and looked down the trench line. The only GIs he saw were dead. A Japanese soldier came around the corner, and his eyes went wide. Carver shot him with a short burst, and he went down.
The connector trench leading up the hill was just ahead, it would provide them with cover if they could get to it. He didn’t think they’d live long on the surface.
He pulled a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. He charged towards the entrance to the connector. He could see movement in the overrun machine gun nest beyond. He threw the grenade, hoping there were no GIs still alive in there. He yelled, “Grenade!” and dove to the ground holding his helmet. There was a soft whump as the grenade went off in the close confines of the bu
nker. He sprang up and ran the few feet to the connector trench. The others were right on his tail.
The connector trench was open, and Carver led the way. Gomez and O’Connor took turns covering the rear and the loader, Private Tavers moved behind Carver. They had yet to come across any friendly troops. The thumping of mortar rounds crashed around them, covering the American retreat.
Carver came to a corner and slid to a stop. He peered around and jerked back. He signaled to the others. They nodded, and he moved away from the corner. Private Tavers and Corporal O’Connor filled the space and pulled grenades from their belts. They pulled the pins and threw them around the corner then pressed their backs against the wall. There was a brief yell of surprise, then the explosion. O’Connor went around the corner with his M1 and fired into the smoking bodies, but they were already dead. He gave the others a thumbs up, and Sergeant Carver moved past him taking the lead.
He slowed his pace. There was still shooting, and the thumping of mortars, but the fire coming from the friendly lines was almost non-existent. It seemed Lieutenant Swan had them in a headlong retreat.
He could see the command bunker ahead. Barrels were sticking out spewing fire down the hill. Carver was glad to see it. He poked his head over the trench. They were ahead of the Japanese. Must be clearing out the next line of bunkers.
He looked for the tanks and noticed the burning hulk of the one he’d taken out. He wondered how it would be to die in such a flaming horror.
The rest of the tanks were making their way up the slope. It was more difficult the higher they went because the ground steepened, and there were more obstacles they had to maneuver around rather than over. They were making headway though.
Behind each tank, dozens of Japanese troops struggled over the ground. Carver wondered why they weren’t using the trench system. Whatever the reason he was glad they hadn’t figured it out yet. It allowed he and his men to move back to their lines without being exposed.
He slowed when he came to another corner. The command bunker was off to the left. He recognized this as the final turn before it spilled into the main trench system. The others crouched watching the rear.
Carver leaned around the corner and immediately pulled back as bullets slapped into the dirt walls, sending dust and debris into his face. He spit out dirt and yelled. “Friendlies, friendlies! Ceasefire. Sergeant Carver here.” He waited, but there was no response. He tried again. “You hear me? Friendlies coming out.”
A dim voice called, “Who you say you were again?”
“Carver, Sergeant Carver.” Bullets sprayed down the line and Carver covered his head. When it stopped he yelled, “Goddamit, you sons-of-bitches, knock it off.”
The voice yelled back, “Carver’s dead you Jap sumbitch.”
“Dammit, you moronic fuckhead, cease fire. I’m not dead.”
No fire came, but the voice questioned, “Sarge?” Carver extended his hand around the corner. When it didn’t get shot off, he moved his body into the line of fire with his Thompson aiming to the sky. “It is you. We thought you were dead. The machine gunners said they saw you go down trying to kill those damned tanks.”
Sergeant Carver didn’t waste time talking but waved the men forward. As Gomez passed him, he caught movement coming up the trench. He went onto his belly bringing the Thompson to his shoulder. A surprised Japanese soldier with a snub-nosed burp gun filled his sights, and Carver unleashed a steady stream of bullets into him. The soldier convulsed backward into more troops. Carver emptied his magazine then pushed himself around the corner as bullets slammed into the wall. He was on his hands and knees crawling towards the sandbagged safety of his lines. O’Connor was there sighting over his head waiting for the first Jap to show himself. He saw a dark object hit the wall at the corner and he dove for the dirt and yelled, “Grenade.”
Carver went flat, and the grenade exploded mere yards away. He winced as he felt hot metal slice into his leg. O’Connor was up and helping Carver to his feet. Yelling alerted him and he watched as a Japanese soldier slid around the corner with death in his eyes. The Jap had the drop on him, but before he could fire there was a chorus of shooting from behind and the soldier dropped with multiple gunshot wounds.
Gomez sprinted to the other side of Carver, his gun smoking. Together they hefted him over the sandbags. Once clear, the GIs guarding the trench opened fire as more Japs came around the corner.
They got to the top of the hill as bullets whizzed through the air. The rest of the GIs retreated behind them, and the machine guns in the command bunker stopped firing and pulled back.
