The 164th Regiment Series Boxset

by Chris Glatte

  Swan fired from the hip and caught the nearest soldier in the gut, but not before he fired his submachine gun. Three bullets slammed into Swan’s side and he spun backwards.

  O’Connor saw him go down and yelled, “No!” He jumped out of cover and fired at the soldier who’d shot, then spun and fired into the seemingly endless mass of Japanese. He felt a bullet slice past his ear. The quick pain and the sight of Swan going down enraged him. He ran toward the enemy and fired until he was out of ammo. He didn’t have time to reload.

  A short, skinny soldier was running at him with death in his eyes. O’Connor lunged his barrel into his gut as hard as he could. The sickening pressure release as the barrel forced its way into the soldier’s body made O’Connor drop the M1. The Japanese screamed and looked at him as if he’d cheated. O’Connor whipped out his K-bar knife and slashed down on the soldier’s face. He cut his cheek to the bone and the Japanese fell to the ground clutching the wound.

  O’Connor stepped over him and slashed at the next soldier who was running past, charging the MG nest. O’Connor’s knife sliced into his shoulder as he passed and he howled but kept his forward momentum. Another Japanese was directly in front of him. He was bringing his rifle up to shoot O’Connor in the chest. O’Connor sprang and got inside the rifle’s arc. He slammed the K-bar into the soldier’s gut and twisted it back out. With his free hand he punched the soldier in the face and bits of tooth and gristle flew from his mouth. O’Connor felt his hand break, but there was no pain. He was in a fury.

  Another soldier ran past him and he lunged but missed. O’Connor went down on his stomach and landed on the bloody back of a dead soldier. He rolled to his back in time to see a Japanese soldier lunging his bayonet toward him. There was no time to react. The blade came at him and he wondered what the cold metal would feel like. At the last instant there was a roar of fire and the Japanese soldier was simply no longer there. The only thing left was his rifle sticking out of O’Connor’s side, pinning him to the dead soldier beneath him.

  The pain lanced through his body and seemed to freeze his blood. He became light headed and tried to stay conscious, but the pain was wafting through him in waves and he struggled to keep the world in focus. He looked at the wound. The bayonet was stuck to the hilt. He thought it looked like some grotesque limb he’d suddenly grown. The world felt cold and his vision closed around him.

  94

  Platoon Sergeant Carver sat beside Corporal O’Connor’s bedside like he’d done everyday for the past two weeks. O’Connor’s condition had improved, but there were a few days early on when the doctors weren’t sure if he’d survive. The bayonet had nicked his kidney and he’d almost bled to death. He’d been rushed back to Sibulan and stabilized. After a long surgery to stem the bleeding and repair the artery, he’d been shipped back to Cebu City which now had a more permanent field hospital.

  Carver had sat with him as he suffered through infection and fever. He’d listened to his mumblings and rantings as he seemed to relive the entire war. His body burned with infection, but now seemed to be stabilizing. The doctors thought he should be waking up soon and Carver wanted to be the first person he saw.

  It was 1 AM when Carver was jolted from an uneasy sleep by the words, “Where am I?”

  Carver leaned forward and could see O’Connor’s shining eyes in the darkness. The puckered slash along his scalp from the near miss was still visible. They’d shaved his head so they could stitch the wound shut, and the bald spot shone. He reached out and touched O’Connor’s hand. O’Connor pulled back like he’d been hit with an electric shock. “Easy does it. It’s me, Carver. You’re safe in a hospital. Take it easy.”

  O’Connor went up on an elbow and winced at the pain. Carver pushed him back down. “Let me get the light.” He reached back and flicked on the desk lamp. The soft glow made O’Connor blink and hold up his hand. “You’ve been out awhile.”

  O’Connor kept his eyes shut. “How long?”

  “We pulled you out of the jungle two weeks ago. You’ve had surgery and had to fight a nasty infection, but the docs seem to think you’re gonna make it.”

  O’Connor opened his eyes and stared at Carver. “Did. Did Swan make it? I remember him getting hit.”

