by Chris Glatte
Soon the trucks, along with the rest of 1st platoon, were spread out among the cover of the trees. An hour later, the rest of the company arrived on foot. They didn’t look as chipper as they had at breakfast, but they looked far better than they had a day ago. Their perimeter expanded and soon the entire area was filled with tents, foxholes and slit trenches. A mess hall was erected complete with long wooden tables provided by local Filipinos.
Once the men were settled, Tarkington found a shady spot, sat and put his back against a perfect back-shaped Palm tree. He tilted his helmet forward and closed his eyes. A minute later he was jolted awake by someone’s presence. He lifted his helmet and peered up seeing three familiar faces. He smiled, “What are you guys doing up here?”
Eduardo’s grin went ear to ear, “We followed the caravan. We want to do more.”
“Do more? You’ve already done enough. You’re not military. You should be back with your families.”
Eduardo, who seemed to be their chosen spokesman shook his head, “We have no one. Our families caught on wrong side. We haven’t heard from them since December.” He said it as the most matter-of-fact thing in the world.
Tarkington scowled. “I’m really sorry to hear that. I had no idea. I thought you were Mariveles locals this whole time.”
Eduardo shrugged. “We grew up there, but settled east, close to Manila. When Japs come we were visiting home.” He shook his head, “Family in Manila.” He smiled. “We find them when US send help. Take back Luzon.”
Tarkington nodded, wondering for the thousandth time when that help would arrive. He got to his feet and looked them over. Their clothing, though torn in places looked clean. Thin shirts hung on their wiry frames as if on hangers in a closet. Each had a Springfield rifle. Though the wooden components were battered, chipped and dark with age and sweat, the metal gleamed without a hint of rust or corrosion. The rifles were nearly as long as they were.
Tarkington decided, “Stay here. I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll talk to the Lieutenant, see if I can get you guys attached to my squad.”
Nunez, the most diminutive of the three smiled and handed him something dark and shriveled. Tarkington put his hand out palm up and Nunez dropped it into his palm, “Show him this. We kill Japs.”
When Tarkington realized it was a shriveled human ear, he nearly dropped it, but instead shook his head and pushed his hand back toward Nunez. “Take it. He already knows you’re good soldiers.” Nunez shrugged and took the ear back, stuffing it into a pouch which looked to have more ears within.
As the day waned, Hotel Company continued to settle into their new home. The plateau overlooking the Tuol river was a beautiful place. Filipino First Regular Division soldiers manned the anti-aircraft guns dotting the edges of the plateau. There was a full company on the other side of the plateau. Now that Hotel Company was in place and ready in support, the company of Filipinos planned to move against the dug-in Japanese.
It was late in the day and they were formed up facing the river valley when the unmistakable sound of incoming artillery fire made everyone dive and scramble for cover. Tarkington dove into a slit trench. The first few shells landed in the center of the plateau and shook the ground. The second volley landed further north and continued marching toward the Filipino position.
When it was obvious the Filipinos were the target, Tarkington raised his helmeted head and watched as the shells erupted in the jungle. Trees uprooted and flashes of fire winked through the dimness. A secondary explosion rolled over the plateau as a cache of ammo blew up.
Five minutes later the barrage stopped, leaving behind swaying trees and raining dirt and rocks. Winkleman poked his head up beside Tarkington’s. “Jesus, that was accurate fire.”
Tarkington nodded, “I was thinking the same thing. There must be a spotter nearby. That artillery came from the front lines - no way they could get that lucky.”
“Jap radios go that far?”
Tarkington shrugged, “Good question. Seems unlikely they strung commo wire all the way.” There was yelling coming from the Filipino position and dark shapes darted back and forth. He pointed, “Glister’s sending our medics in to help.” He held his breath, hoping the movement wouldn’t draw more fire. “Poor bastards took a beating.”
They pulled themselves out of the slit trench and Tarkington walked through, checking on the squad. He found Lt. Smoker inside a sweltering tent sipping water and looking over a map. Platoon Sergeant McLunty was beside him chewing his ever-present stogie. McLunty saw Tarkington enter and stood up straight. “How are the men, Tarkington?” Lt. Smoker looked up from the map, a stern look on his face.