The Japanese were in full attack. Their objective was in sight, and the thought of victory had them crazed. The GIs retreated, covering one another as they went. Sergeant Carver was between Gomez and O’Connor. Private Tavers covered them with his M1 Garand. The tanks crested the hill and fired into the command bunker. One 47mm shell went through a firing port and exploded inside. Debris and fire shot out the gunport slits.
As they retreated, Carver thought they’d be shot in the back any second. They passed the dug-in turret of a Sherman tank and Carver remembered Lt. Swan mentioning them covering their retreat. True to his word the Shermans were waiting to blast the oncoming Type 97 tanks.
As enemy troops spilled onto the top of the hill, they were cut down by the .30 caliber Browning machine guns poking out from the middle of the Sherman’s. The main 75mm gun fired making Carver flinch. The immediate clang behind them signaled a hit. Carver couldn’t turn around, but he could feel the heat of the exploding Type 97 tank.
Gomez and O’Connor continued helping him down the hill. The tanks fired, and machine gunned the oncoming Japanese forces but were forced to pull back as enemy tanks worked to flank them.
The GIs got to the bottom of the hill and threw Sergeant Carver into the back of a troop truck. It was full of wounded and started churning down the muddy road, retreating towards the north knob. O’Connor hoped it wouldn’t be targeted by any Japanese tanks.
Three of the five Shermans were backing down the hill with their main guns and .30 calibers firing. They were driving blind, not willing to turn their lighter armored backsides to the guns of the Type 97s.
One of the Sherman’s backed into a tree which shuddered but stopped the momentum of the tank. The treads struggled, continuing to grind into the obstacle but the tree wasn’t moving. The driver reversed direction, but the treads dug into soft ground. The top hatch opened, and the tank commander popped up grabbing the handles of the fifty caliber machine gun mounted on top. He primed the weapon and sent a stream of bullets into a Japanese tank. The enemy tank sparked as the heavy bullets chipped at its steel front.
The front machine gun of the Japanese tank slewed in his direction and fired a long stream. For five seconds the two machine gunners exchanged fire until the Sherman tank commander lurched and fell back into the tank. The 75mm gun on the Sherman took aim while the Japanese tank did the same. Both fired simultaneously, and both took hits. The Sherman’s shell hit the Type 97 in the turret joint, and the tank’s turret popped off the base like a children’s toy. For a brief second O’Connor could see the surprised face of the suddenly exposed driver before the turret slammed down and crushed him.
The Sherman was spewing smoke and fire from the gaping hole the Japanese shell left. Hatches opened, and men clawed and struggled to get out. Two made it before the Sherman went up in flames. A man screamed as he was halfway out the top hatch, flames burst through and consumed him.
The two surviving tankers ran down the hill following the two remaining Shermans. Their uniforms smoked and smoldered, and their faces were black where their goggles didn’t cover.
O’Connor punched Gomez in the arm, “Let’s give ‘em cover.” He ran back towards the hill and crouched behind a fallen tree. He placed his rifle on the trunk and sighted down searching for targets. It didn’t take long to find a Japanese soldier leaping down the hill firing at the retreating tankers. O’Connor pulle
d the trigger and watched as the man took the bullet in the belly and fell forward. Gomez was firing, and Private Tavers joined them with his M1 Garand.
The remaining Shermans passed them and once on the road turned forward. They kept muzzles pointing backward and never stopped firing. The two tankers on foot were running for their lives. Bullets smacked into logs and rocks all around them. O’Connor stood up, waved his arms and yelled. The tankers saw him and sprinted for them.
Japanese were coming down the hill, not taking the time to aim, but firing as they ran. O’Connor dropped one, and Private Tavers hit another. Gomez shouldered his rifle as the tankers leaped behind the cover of the tree. They were breathing hard, sweat and grime dripping from their faces.
O’Connor pointed towards the retreating tanks. “Follow them. We’ll cover you.” They didn’t hesitate and took off down the road. The three GIs fired until their weapons were empty and quickly reloaded. The pursuing Japanese were more careful now.
Bullets thunked into the downed tree. O’Connor pulled the remaining grenades from his belt, and the others did the same. “On the count of three, we’ll throw, wait for the explosions then run like hell.” They nodded and pulled the pins. “One, two, three.” They threw the grenades as far up the hill as they could. When they exploded, all three jumped to their feet and ran after the tankers.
Private Tavers took three steps and yelled out as two bullets lanced through his back and exited his chest. Blood sprayed the back of O’Connor. He turned in time to see the life leave Taver’s eyes. He stopped and was about to run back for him, but Taver’s body was raked over with more bullets. Gomez grabbed O’Connor’s arm and pulled him up the road. “Leave him. He’s gone.”