  Carver dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head. “There was nothing we could do. You broke the back of the attack with your crazy charge. The Japs fought like they always do, but you turned the tide. By the time we beat them back, Swan was already dead.”

  O’Connor shut his eyes hard. The line of his mouth a white slit. He muttered, “Dammit.”

  “The men took it hard. He was a fine officer. He fought the Japs off long enough to get the MG up and running again. That, along with your heroics made the difference.”

  O’Connor shook his head. “Heroics?” he rubbed his eyes remembering the confused look of the young Japanese soldier he’d thrust his rifle into. “It wasn’t heroic.”

  Carver nodded. “I know. I know what it was. It was war.” He looked at O’Connor. “I’m so sick of this fucking war,” he growled.

  O’Connor looked at his Platoon Sergeant and friend. “How’s Lilly?”

  The name seemed to snap Carver from his revelry. His eyes lit up at her name, but he shook his head and quickly stifled the feeling. “She’s fine as far as I know. Haven’t heard from her in a while. The mail hasn’t been coming on a regular basis. Something to do with supply.”

  O’Connor winced as a shot of pain rode through his body. “If she’s half as lovestruck as you are, I’m sure she’s still interested.”

  “Carver looked across the room and out the window to the green jungle. “Sometimes I think I should tell her to find someone else. Someone who’s not liable to die in the next few months.”

  “That’s bullshit. You both knew what you were getting into.” Carver nodded and O’Connor adjusted his pillow. “Where they sending us next you think?”

  Carver shook his head. “The Japs are finished in the Philippines. We’re staying here on Cebu for the foreseeable future.” O’Connor raised his eyebrow waiting for the other shoe to drop. Carver smiled. “Can’t fool you.” He looked O’Connor in the eye. “The 164th is slated to be the first wave on the shores of Japan. We’re invading the home island.”

  O’Connor nodded his head. “I should be healed up just in time for that show.” He looked across the room. There were GIs wrapped in white gauze, some with legs and arms suspended, healing broken bones. “That’ll make everything we’ve done up to this point look like a damned picnic,” he whispered. Carver nodded and O’Connor’s gaze softened. “I’ll do everything I can to be ready.”

  A month later, O’Connor still felt sore, but he’d been out of the hospital for a week and was back on his feet. The doctor told him to take it easy, but O’Connor needed to get off his back. He needed to start getting strong. He had to be ready for the final invasion. He had to be ready to die beside the soldier’s who’d been a part of his life for the past three years. He’d started with short walks around the base, then longer walks, then finally, jogs. He never ventured outside the compound. He didn’t know why at first, but realized he was afraid of seeing things that would bring back memories of Celine.

  A part of him desperately wanted to go find her grave, but that would mean finding the Filipinos who’d fought with her. He didn’t want to reopen a wound which had so recently been scabbed over. He didn’t want to relive losing her, so he stayed in the compound and slowly worked himself back to fighting shape.

  He was sitting on the bunk when the doctor came in and sat beside him. O’Connor didn’t much like doctors, but this one had saved his life so he cut him a break. “It’s time for you to rejoin your unit, soldier.” O’Connor nodded, and the doctor continued. “You’ve recovered remarkably well. Your tenacity to get better is a tribute to yourself and the Army.”

  O’Connor stood and saluted the Captain. The doctor saluted him back, then extended his hand. O’Connor took it and t
hey shook. “In this job, I’ve put a lot of soldiers back together then sent them right back out to die. I wish I could send you home, but this coming push is too vital. They need every man.”

  O’Connor shook his head slightly. “I wouldn’t allow it, sir.” He grinned. “Even if you ordered it, I would’ve disobeyed and rejoined my unit.” The doctor dropped his hand and gave him a questioning look. “I’m supposed to die over here. I’ve no doubt of that now. We’re invading Japan. Every Jap kid, old man, woman and girl will have it in for us. You heard about the suicides on Iwo and Okinawa?” The Captain looked at his boots and nodded. “Killing themselves rather than being captured? They’re out of their minds. Japan will be a blood bath. We’re supposed to be the first wave. Hell, we probably won’t make it off the beach.”