“Fine. How are the Filipinos after that pasting?”
Lieutenant Smoker answered. “Actually, their officers took a chance and rushed into the river valley when those first shells landed. They were out of the impact zone. Half the twenty-millimeter stockpile went up in smoke, but there were only a few minor injuries. If the Japs were waiting in the valley, it could’ve been a massacre, but the gamble paid off.”
“That’s good news.”
Smoker motioned him to join him at the map table. Platoon Sergeant McLunty moved his broad frame to the side, allowing a spot for Tarkington. Smoker placed his finger, “This is our little slice of heaven. The Japs are on this hill, as far as we know. The Filipinos are moving to contact. We’ll have a much better idea of exactly where the Nips are soon enough. Our job’s support. If the Filipinos get in over their heads we’re their reserve. Glister wants two platoons on short standby while the others relax, then they’ll rotate the next day.” He looked up at Tarkington. “We’re on tonight, so have your squad ready to go at a moment’s notice. I’ll pass the word to Lieutenant Govang.”
Tarkington nodded, stepped back and snapped off a salute. “Yes sir.”
He nodded to McLunty who nodded back, then asked, “How’re those Filipino civilians? They seem like good men to you?”
Tarkington could tell McLunty didn’t trust them. “They were helpful during the last battle. They kept their heads when the bullets were flying. They saved Raker’s ass, and mine.”
McLunty grunted. “Keep your eye on ‘em. They’re not GIs. Keep ‘em out of the way.”
Tarkington looked at Lt. Smoker who was concentrating on the map. He’d been the one to okay the Filipinos attaching to 2nd squad. McLunty had been against it and Tarkington could feel the tension it had created.
Tarkington nodded and stepped from the tent. He felt he’d stepped from a sauna. It was hot outside, but at least the occasional breeze made it tolerable. He thought about McLunty’s comment and decided to ignore it. He’d seen the Filipinos in action and knew he could trust their resolve.
The night was quiet until 2200. Tarkington was sleeping against his favorite palm tree, dreaming of a girl he’d gotten to third base with his senior year in high school. His eyes popped open when the dream girl’s face turned to a screaming Japanese soldier. He jolted forward and realized he was hearing distant gunfire. It was coming from the hill across the river. He rubbed the sleep from his crusty eyes and peered into the darkness. He could see flashes a quarter of the way up the hill.
He got to his feet and stretched the stiffness from his back. He moved closer to the edge of the field and crouched. The flashes of battle were much more visible. There was nothing to do but watch and hope the Filipinos could handle whatever they’d gotten into. The last thing he wanted to do was lead his squad into the jungle at night. He moved to the edge of the slit trench and sat on the edge, dangling his feet, watching the light show. There was the soft sound of snoring coming from the darkness.
He knew his night wouldn’t involve any more sleeping. He got to his feet and carefully moved behind the line of foxholes manned by two GIs: one awake, one asleep. Normally movement at night in a war zone was a good way to get shot, but this wasn’t the front lines. Indeed, most of the GIs were sacked out in hammocks strung from palm trees, not foxholes. Still, he made s
ure he made enough noise to not be mistaken for a sneaking Japanese soldier.
When he neared one of the furthest foxholes he heard Stollman’s challenge: “Babe.”
“Ruth,” he replied.
“That you Tark?”
Tarkington grinned. Stollman was the only GI who didn’t address him as Sergeant. For some reason, it was okay - natural. He never corrected the burly, long haired red-head. “Yeah, it’s me Stolly.” He sat on the back edge of the hole. Stollman had his bi-pod spread and his BAR aimed across the field toward the flashes of combat. “How’s it going over here?” He whispered, trying not to wake the assistant gunner, PFC Vick.
“Sounds like those Filipino boys found the Japs,” Stollman whispered back. “Think we’ll get called out there to help?”
“I sure hope not. At least not till it’s light out.” The distant firefight took on another level of intensity. There were more flashes and thumping sounds of mortar fire. “This is sounding more than just a simple skirmish. They’re in full contact.”
“Our guys got mortars?”
Tarkington shook his head, “Not that I know of. I didn’t think those Nips did either.”
“Guess you were mistaken.” He paused, “Could be those damned knee mortars they’re so fond of.”
