Sweetness in the Dark

by W. B. Martin

  “We’re advancing on both flanks as planned. It should generate a response very soon,” the major said. He handed the radio back to his corporal.

  The response arrived in the shape of mortars again landing on their position. The rate of explosions was back to its original intensity as the ‘Indos’ focused more fire on this critical spot. Noel felt the intensity showed that the enemy had finally figured out this spot’s importance.

  The ‘Indos’ were now intent on claiming land that two hours earlier they hadn’t even known they wanted. The Kiwis and Yanks were now the focus of the fight.

  Noel and his great-grandfather shrank into the earth as shells landed around them. At a slight lull in the mayhem, they looked out at the forward positions. Smoke was everywhere. New holes had appeared from the mortar rounds impacting and tearing the ground.

  They both reacted as one, jumping out of the headquarters hole and running to a new mortar hole. Sliding in, they quickly snapped into place at the forward slope of the pit. Across the slope enemy troops were advancing. American mortars again were seeking out the opposing mortars. Shells were bursting across the depression that separated the two forces.

  The ‘Indos’ continued forward. As they drew closer the Allies opened up. The enemy staggered but kept coming. The Maxim gun opened up and the enemy paused again. But they rose up and charged forward.

  Mortar shells intensified as Noel ducked into the pit for safety. Firing around him slowed as men retreated into their holes for survival.

  Then Noel noticed his grandfather sprinting out of the hole. Noel looked up and saw him heading to where the Maxim had just been firing. But now nothing but smoke and debris littered the area. A shell had landed nearby and killed the gun crew.

  Noel’s great-grandfather struggled to right the overturned gun. With its water jacket and tripod, its weight resisted GG’s pull. Noel ran over to help, falling into the pit as he tripped on one of the dead bodies.

  Shoving the other dead gunner out of the way. Noel pulled with all his strength to get the machine gun back into position. His great-grandfather jumped behind the gun and motioned for Noel to feed the belt.

  Pulling the trigger, the Maxim barked to life just as the leading ‘Indos’ ran up to the front of their position. Hard-charging men fell as GG pivoted the gun back and forth on the tripod. Each pass would cut down a swath of attackers, but more were right behind them.

  Noel watched the belt run up out of the box and through the gun. As the end fed through, the gun stopped. Noel looked around frantically for more ammunition and found a new box. He pulled it forward.

  “Never mind, I’ll get that. Use this,” his great-grandfather shoved the AK-47 into his hands.

  Noel looked up to see dark-skinned men very close. He popped up out of the hole and pulled the trigger. The assault weapon ripped into the enemy at close range. Enemy troops fell as the AK-47 found its mark, but spraying bullets in the open had risks to it. Noel felt a burning stab of pain hit him on the side of his head.

  Then another one hit him in his injured arm. He used all his energy to keep from collapsing. He threw a new clip into the Ak-47 and finished off the closest attackers. Just when he felt like he would pass out from pain, the Maxim opened up again. He dropped down behind the logs and saw his grinning grandfather clearing the field in front of them.

  Noel reached up and felt his throbbing head. The wound stung when he touched it, but the wound was a glancing one. The hole in his arm was bleeding, so he retrieved a dressing from the dead man’s kit and tied up his wound. His great-grandfather stopped firing long enough to turn and look at his Noel’s head wound.

  A lucky round found its way between the logs protecting the gun position, hitting his great-grandfather in the leg. He fell over clutching right above his knee, swearing a streak. Noel grabbed another dressing and quickly applied it to GG’s leg. He found some pain killer in a self-administrating syringe and started to stab his great-grandfather.

  “No,” he yelled. “I’ll need my wits about me,” and shoved Noel’s hand away. Noel looked out the firing slit and could see more attackers coming in from the right. Right on cue the mortars opened up in earnest again. Explosions crashed into Noel’s position and he could hear the screams of the wounded over the din.

  Again the Maxim came to life as GG opened up. But as intense as the old machine gun was, the troops kept advancing. Noel noticed that there was a certain sound missing that had been there before. He looked to his right and saw the answer.

