Satan's Cage

by Len Levinson

  The Japanese soldiers realized they’d been tricked. They got to their feet and worked the bolts of their Arisaka rifles, aiming at Frankie La Barbara, ready to shoot him down, when Lieutenant Breckenridge came up behind them with his Thompson submachine gun and pulled the trigger. The submachine gun trembled in his hands, and he blew the Japanese soldiers away. They spun and danced as the bullets tore them apart. They were dead before they hit the ground.

  Lieutenant Breckenridge turned around and saw his men fighting Japs all throughout the area. A bunch of Japs ran toward him and he held the butt of the submachine gun tight to his waist, pulling the trigger. The submachine gun roared and its bullets tore holes in the Japanese soldiers. They fell over their feet and crashed to the ground.

  Blam! A bullet was fired through the smoke and dust in front of him, and hit him in the shoulder, spinning him around. He fell to his knees and saw more Japanese soldiers running toward him. Raising the submachine gun, blood pouring from his shoulder, he pulled the trigger.

  Click!

  The submachine gun was empty. Lieutenant Breckenridge thought he was a goner. The Japanese soldiers rushed toward him and Lieutenant Breckenridge struggled to get to his feet. He was dazed by the wound and his hands trembled as he reached into the bandolier for another clip of ammunition.

  Two gigantic shadows suddenly dropped between him and the Japanese soldiers. They were Private Victor Yabalonka with his pickax, and the Reverend Billie Jones with his shovel. The Japanese soldiers faltered in their charge because they were surprised by the sudden appearance of these two huge American soldiers. Yabalonka leapt forward and swung the pickax, burying the point into the head of one Japanese soldier. The point smashed into the Japanese soldier’s brains and he was killed instantly. Yabalonka yanked the handle of the pickax but it wouldn’t come loose. Every time he tugged he made the head of the dead Japanese soldier wiggle crazily.

  The other Japanese soldiers closed in around Yabalonka. Next to him, the Reverend Billie Jones swung his shovel like a baseball bat. The blade struck a Japanese soldier on the side of his neck and cut into the bone that connected his head to his body. Blood poured out of the Japanese soldier’s eyeballs and his knees went slack. Jones swung the shovel again and smacked the next Japanese soldier on the cheekbones. That Japanese soldier was thrown to the ground, and Yabalonka kicked another Japanese soldier in the balls. The Japanese soldier's eyes closed tightly and he passed out from the sudden intense pain. Yabalonka grabbed the Arisaka rifle out of the Japanese soldier’s hands and pushed the butt into the snoot of the next Japanese soldier. The Japanese soldier behind that one thrust his rifle and bayonet forward, and the blade sliced along Yabalonka’s forearm. Yabalonka bellowed in pain as he collided with the Japanese soldier.

  They butted heads and a gash opened on the forehead of the Japanese soldier. The Japanese soldier staggered backward and Yabalonka lunged forward with his rifle and bayonet, burying the blade into the Japanese soldier’s chest. The Japanese soldier vomited blood as he fell backward, but the bayonet was stuck in his ribs. Yabalonka gritted his teeth and pulled the rifle and bayonet backward, but it wouldn’t disengage. He let the rifle and bayonet go and grabbed the rifle and bayonet that had dropped out of the hands of the Japanese soldier he just killed, when something told him to look up.

  It was a Japanese sergeant aiming a Nambu pistol at him. Yabalonka’s hair stood on end but before he could do anything the Japanese sergeant fired.

  Blam!

  Yabalonka felt as if somebody had hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer. Everything went black before his eyes and he fell to the ground.

  The Reverend Billie Jones was nearby and he saw Yabalonka fall. “Yabalonka’s down!” he hollared.

  Sergeant Bannon happened to be nearby. He spun around and saw the Japanese sergeant aiming his pistol at the Reverend Billie Jones, who stood over the fallen body of Yabalonka.

  Bannon threw his bloody ax at the Japanese sergeant, and its handle smacked the Japanese sergeant on the shoulder, upsetting his aim. The Japanese sergeant turned around to see where the ax had come from, and was alarmed to find 192 pounds of Texas cowboy flying at him through the air.