Tarkington nodded but thought they sounded more like regular tube mortars. He stayed on the edge of the hole silently watching the light show. After fifteen minutes the volume of fire decreased, but didn’t stop.
The mortars stopped but the chatter of Japanese machine guns continued. Tarkington sighed and shook his head. He got to his feet but stayed crouched. “They’re pinned down up there. I’ll bet my bottom dollar we’ll be moving out in support soon.”
Stollman nodded. “Think you’re probably right.” He patted his BAR. “Not looking forward to humping Bertha up that hill.”
Tarkington grinned, “This is what you signed up for, Stolly.”
He shook his head, “I signed up for adventure and pussy, not hauling unwieldy machine guns through the jungle.”
“Pussy? You thought you’d get laid if you joined the Army? I’m worried about you, need to get you in for a psych eval.”
“You ever seen me in my dress uniform? I’m dashingly irresistible.”
“Your mother tell you that? I’ve seen you in your dress uniform…”
“Shit, you’re just jealous, Tark. Sign of a weak mind.”
Tarkington knew he wasn’t going to get the last word in no matter what, so he moved off without replying. He heard another snide remark, but was too far away to understand.
12
At 0400 a runner from Lt. Smoker’s staff sought out Staff Sergeant Tarkington. He found him sitting beside PFC Henry and Raker. The two scouts had become good friends over the past few days. Tarkington wondered how - they were polar opposites: Henry, quiet and introspective and Raker, loud and boisterous. Raker talked incessantly and Henry nodded and occasionally interjected. The young runner, PFC Roddy’s voice broke as if he were still going through puberty. “Lieutenant Smoker wants to see you, Sergeant.”
PFC Raker shook his head, “Jesus, Roddy. Have your balls dropped yet?”
Roddy glared at him and was about to squeak a reply but Tarkington spoke first, “Thanks, Roddy.” He slapped him on the shoulder and pushed him away. Roddy trotted away in search of 2nd and 3rd squad’s NCOs. “Give the kid a break.”
Raker asked, “How the hell’d that kid become a runner? He’s so young.”
Henry answered in his slow drawl. “He’s smart and fast. Two things you’re not.”
Before Raker could respond, Tarkington stood and said, “Knock it off. Bet this is about relieving the Filipinos, so get your shit together.”
He slung his Thompson and trotted towards the command tent. This time of the night was his favorite. Just before dawn the temperature was at its coolest, making it almost tolerable, even pleasant. There were still occasional flashes coming from the hillside. They’ve had a long night, he thought.
He pulled back the flap of the tent and entered the red glow. He saw Platoon Sergeant McLunty, Lieutenant Govang, Lieutenant Smoker and Captain Glister huddled over the map listening as a sweaty and dirty Filipino soldier spoke and gestured. Tarkington immediately straightened up with all the officers nearby. He saluted, “Staff Sergeant Tarkington, reporting as ordered.”
Captain Glister gave him a half-assed salute, “Come over here Sergeant.”
As he found a place around the map, he was alarmed to see the Filipino wasn’t only sweating and dirty but wounded as well. His left arm was covered in dried blood and a blood-soaked bandage was wrapped around his bicep. More NCOs filtered in and soon everyone that needed to be there was.
Captain Glister addressed them. He pointed to a circled area on the map. “Charlie Company of the First Regular Division is pinned down by machine gun fire and mortars here. They’ve been in contact most of the night and are having trouble disengaging. The commander, Major Durante, is worried they’ll be flanked and wants us to keep that from happening so he can concentrate on attacking what’s in front of him.” He paused. “I’m sending second platoon to the right flank, here.” He pointed to a spot well down from the original circle and to the right. “And first platoon to the left flank, here.”
He looked at Lt. Govang commanding 2nd platoon. “The more obvious flanking risk is from the right. The terrain to the left isn’t impossible, but it would be more difficult. If the Japs come I’m thinking it’ll be the right flank.” Govang looked stern as he studied the map and nodded his understanding. Glister pointed at Lt. Smoker. “I want you ready to send a squad to the right flank if it’s more than second platoon can handle. Clear?”
Smoker nodded, “Clear, sir. When do we leave?”