  The hole that had held the MG 42 and its crew was in shambles. A mortar had landed close by and now smoke billowed from the spot that just seconds ago held men fighting. Without the sustained rate of fire from the German gun, the unit could not hold off the attackers.

  Motioning to his great-grandfather that he needed to get the other gun operating, Noel sprinted over the open ground between the two gun pits. The Maxim provided some cover against the enemy as he ran.

  A bullet tore through his ankle as he reached the pit and Noel fell forward into the dugout. He grabbed his ankle and screamed with pain, but the enemy was still advancing. Noel pulled the MG 42 free and checked the belt.

  He adjusted the bi-pod on the ground and aligned the sights. He would have to shoot one handed and feed the belt with the other. His arm, ankle and head were throbbing as he took sight on the ‘Indos’.

  Noel pulled the trigger and the ‘beast’ responded. A buzz went up through the clamor of battle and Noel saw the dirt flying up as bullets tore holes in front of the charging troops. He walked the spray right into the men and watched them drop.

  He stopped, readjusted the aim to another group now charging from straight ahead. Again he walked the bullet spray into the men and they stopped in their tracks. Noel marveled at the ‘buzz saw’ action as the gun capable of over 1200 rounds per minute cleared an area of live men. It was like pointing a garden hose of death and just washing it over the area.

  As he reached the end of his belt and let up on the trigger, the gun kept firing. Syd had warned him that when the barrel was too hot, the rounds would ‘cook’ off. It was time to change barrels. Noel looked around the confusion for the glove and extra barrel.

  The explosion had strewn things everywhere and Noel could only find the barrel. As hard as he looked, he couldn’t find the glove. He reached instead for Syd’s heavy wool coat and yanked it off. Using it for protection, he struggled to remove the barrel.

  Syd had been rather cursory on his barrel change drill, and it took some time for Noel to finally get it right. He flew getting a new box of ammunition loaded and the plate slammed shut. Racking a round, he focused now on what was in front of him.

  Panic stuck him as he looked out the slit and saw what looked to be a full company leaping over the dead bodies of their countrymen. Where are the others? Noel thought. It was decidedly quiet on Noel’s side of the battle.

  He looked over at his great-grandfather’s position and saw only smoke. Another mortar round had done its worse and the Maxim was now silent. Noel looked hard for signs of his great-grandfather, but saw nothing moving.

  He couldn’t worry about him now or he would soon be dead. The ‘Indos’ were realizing that the position they were attacking was not firing back. Only sporadic small arms fire broke the silence.

  They knew their attack was about to take the field. Their fallen comrades had helped win the day. They doubled their speed running up the hill.

  The ‘Indos’ were met with a wall of death as Noel opened up with the ‘beast’. Noel was now getting proficient at walking the spray of instant eternity into the running men. The thirty caliber rounds tore the bodies apart as screaming men gasped, falling in their stride.

  Noel worked over the entire company until none moved. He stopped and looked down. This was his last box of belted ammunition and he had used most of it in the last charge. He looked around for his AK-47 and found it by one of the dead bodies. Noel gathered his remaining ammo for the rifle and
placed it in the edge of the log. He waited.

  Again, the ‘Indos’ didn’t let him wait long. Mortars landed nearby, but were decidedly less effective than before. The counter fire weakened the ‘Indos’ fire appreciably. Noel waited.

  The mortars crashed behind him. He turned to see the headquarters finally succumb to a hit. Smoke and fire belched out of the small patch of trees that had hidden the commander. Noel continued to wait.

  From his right came a blood curdling yell as another full company of attackers rushed out of the trees. Noel looked at the enemy and knew that the ammunition wasn’t going to be enough. He would hold fire until they were very close. He waited.

  The ‘Indos’ were determined to attain their objective and this company rushed forward like madmen to complete the fight. They soon realized that no one fired at them. They charged on faster

  As they reached the area of the dead bodies from the previous attack, they hesitated slightly. This had been where the ‘beast’ had opened up and cut them to pieces. Nothing happened, and they renewed their determined charge. Noel waited.