  Bannon collided with the Japanese sergeant and both of them fell to the ground. They rolled over and around as they tried to punch each other in the mouth and kick each other in the balls. The Japanese sergeant plunged his thumb toward Bannon’s left eye, and Bannon stretched his neck and clamped his teeth down on the Japanese sergeant’s thumb.

  The Japanese sergeant screamed and tried to pull his thumb out of Bannon’s mouth, but Bannon only bit down harder. His teeth crunched through the bone and cartilige at the thumb’s joint, and he actually bit the Japanese sergeant’s thumb off! The Japanese sergeant hollared in pain and Bannon let him go, rolling over, spitting out the thumb joint, picking up the Japanese sergeant’s Nambu pistol and jumping to his feet.

  The Japanese sergeant tried to get up, blood spurting from the stump where his thumb had been. Bannon aimed the Nambu pistol at him and pulled the trigger.

  Blam!

  The Japanese sergeant was knocked flat on his back by the impact of the bullet, but he didn’t have to worry about his thumb anymore. Bannon spun around and pulled the trigger of the pistol again. Blam! His bullet hit a Japanese soldier in the left eye and drilled through his brain. Bannon pivoted and fired again. Blam! The bullet passed through the throat of another Japanese soldier. Bannon fired again and shot a hole in the chest of a third Japanese soldier.

  The sun was below the trees, sinking into the horizon. The battlefield became dark. Bannon looked around and saw groups of men fighting all around him. More Japanese soldiers debouched from the jungle straight ahead.

  Bannon didn’t think the recon platoon could hold off all those Japs. He hadn’t heard from Lieutenant Breckenridge for a while and thought maybe he was dead. Somebody had to take charge of the recon platoon, and he was next in line on the chain of command.

  “Retreat!” he shouted. “Get the hell out of here!”

  He turned around to run and saw three Japanese soldiers charging toward him. Raising the Nambu pistol, he pulled the trigger. Blam! One of the Japanese soldiers tripped over his feet and fell to the ground. Bannon pulled the trigger again. Blam! That bullet hit the second Japanese soldier in the lower abdomen, and he went down clutching his guts. The third Japanese soldier stared down the barrel of the Nambu pistol, and he couldn’t handle it. He turned around and ran. Bannon pulled the trigger. Click! The Nambu was empty. The Japanese soldier turtled his head into his collar and kept running, expecting the bullet to strike him at any moment, but the bullet never came. He slowed down and wondered what had happened, when a big hulk loomed up out of the darkness in front of him.

  It was Private Worthington carrying an ax, and he swung with all his strength. The blade slammed down on the Japanese soldier’s shoulder, busting bones and tearing flesh. The Japanese soldier fell to the ground as Frankie La Barbara ran past Worthington, carrying Lieutenant Breckenridge over his shoulder.

  Bannon’s voice came to them across the battlefield. “Pull back! Let’s go!”

  The GIs disengaged from the Japs and fled into the darkness, jumping over logs and dashing behind bushes. The Japanese soldiers followed them cautiously, worried about being drawn into a trap. Behind them were bodies of American and Japanese soldiers all over the ground. The last sliver of sun sank beneath the horizon and night came to the hot beleaguered island of New Guinea.

  Colonel Hutchins stood in his office, a canteen full of white lightning in one hand and his telephone in the other. “What!” he screamed.

  On the other end was Captain Phillip Mason, the new commanding officer of Headquarters Company. “We’ve been overrun by Japs!” Captain Mason said. “We need help!”

  “It’s on the way!” Colonel Hutchins replied.

  Colonel Hutchins hung up the telephone. Help really wasn’t on the way to Headquarters Company, but it would be as so
on as Colonel Hutchins cleared his head and figured out what to do. The phone call had taken Colonel Hutchins by surprise. He’d been sitting at his desk having a little drink when the phone rang a minute ago.

  Colonel Hutchins ran to his map table and looked down. He planted his sausagelike finger on the Headquarters Company position and then looked around the map to see who could fill the hole. The phone rang again. He dashed to the desk and picked it up.