“Now. We’ll use what’s left of the darkness to get you out of here without drawing any artillery fire. The radios are spotty here, so if you need assistance, use your runners.” He looked at the bleeding Filipino. “Get that arm looked at before you go back.” The Filipino shook his head, but Glister insisted, “That’s an order, son. You’ll lead the GIs forward and I don’t want you passing out from blood loss.” He pushed him toward the waiting 3rd platoon medic, PFC Yap.
Tarkington noticed Yap for the first time. He was short and stocky and his Chinese heritage was obvious. He’d had a rough time since the Japanese invaded. Despite being born and raised in New York City, his looks made everyone suspicious, even long-time friends. When the Filipino saw him he stopped and glared at him, but Yap was used to it. He pulled him to a cot, sat him down and unwrapped his dirty, bloody rag. In his heavy New York accent he said, “Just relax and let old Yap take care of ya.” He smiled at the Filipino who looked unconvinced.
Two hours later they were across the Tuol River and moving uphill towards the sounds of fighting. Enzo, the wounded Filipino soldier, was in the lead with scouts from various squads following close behind, including Henry. The morning sun was up and the day promised to be another hot one. In the confines of the jungle, instead of the shade bringing coolness, it simply turned it into a steam bath. The GIs were used to it by now, but it didn’t make it any less miserable.
Enzo stopped and held up a fist. The signal was passed back. The scouts went forward, conferred with Enzo, then scooted back to Lt. Smoker and Govang respectively. Henry came back to 2nd squad and knelt next to Tarkington. “This is where we split up.”
Sure enough, Lt. Smoker raised his hand and moved 1st platoon to the left and Lt. Govang did the same for 2nd platoon, but to the right.
The higher they went up the hill, the less dense the jungle got. Tarkington was glad for it. Getting through the thickets around the river took far too long and expended far too much energy. The Japanese could’ve been feet away from him and he’d only see them if he happened to run into them. Up here, he could see about fifteen yards in every direction, which was far better than fifteen inches.
Lieutenant Smoker had split the platoon i
nto two squads and Henry led 2nd squad with Raker close behind. 1st squad was lower on the hill and keeping pace with them. Tarkington had his senses working overtime, listening for anything unusual. The fighting had subsided but not ceased and he assumed Major Durante had pulled back, waiting for the GIs to reinforce his flanks before launching another attack.
He glanced behind him and saw the three Filipinos not far back. They had their eyes open and their rifles ready. They hardly made a sound and he wondered if he should send them forward with Henry but thought better of it, knowing Platoon Sergeant McLunty was lurking somewhere.
Finally they stopped. Henry spoke with Raker, then split off and reported to Lt. Smoker who was a few yards down the hill, with his rifle ready. Raker reported to Tarkington, “This ridge is a good place to set up.”
Tarkington nodded, “Show me.” Raker nodded and moved off toward Henry, who looked like he’d become a part of the landscape. If Tarkington hadn’t known he was there, he’d never have seen him.
He stepped beside him and crouched behind a tree, looking at the terrain. He liked what he saw. They were indeed on a little ridge. If the Japanese came this way, it would be the most direct and obvious route to the Filipino left flank. The GIs were on the high ground with good cover and a ridge they could pull behind if it came to that. It was a good position.
Lieutenant Smoker started directing the men. He put one BAR team up high and the other in the middle. Each had good fields of fire. Tarkington wished, not for the first time, that they had a heavy weapons platoon assigned to them. A couple of heavy machine guns would go a long way out here. The BAR could lay down heavy fire, but was limited by its magazine size of only twenty .30-06 Springfield rounds. As Stollman liked to say, ‘Bitch is nasty, but quick.’
The rest of the platoon dug foxholes at ten to fifteen-yard intervals. When it was all said and done, the line stretched for nearly one hundred and fifty yards. Tarkington and his 2nd squad were near the end on the lower side. Lt. Smoker and Platoon Sergeant McLunty were dug in twenty yards back from the main line, in the gap between 1st and 2nd squads. They had a handheld radio, as did the squad leaders. When everyone was settled, McLunty called and Tarkington reported his men were dug in and ready. Now all they had to do was sit and wait.