  The Captain stiffened. “That’s not a great attitude, soldier.”

  O’Connor shrugged. “I’ll fight. I always do, just not expecting to come out the other side in one piece.”

  The news traveled through the compound like a wild-fire in the Santa Anna Winds. The war in Europe was over. The news caught up to Platoon Sergeant Carver while he was watching new recruits forming up for a morning session of physical training.

  Raw recruits had been flowing onto Cebu for a month now, shoring up the GI losses from enemy fire, jungle disease and rot. The battle for Okinawa was still raging. The Japanese continued to fight for every inch of ground, despite being outnumbered, outgunned, and malnourished. Despite their tenacity, there was little doubt of the outcome.

  He heard the news from an ecstatic new sergeant, named Hutchinson. “Did you hear the news, Platoon Sergeant? The war’s over. May 7th’s gonna be a day to remember.”

  For an instant Carver saw a glimmer of hope poke through his death shroud. “What’re you talking about, Sergeant?”

  “The Germans surrendered. The war in Europe’s over. Hitler’s dead.”

  The light extinguished. “The Japs didn’t surrender.”

  Hutchinson’s smile faded. “Well, no. But they’ll have to now. I mean it’s them against the world. They can’t win.”

  Carver turned his back on the sergeant. “You’ve got a lot to learn about the Japs, Sergeant.” He tried to protest, but Carver cut him off. “Get your squad on their feet.” He pointed to the distant hill to the north. “You’ve got one hour to get your men to the top of that hill and back. You’ll have to double time to make it.”

  The sergeant’s color drained. “But shouldn’t we celebrate our victory? Don’t the men deserve a party or something?”

  Carver clenched his jaw and looked at his watch. “Time’s-a-wasting.”

  The men of the Americal Division were training hard for the invasion. Cebu Island became a bustling hive of activity. GIs from other divisions were spread throughout the island. Tent cities were springing up, seemingly overnight.

  The 164th Regiment was up to full strength and Carver was happy to have Sergeant O’Connor back. O’Connor’s heroics on southeastern Negros had caught the attention of a general in the 40th Division. He’d inquired and found out about his recent transfer and demotion. He was appalled to find that a soldier who’d earned the Silver Star Medal on Guadalcanal would be treated so poorly. He immediately re-instated him to Sergeant and transferred him back to his long-time unit. A letter of reprimand was put into Captain Flannigan’s file, forever nullifying his hope for higher rank.

  With the war in Europe over, the focus was to defeat Japan. The attention of the entire world was focused on the Pacific Theater in a way never seen before. Suddenly they could have anything they wanted whenever they wanted it. They had new weapons, new uniforms, new boots, whatever they asked for, they got.

  For the veterans, all the hubbub didn’t mean much. They’d still have to assault the beaches and fight tooth and nail for every inch of Japanese soil. So, they trained hard.

  O’Connor’s wound ached most days, particularly during the mock assaults when he low crawled up the beach under mock enemy fire. The pain and the training helped to focus his mind, and for a while he didn’t think about Major Celine Cruz. He still hadn’t ventured from the American compound. He wanted to visit Celine’s family or at the very least, visit her final resting place, but he couldn’t find the courage to face it.

  On August 6th, 1945 the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima Japan. Three days later, a second was dropped on Nagasaki. Both cities were wiped off the map along with hundreds of thousands of Japanese citizens.

  For the men of the 164th, news filtered down that something big had happened, but there were no specifics and the training continued.

  On August 15th, 1945 the 164th Regiment was formed up looking sharp in the morning heat. Platoon Sergeant Carver stood at attention along with the rest of the men. Captain Stark, alongside Colonel Mathieson called the men to attention and they snapped into tight formation with straight backs and rifles.