  “This is Captain Swette from Easy Company! We’re being attacked by a whole shitload of Japs and we need help right away!”

  “It’ll be there before you know it!” Colonel Hutchins replied. “Hang on!”

  “I’m not sure that we can!”

  “Hang on anyways!”

  Colonel Hutchins hung up the phone and ran back to the map. That was the fourth call he’d received, all from units in the First Battalion area, which was the battalion that was turned south to meet flank attacks. The picture became clear to Colonel Hutchins’s alcohol-sodden mind. The Japs were attacking the regiment in flank. “Who’ve I got in reserve?” Colonel Hutchins muttered. “I believe I’ve got the Second Battalion in reserve.” He jumped on his telephone and picked it up.

  “Get me Colonel Lechler at the Second Battalion,” he said to the switchboard operator, “and make it fast!”

  “Yes sir.”

  Colonel Hutchins took a swig of whiskey while waiting for the call to go through. Major Cobb, the operations officer for the regiment, charged through the tent flap and entered the office.

  “We’re under attack!” he yelled.

  Colonel Hutchins held up the bottle of whiskey. “I’m taking care of it.”

  The voice of the switchboard operator vibrated in Colonel Hutchins’s ear. “I can’t get through to the Second Battalion, sir!”

  “Why the hell not!”

  “Don’t know, sir!”

  “Well find out and let me know when you can get through!”

  “Yes sir!”

  Colonel Hutchins slammed down the telephone. The moment the receiver hit the cradle it rang again. Colonel Hutchins ignored it.

  “Get on the radio!” he said to Major Cobb. “Call Colonel Lechler and tell him to swing around behind the First Battalion!”

  “Yes sir!”

  Major Cobb ran out of the office. The phone continued to ring, and Colonel Hutchins picked it up.

  “What is it now!” he demanded.

  “This is Captain Swenson! We’re being attacked by Japs. Request permission to retreat!”

  “Go ahead, but watch out for the Second Battalion! It’s moving up to support you!”

  “Yes sir!”

  Colonel Hutchins hung up the phone and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. I thought this was supposed to be a fucking rest zone, he said to himself. If this is a rest zone, I’d hate to be in a non-rest zone right now.

  The phone next to him rang again, and he picked it up. “Now what!” he hollared.

  There was a pause, and then he heard a deep calm voice, like the voice of an undertaker. “This is General Hawkins,” the voice in his ear said. “What’s going on down there?”

  “Japs’ve hit us from the south,” Colonel Hutchins said. “I don’t know how many Japs or even if we can contain them, but we’re trying.”

  “Do you think I should take any measures on my end?”

  “I think you should wake everybody up just in case.”

  “Do you need anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Call if you need anything. I’ll be here in my office.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Over and out.”

  Colonel Hutchins hung up the phone. He still was surprised by the suddenness of the Japanese attack. They hadn’t even tried to soften up the American positions with artillery. Colonel Hutchins had heard eruptions of gunfire to the south, and then the phone started ringing.

  The tent flap was pushed to the side and Major Cobb entered the office. “I got through to Colonel Lechler,” he said. “He said he’d move south right away.”

  “Thank God.” Colonel Hutchins looked at his canteen. “I’d offer you a drink but I know you don’t drink.”

  Major Cobb said nothing. Colonel Hutchins raised the canteen to his lips and took a few swallows. He burped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Well,” Colonel Hutchins said, “there’s nothing we can do now except pray.”

  “Would you like me to get the rest of your staff in here, sir?”

  “You might as well.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Major Cobb turned around and left the office. Colonel Hutchins flopped on the chair behind his desk and stared into the thin air. Fucking Japs, he thought. Never give a man a moment’s rest.

  General Hall was dining at his officers mess with some Air Corps and Naval officers who’d happened to be in the area. One of the Air Corps officers recently arrived from the States and was filling the others in on the latest news. The officers mess was a substantial distance from the Afua sector and the sounds of fighting couldn’t be heard. The officers joked and chortled as they drank cold beer and ate roast chicken.