  As they drew close to the ridge top, a couple of rifles opened up to Noel’s right. The few survivors left, Noel thought. The ‘Indos’ brushed the small threat aside and focused on the ridge top. They would reach it in only a few more seconds. Only a short open space was between them and victory.

  Noel stopped waiting. He took careful aim at the enemy and realized that they would soon be on him. He squeezed the trigger. The MG 42 ripped the air as bullets spewed out into the ‘Indos’. He swung the spray across the field as men dropped in agony. Halfway across the attackers, the big gun went silent.

  Noel frantically looked down and the belt was gone. He grabbed his AK-47 and stood up. He snapped the trigger and fired at the men. But the rifle didn’t have the same effect as the ‘beast’. The attackers knew now that the fight was over. They had won. Just this one Kiwi to dispose of and they would hold the key position.

  Noel saw all this in the grins of the ‘Indos’ as they ran toward him. His clip emptied, and he reached for a new one. He didn’t get the chance as a bullet slammed into his chest, throwing him back into the hole. The agony was intolerable. He groaned as blood squirted out of the hole in his chest.

  He turned to try and see his great-grandfather. He didn’t want to die alone. Tears filled his eyes, knowing this was the last thing he would see. Then through the blur of his crying he saw an ‘Indo’ walk up to the edge of his pit. The soldier grinned at the luck of finding the Kiwi still alive.

  He raised his rifle to finish Noel off. Noel looked up at the man as he took careful aim. Noel could look right down the man’s gun sights and into his eyes. Eyes that were gleaming in anticipation of killing off their final antagonist.

  As Noel watched, the soldier begin to squeeze the trigger as the man’s grin widened, exposing his white teeth. Then the grin disappeared, along with the man’s head. The ‘Indo’ soldier just crumpled into the pit, falling next to Noel, splattering him in blood.

  Noel now noticed intense fire. But from where? he thought. He couldn’t move to look out of the pit. He stuck his finger in his chest to try and slow the bleeding. He felt for the place that seemed to be bleeding the most and squeezed it the best he could

  * * *

  Noel opened his eyes slightly. He wasn’t in the pit anymore. He opened them a little more and could see that he was in a hospital room. He rolled his head to the side and it was still daylight. How did I get here? he wondered.

  “He’s awake, Doctor,” Noel heard a female voice say.

  “Good,” another female voice answered.

  A woman in a white coat came into view and bent over. She reached for Noel’s wrist and felt his pulse. She took a stethoscope off her shoulders and listened to his chest. Then with a flashlight, she checked his eyes.

  “They’re responsive. His pulse is shallow, but steady,” the woman said. “You may live after all. We were quite worried there for a while.”

  Noel tried to talk but all that came out was a grunt. The woman reached over for a glass of water and a straw and offered it to Noel. He sipped on the straw. The water felt like magic on his dry throat. He sipped more. She pulled it away.

  “Not too much. You’ve been out for a week now. We need to take things slowly.”

  A week, Noel thought. Great-grandfather was his next thought. He struggled to get the word out. What had happened to his great-grandfather? The panic on his face registered on the woman. She pulled a syringe from her coat pocket and stuck it into his IV drip tubing. Noel was out in seconds.

  The next time Noel awoke, it was dark out. New Zealand was still without a reliable power grid, so looking out the window, Noel saw only sporadic lights. He lay awake for a time. Soon a woman with a flashlight came into the room to check on the two patients. It was the first Noel had noticed that he was sharing his room with another.

  The woman with the flashlight turned to Noel. Seeing that he was awake, she offered him some water. Noel took more this time and it felt wonderful. The woman let him drink as much as he wanted this time.

  She pulled up a chair to sit beside him. He tried to ask a question, but his voice was still absent. He made a motion for a paper and pen, and she went to find something for him to write on.

  Where is my grandfather? was his first written question.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” the woman lied.

  Where am I? was the second question.