  Colonel Mathieson stepped forward and bellowed. “Men. I have the honor to deliver to you the greatest news any commander of fighting men can deliver. Today, the Japanese have finally seen the light and have agreed to surrender.” He stood staring at the men, who stared back. The only sound was the light breeze shifting the American flag hanging limp on the flagpole. The moment passed and the men stole glances sideways at each other. The colonel raised his voice. “The war’s over!”

  Like an inadequate levy holding back rising rain water, the first break was small, a low murmuring, then the floodwaters took over and the men, like the water were dancing and screaming. Sergeant Carver couldn’t seem to process the information. He stood stock still. A passing private whose grin was ear to ear slapped him on the shoulder. The jolt, shook him from his revelry. His mind kept repeating the phrase he’d just heard, the war’s over, the war’s over.

  He looked to Sergeant O’Connor who was staring at him from across the yard. Between them, men danced and backslapped. O’Connor smiled, his sideways hick smile and waded through the men, accepting handshakes and backslaps. He finally arrived beside Carver. O’Connor extended his hand and Carver stared at it for a moment then reached out and shook. No words came, but the look they shared was full of the hellish journey they’d traveled together from the very beginning.

  Carver’s eyes went dark and without having to tell his old friend what he was thinking, O’Connor knew. “Did you send the letter?” Carver gave an imperceptible nod. The pain in his eyes was obvious. “Send her another one.”

  Carver shook his head. “Can’t believe the war’s over. It’s like a dream.” He released O’Connor’s hand and strode through the celebrating GIs. He found Colonel Mathieson and strode up to him. He was with a cluster of officers and they were laughing and back-slapping too. Carver noticed O’Connor following behind. Carver snapped to attention and saluted.

  Colonel Mathieson finally noticed him and returned a half-hearted salute. “Congratulations, Platoon Sergeant. You made it!”

  “So, it’s true? The Japs really surrendered?”

  Mathieson grinned and nodded. “Nothing’s been signed yet, they’re still working that stuff out, but they’ve issued a cease fire order to their commanders. Of course, it could be days before some get the word, but it’s really happening. I expect they’ll make it official in the next couple of weeks.”

  Carver nodded and turned back to O’Connor. “I’ll be damned.”

  95

  A week later, Carver sat on a wooden ammunition crate under the shade of a palm tree. Beside him was a stack of letters. He closed his eyes thinking of Lilly. He thought of her big hands holding the pencil that wrote the words, wishing he could feel their warmth. He thought of the hammock in the jungle they’d shared on those hot steamy nights as they explored each other’s bodies. The passion and joy he’d felt seemed out of reach now.

  The mail finally got through and he had a stack from her. He cherished each letter. He’d written her back and told her he’d understand if she wanted to find someone not living in a co
mbat zone. He hadn’t heard from her since. It had only been a couple of weeks and he knew the mail delivery system was spotty at best, but he couldn’t help worrying that maybe she’d taken it to heart.

  With the war over he should be the happiest man in the world. He should be celebrating like the others, getting drunk every night and dancing into the wee hours of the morning, but he couldn’t shake the worry. The past four years had been filled with horror and loss. It was finally over and he felt worse than ever. His heart ached. He realized he needed Lilly like he needed oxygen.

  The buzz of another C-47 transport plane made him look to the horizon. The transport traffic had slowed since the Japanese surrender, but there were still three or four flights a day bringing food and other necessities. Some carried passengers. He watched the dull green plane grow as it neared. He saw the undercarriage open and watched the wheels lock into place.

  He thought about leaving his spot. He might get corralled into helping offload it if some asshole officer saw him loafing. He leaned back and decided to stay and watch it land. There were a few airfield personnel scattered about. They’d ignored the sullen Platoon Sergeant who always seemed to show up and sit under the palms at the side of the airstrip.

  Carver watched the transport make a perfect, three-point landing. A puff of dust on the wheels and it was rolling toward the taxiway. It pivoted and taxied almost directly at him, then turned broadside. He thought he better leave, it looked like they’d offload the cargo to his spot. He held the stack of letters. He stood and carefully stuffed them into his pants pocket. He stretched his legs and wondered where he should go for the rest of the day. It was hot, perhaps a swim in the bay.