  Lieutenant Jack Utsler, one of General Hall’s aides, entered the mess area and walked to the table where General Hall sat. General Hall looked up as Lieutenant Utsler approached, and wondered what Lieutenant Utsler wanted. He hoped it wasn’t anything serious because the roast chicken was awfully good, and he even had mashed potatoes to go with it.

  Lieutenant Jack Utsler bent over and brought his lips close to General Hall’s right. “Our southern flank is under attack, sir,” he said. “The Eighty-first Division is retreating.”

  The fork fell out of General Hall’s hand. “Excuse me gentlemen,” he said. “I’m afraid I have some rather urgent business to attend to.”

  General Hall wiped his lips with a napkin and stood, turning around and following Lieutenant Utsler out of the officers mess.

  Stars sparkled in the sky and a three-quarter moon floated on the breeze. General Hall walked swiftly across the clearing, heading toward his office, with Lieutenant Utsler at his side. He climbed the stairs to the wooden shack and passed through the outer office, where the officer of the day sat behind the sergeant major’s desk. General Hall proceeded to the next office and found Colonel MacKenzie standing next to his map table, along with a few other staff officers.

  “Atten-hut!” Colonel MacKenzie shouted.

  “At ease,” General Hall said, approaching the map table. “What do we know so far?”

  “Basically,” Colonel MacKenzie explained, “the Eighty-first Division was attacked by Japanese soldiers at approximately eighteen hundred hours. The division was taken by surprise and forced to retreat. They’re still retreating as far as we know.”

  “Get General Hawkins for me on the telephone.”

  “Yes sir.”

  General Hall looked down at the map. It showed wooden arrows pointed at the southern flank, indicating the paths of the attack. “How far has the Eighty-first retreated?” General Hall asked.

  “We don’t know, sir,” somebody said.

  General Hall scratched his chin. He wasn’t particularly worried because he didn’t think the Japs could mount a major offensive anymore. Sooner or later the Japs would be stopped. There might be some confusion for a while, but nothing to become alarmed about.

  “I’ve got General Hawkins on the phone, sir,” Colonel MacKenzie said.

  General Hall walked to the switchboard and took the receiver out of Colonel MacKenzie’s hand. “General Hawkins?” he said.

  “Speaking,” said the voice on the other end of of the wire.

  “Have you stopped the attack yet?”

  “No sir. I don’t think so.”

  “What do you mean you don’t think so? Don’t you know?”

  “No sir, I don’t. I haven’t been able to figure out exactly what’s going on yet.”

  “How far have you retreated?”


  “I estimate that my right flank has fallen back approximately to the village of Afua.”

  “I think that’s about enough of a retreat, General. I think you’d better hold them right there in Afua.”

  “We’ll do our best sir.”

  “I didn’t order you to do your best. I ordered you to stop them.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Over and out.”

  General Hall handed the receiver to Lieutenant Utsler, then strolled back to the map table. He looked down at the wooden squares and disks representing troop units and decided the Eighty-first Division should be able to stop the Japanese attack. The Eighty-first would take casualties and the southern flank would be awfully messy for a while, but war was never easy.

  General Hall looked at Colonel MacKenzie. “Stay here and keep an eye on things. If there are any problems, I’ll be at the officers mess.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Carry on.”

  General Hall walked out of his office, returning to his roast chicken and mashed potatoes.

  The young Japanese officer half climbed and half ran up the side of the gently sloping mountain. His face had been cut by an American bayonet and his uniform shirt had been slashed diagonally by another American bayonet. Huffing and puffing, dizzy from exertion, he sped upward, a courier with a message to deliver to General Yokozowa.

  The moon hung in the sky near the top of the mountain, casting long eerie shadows everywhere. The young Japanese officer, a lieutenant named Sendai Oya, saw the mouth of the cave that was General Yokozowa’s headquarters. He pumped his legs and finally reached the level of the sentries guarding the cave.

  “Who is it!” said one of the sentries.

  “Lieutenant Sendai Oya with a message for the general!”

  “Pass through!”

  Lieutenant Oya entered the mouth of the cave and couldn’t see a damned thing. He blinked and his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness. A curtain had been hung from one wall of the cave to the other, and he could hear officers talking on the other side of the curtain.