  “Hamilton Hospital. You were brought in over a week ago. Your wounds were very serious. The hospital has a limited generator but we save the electricity for the important things. A U.S. Army doctor operated on you. Saved your life. She had lots of experience on gunshot wounds from Afghanistan. If a Kiwi doctor had tried, you’d be dead now,” the woman answered.

  Who are you? Noel wrote.

  “I’m Lt. Eleanor Goss, U. S. Army Nurse Corps,” she answered. “Recently of Sar Bandadar Air Base in Afghanistan, but you can call me Ellie.”

  Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Noel wrote.

  The next week was one of doctors and nurses arriving and departing after poking his body and writing in his chart. Noel was eating food now, if slurping chicken broth was considered eating. At least he was back to having his tea. The tea, more than anything, boosted his mood. But everyone that came through claimed ignorance to the whereabouts of his great-grandfather.

  Two weeks after the battle, Noel was sitting up in bed. His neighbor was still comatose, so there wasn’t much to do. He was tired of playing solitaire with the cards someone had left by his bed.

  “Well, Noel. It’s damn good to see you.”

  Noel looked up and saw Major Smith being rolled into his room in a wheelchair. His left leg was in a cast. Facial wounds had been bandaged and Noel could see a bandage on his left arm under his hospital gown.

  “Major Smith, you made it through alive. Do you know what happened to GG? No one here seems to know anything.”

  There was a long pause as the attendant pushing the wheelchair stared down at the floor. The major looked right at Noel as tears welled up in his eyes. He fought back to keep his composure.

  “Noel, GG didn’t make it. He was hit by a mortar during the last charge,” Smith said.

  The room was very quiet. Noel looked out the window at the white clouds floating in from the Tasman Sea. Tears ran down his face.

  “He went out doing something very special, Noel. You need to know that his action saved our position long enough for the Marines to break the enemies back. If the ‘Indos’ had taken our ridge, they would have split our forces in two and collapsed our attack. They could have been here in Hamilton right now instead of us,” the major offered.

  Noel continued to stare out the window. He missed his great-grandfather like never before. How can I go on without him? he wondered.

  “Noel, if it’s any consolation, I’ve put in the papers for GG to receive the Medal of Honor. From the story, the old man s
hould have received it on the ‘Canal’, but we’ll do our best to make up for that oversight,” Smith offered.

  “Thank you, Major. I know he’d appreciate that,” Noel finally said.

  “And when the Marines that came to our rescue found out that the position had been held by a ‘Canal’ veteran, they stopped everything to carry him down the hill in honors. They stood guard over his body the whole time until we buried him in the military cemetery set up outside Bombay,” Major Smith said.

  “I’d like to go see him.”

  “Of course. As soon as you’re up for it, we’ll take you there. And there are some visitors that have been asking for you, when you’re ready.”

  “Anyone else survive, Major?” Noel asked.

  “I’m afraid we got hit bad. GG will be sharing space with some good soldiers,” Major Smith said. “But your mate Syd survived. In fact he’s in the bed next to you. You couldn’t tell from the bandages. He took a bad hit in the head.”

  Noel looked at the man that had been his roommate for two weeks. No, with all the bandages, he would never be able to tell who it was. But Syd had made it. And the ‘beast’. What had happened to the big German gun that had saved the day? he wondered.

  * * *

  It would be another two weeks before Noel was able to start getting out of bed. He was excited to see something besides his room and his comatose roommate. He constantly harangued the attendant to wheel him around the floor.

  But everywhere he went the wounded soldiers would look sadly at the young Kiwi who had lost his great-grandfather on Bombay Hill. The tale of the fight was well known to everyone by now.

  The ‘Indos’ had been pushed off the hills and had retreated into the suburbs of Auckland. Not wanting an urban fight, the Kiwi and American commanders were content to hold the high ground. They now securely held the farmland around Hamilton and with a strong defensive position in the hills, the ‘Indos’ were cordoned off. Time was needed to gain strength to throw the invaders out of New Zealand for good.